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           Title: The Fire of Love
      Creator(s): Rolle, Richard (1290-1349)
                  Misyn, Richard (Translator)
          Rights: Public Domain
   CCEL Subjects: All; Mysticism; Proofed
      LC Call no: BX2349 .R67413
     LC Subjects:

                  Christian Denominations

                  Roman Catholic Church

                  Practical religion. Christian life
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                                THE FIRE OF LOVE

                           OR MELODY OF LOVE AND THE

                               MENDING OF LIFE OR

                               THE RULE OF LIVING

                               BY: RICHARD ROLLE

    Translated by Richard Misyn from the

    "Incendium Amoris" and the "De Emendatione

    Vitae" of Richard Rolle, hermit of Hampole

    METHUEN & CO. LTD.

    36 ESSEX STREET W.C.

    LONDON

    Second Edition

    First Published . . . . . April 2, 1914

    Second Edition . . . . . 1920

   Editorial notes: this edition is not identical to the print source.
   Most of the footnotes have not been reproduced, and in a few cases
   words have been modernized by substituting the footnote contents for
   the archaic word that was the target of the footnote. The table of
   Legenda has been simplified.
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INTRODUCTION

    THE MYSTICISM OF RICHARD ROLLE

    BY EVELYN UNDERHILL

   The four great English mystics of the fourteenth century--Richard
   Rolle, Walter Hilton, Julian of Norwich and the anonymous author of
   "The Cloud of Unknowing"--though in doctrine as in time they are
   closely related to one another, yet exhibit in their surviving works
   strongly marked and deeply interesting diversities of temperament. [1]
   Rolle, the romantic and impassioned hermit; his great successor, that
   nameless contemplative, acute psychologist, and humorous critic of
   manners, who wrote "The Cloud of Unknowing" and its companion works;
   Hilton, the gentle and spiritual Canon of Throgmorton; and Julian, the
   exquisitely human yet profoundly meditative anchoress, whose
   "Revelations of Divine Love" are perhaps the finest flower of English
   religious literature--these form a singularly picturesque group in the
   history of European mysticism.

   Richard Rolle of Hampole, the first of them in time, and often called
   with justice "The father of English Mysticism," is in some aspects the
   most interesting and individual of the four. Possessed of great
   literary power, and the author of numerous poems and prose treatises,
   his strong influence may be felt in all the mystical and ascetic
   writers who succeeded him; and some knowledge of his works is essential
   to a proper understanding of the currents of religious thought in this
   country during the two centuries which preceded the Reformation.
   Sometimes known as the "English Bonaventura," he might have been named
   with far greater exactitude the "English Francis": for his life and
   temperament--though we dare not claim for him the unmatched gaiety,
   sweetness, and spiritual beauty of his Italian predecessor--yet present
   many parallels with those of the "little poor man" of Assisi. Both
   Francesco Bernadone and Richard Rolle were born romantics. Each
   represents the revolt of the unsatisfied heart and intuitive mind of
   the natural mystic from the comfortable, the prudent, and the
   commonplace: its tendency to seek in the spiritual world the ultimate
   beauty and the ultimate love. Both saw in poverty, simplicity,
   self-stripping, the only real freedom; in "carnal use and wont" the
   only real servitude. Moreover, both were natural artists, who found in
   music and poetry the fittest means of expression for their impassioned
   and all-dominating love of God. Francis held that the servants of the
   Lord were nothing else than His minstrels. He taught his friars to
   imitate the humility and gladness of that holy little bird the lark;
   and when sweet melody of spirit boiled up within him, would sing
   troubadour-like in French to the Lord Jesus Christ. For Rolle, too, the
   glad and eager life of birds was a school of Christian virtue. At the
   beginning of his conversion, he took as his model the nightingale,
   which to song and melody all night is given, that she may please him to
   whom she is joined. For him the life of contemplation was essentially a
   musical state, and song, rightly understood, embraced every aspect of
   the soul's communion with Reality. Sudden outbursts of lyrical speech
   and direct appeals to musical imagery abound in his writings, as in
   those of no other mystic; and perhaps constitute their outstanding
   literary characteristic.

   Further, both these impassioned minnesingers of the Holy Ghost made the
   transition from the comfortable life of normal men to the ardours and
   deprivations of the mystic way at the same age, and with the same
   startling and dramatic thoroughness. They share the same horror of
   property and possessions, "the I, the me, the mine." In each, personal
   religion finds its focus in an intense and beautiful devotion to the
   Name of Jesus. Francis was "drunken with the love and compassion of
   Christ." "The mind of Jesu" was to Rolle "as melody of music at a
   feast." For each, love, joy, and humility govern the attitude of the
   self to God. Each, too, adopted substantially the same career: that of
   a roving lay-missionary, going, as Rolle tells us in "The Fire of
   Love," from place to place, dependent upon charity for food and
   lodging, and trying in the teeth of all obstacles to win other men to a
   clearer view of Divine Reality a life surrendered to the will of God.
   Each knew the support of a woman's friendship and sympathy. What St.
   Clare was to St. Francis, that Margaret Kirkby the recluse of Anderby
   was to Rolle. Seeking only spiritual things, both these mystics have
   yet left their mark upon the history of literature. Rolle was a
   prolific writer in Latin and Middle English, in prose and in verse, and
   his vernacular works occupy an important place in the evolution of
   English as a literary tongue: whilst the Canticles of St. Francis are
   amongst the earliest of Italian poems.

   True, Francis had the gayer, sunnier and more social nature. Once the
   first, essential act of renunciation was accomplished, he quickly
   gathered about him a group of disciples and lived in their company by
   choice. Rolle, temperamentally more intense and ascetic, loved
   solitude; and only in the lonely hermitage "from worldly business in
   mind and body departed," does he seem to have achieved that detachment
   and singleness of mind through which he entered into the fullness of
   his spiritual heritage. To him Divine Love was "as it were a shameful
   lover, that his leman before men embraces not": but "in the wilderness
   more clearly they meet," where "true lovers accord, and merry solace of
   lovely touching is, unable to be told." Yet the enormous influence
   which he exercised upon the religious life of the fourteenth century,
   the definitely missionary character of many of his writings, is a
   sufficient answer to those who would condemn him on these grounds as a
   "selfish recluse." Francis upon La Verna, Rolle in his hermit's cell,
   were caught up to the ultimate encounter of love: but each felt that
   such heavenly communion was no end in itself, that it entailed
   obligations towards the race. For both, contemplation and action, love
   and work, went ever hand in hand. "Love," says Rolle, "cannot be lazy":
   and his life is there to endorse the truth of those golden words. True
   contemplatives, he says again--and we cannot doubt that he here
   describes the ideal at which he aimed--are like the topaz "in which two
   colours are," one "pure as gold" and "t'other clear as heaven when it
   is bright." "To gold they are like a passing heat of charity, and to
   heaven for clearness of heavenly conversation": exhibiting, in fact,
   that balanced character of active love to man and fruitive love to
   God--the double movement of the perfect soul--which is the peculiar
   hallmark of true Christian mysticism.

   As with St. Francis, so with Rolle, the craving for reality, the
   passionate longing for fullness of life, did not at first turn to the
   religious channel. The life of chivalry, the troubadour-spirit, first
   attracted Francis; the life of intellect first attracted Rolle. Already
   noticed as a boy of unusual ability, he had been sent to Oxford by the
   help of the Archdeacon of Durham. But the achievement of manhood found
   him unsatisfied. He was already conscious of some instinct within him
   which demanded as its objective a deeper Reality: of a spiritual
   vocation which theological study alone could never fulfill. At the
   crucial age of eighteen, when the genius for God so often asserts
   itself, St. Francis definitely abjured all that he had seemed to love,
   and embraced Poverty with a dramatic thoroughness; abandoning home,
   family, prospects, and stripping off his very clothes in the public
   square of Assisi. At the same age Richard Rolle, sacrificing his
   scholastic career--and the high literary merit of his writings shows us
   what that career might have been--suddenly returned from Oxford to the
   North, his soul "lifted from low things," his mind set on fire with
   love for the austere and solitary life of contemplation. There, with
   that impulse towards concrete heroic sacrifice, decisive symbolic
   action, which so often appears in the childhood and youth of the
   mystical saints, he begged from his sister two gowns, one white, one
   grey, together with his father's old rain-hood; retired into the
   forest; and with these manufactured as best he might a hermit's dress
   in which to "flee from the world." His family thought him mad: the
   inevitable conclusion of the domestic mind in all ages, when confronted
   with the violent other-worldliness of the emerging mystical
   consciousness. But Rolle knew already that he obeyed a primal necessity
   of his nature: that singular living, solitude, some escape from the
   torrent of use and wont, was imperative for him if he were to fulfill
   his destiny and order his disordered loves. "No marvel if I fled that
   that me confused . . . well I knew of Whom I look." The way in which he
   realized this need may seem to us, like the self-stripping of St.
   Francis, crude and naive: yet as an index of character, an augury of
   future greatness, it must surely take precedence of that milder and
   more prudent change of heart which involves no bodily discomforts.
   There is in both these stories the same engaging mixture of
   singleminded response to an interior vocation, boyish romanticism, and
   personal courage. Francis and Richard ran away to God, as other lads
   have run away to sea: sure that their only happiness lay in total
   self-giving to the one great adventure of life.

   It was primarily the life of solitude which Rolle needed and sought,
   that his latent powers might have room to grow. "Great liking I had in
   wilderness to sit, that I far from noise sweetlier might sing, and with
   quickness of heart likingest praising I might feel; the which doubtless
   of His gift I have taken, Whom above all thing wonderfully I have
   loved." Yet the first result of his quest of loneliness was the
   discovery of a friend. Going one evening to a church--probably that of
   Topcliffe near Thirsk--and sitting down in the seat of Lady Dalton, he
   was recognized by her sons, who had been his fellow-students at Oxford:
   with the immediate result that their father, Sir John Dalton, impressed
   by his saintly enthusiasm, gave him a hermit's cell and dress, and
   provided for his daily needs, in order that he might devote himself
   without hindrance to the contemplative life.

   Rolle has described in "The Fire of Love"--which is, with the possible
   exception of the Melum, the most autobiographical of his
   writings--something at least of the interior stages through which he
   now passed, in the course of the purification and enlightenment of his
   soul. One of the most subjective of the mystics, he is intensely
   interested in his own spiritual adventures; and a strong personal
   element may be detected even in his most didactic works. As with all
   who deliberately give themselves to the spiritual life, his first
   period of growth was predominantly ascetic. With his fellow mystics he
   underwent the trials and disciplines of the "purgative way": and for
   this, complete separation from the world was essential. "The process
   truly if I will show, solitary life behooves me preach." The essence of
   this purification, as he describes it in the "Mending of Life," lies
   not so much in the endurance of bodily austerities--as in "Contrition
   of thought, and pulling out of desires that belong not to loving or
   worship of God":--self-simplification in fact. The object of such a
   process is always the same: the purging of the will, and unification of
   the whole life about the higher centres of humility and love; the
   cutting out, as St. Catherine of Siena has it, of "the rooting of
   self-love with the knife of self-hatred." In the old old language of
   Christian mysticism, Rolle speaks of the action of Divine Love as a
   refiner's fire, "fiery making our souls, and purging them from all
   degrees of sin, making them light and burning." We gather from various
   references in the Incendium that the trials of this purgation included
   in his own case not only interior contrition for past sin and bodily
   penance. It also involved the contempt, if not the actual persecution
   of other men, and the inimical attitude with "with wordys of
   bakbyttingis" of old friends, who viewed his eccentric conduct with a
   natural and prudent disgust: a form of suffering, intensely painful to
   his sensitive nature, which he recognizes as specially valuable in its
   power of killing self-esteem, and encouraging the mystical type of
   character, governed by true mortification and total dependence on God.
   "This have I known, that the more men have tried with words of
   backbiting against me, so muckle the more in ghostly profit I have
   grown.". . . ."After the tempest, God sheds in brightness of holy
   desires."

   The period of pain and struggle--the difficult remaking of
   character--lasted from his conversion for about two years and eight
   months. It was brought to an end, as with so many of the greater
   mystics, by an abrupt shifting of consciousness to levels of peace and
   joy: a sudden and overwhelming revelation of Spiritual Reality--"the
   opening of the heavenly door, that Thy face showed." Rolle than passed
   to that affirmative state of high illumination and adoring love which
   he extols in the "Fire": the state which includes the three degrees, or
   spiritual moods of Calor, Dulcor, Canor--"Heat, Sweetness and Song." At
   the end of a year, "the door biding open," he experienced the first of
   these special graces: the Heat of Love Everlasting, or "Fire" which
   gave its name to the Incendium Amoris. "I sat forsooth in a chapel and
   whilst with sweetness of prayer or meditation muckle I was delighted,
   suddenly in me I felt a merry heat and unknown."

   Now, when we ask ourselves what Rolle really meant by this image of
   heat or fire, we stand at the beginning of a long quest. This is one of
   those phrases, half metaphors, yet metaphors so apt that we might also
   call them descriptions of experience, which are natural to mystical
   literature. Immemorially old, yet eternally fresh, they appear again
   and again; nor need we always attribute such reappearances to conscious
   borrowing. The fire of love is a term which goes back at least to the
   fourth century of our era; it is used by St. Macarius of Egypt to
   describe the action of the Divine Energy upon the soul which it is
   leading to perfection. Its literary origins are of course
   scriptural--the fusion of the Johannine "God is love" with the fire
   imagery of the Hebrew prophets. "Behold! the Lord will come with fire!"
   "His word was in my heart as a burning fire." "He is like a refiner's
   fire."

   But, examining the passages in which Rolle speaks of that "Heat" which
   the "Fire of Love" induced in his purified and heavenward turning
   heart, we see that this denotes a sensual as well as a spiritual
   experience. Those interior states or moods to which, by the natural
   method of comparison that governs all descriptive speech, the self
   gives such sense-names as these of "Heat, Sweetness, and Song," react
   in many mystics upon the bodily state. Psycho-sensorial parallelisms
   are set up. The well-known phenomenon of stigmatization, occurring in
   certain hypersensitive temperaments as the result of deep meditation
   upon the Passion of Christ, is perhaps the best clue by which we can
   come to understand how such a term as "the fire of love" has attained a
   double significance for mystical psychology. It is first a poetic
   metaphor of singular aptness; describing a spiritual state which is, as
   Rolle says himself in "The Form of Perfect Living," "So burning and
   gladdening, that he or she who is in this degree can as well feel the
   fire of love burning in their soul as thou canst feel thy finger burn
   if thou puttest it in the fire." Secondly, it represents, or may
   represent in certain temperaments, an induced sense-automatism, which
   may vary from the slightest of suggestions to an intense hallucination:
   as the equivalent automatic process which issues in "visions" or
   "voices" may vary from that "sense of a presence" or consciousness of a
   message received, which is the purest form in which our surface
   consciousness objectivizes communion with God, to the vivid picture
   seen, the voice clearly heard, by many visionaries and auditives.

   The "first state" of burning love to which Rolle attained when his
   purification was at an end, does seem to have produced in him such a
   psycho-physical hallucination. He makes it plain in the prologue of the
   Incendium that he felt, in a physical sense, the spiritual fire, truly,
   not imaginingly; as St. Teresa--to take a well-known historical
   example--felt the transverberation of the seraph's spear which pierced
   her heart. This form of automatism, though not perhaps very common, is
   well known in the history of religious experience; and many ascetic
   writers discuss it. Thus in that classic of spiritual common sense,
   "The Cloud of Unknowing," we find amongst the many delusions which may
   beset "young presumptuous contemplatives," "Many quaint heats and
   burnings in their bodily breasts"--which may sometimes indeed be the
   work of good angels (i.e., the physical reflection of true spiritual
   ardour) yet should ever be had suspect, as possible devices of the
   devil. Again, Walter Hilton includes in his list of mystical
   automatisms, and views with the same suspicion, "sensible heat, as it
   were fire, glowing and warming the breast." In the seventeenth century
   Augustine Baker, in his authoritative work on the prayer of
   contemplation mentions "warmth about the heart" as one of the "sensible
   graces," or physical sensations of religious origin, known to those who
   aspire to union with God. In our own day, the Carmelite nun Soeur
   Thérèse de l'Enfant-Jésus describes an experience in which she "felt
   herself suddenly pierced by a dart of fire." "I cannot," she says,
   "explain this transport, nor can any comparison express the intensity
   of this flame. It seemed to me that an invisible force immersed me
   completely in fire." Allowing for the strong probability that the form
   of Soeur Thérèse's transport was influenced by her knowledge of the
   life of her great namesake, we have no grounds for doubting the honesty
   of her report; the fact that she felt in a literal sense, though in a
   way hard for less ardent temperaments to understand, the burning of the
   divine fire. Her simple account--glossing, as it were, the declarations
   of the historian and the psychologist--surely gives us a hint as to the
   way in which we ought to read the statements of other mystics,
   concerning their knowledge of the "fire of love."

   Rolle's second stage, to which he gives the name of "sweetness", is
   easier of comprehension than the first. It represents the natural
   movement of consciousness from passion to peace, from initiation to
   possession, as the contemplative learns to live and move in this new
   atmosphere of Reality: the exquisite joy which characterizes one phase
   of the soul's communion with God. He calls it a "heavenly savour"; a
   "sweet mystery"; a "marvellous honey." "With great labor it is got; but
   with joy untold it is possessed." It is of such sweetness that the
   author of "The Cloud of Unknowing"--that stern critic of all those so
   called mystical experiences which come in by the windows of the
   wits--writes in terms which almost seem to be inspired by a personal
   experience.

   "Sometimes He will inflame the body of devout servants of His here in
   this life: not once or twice, but peradventure right oft and as Him
   liketh, with full wonderful sweetness and comforts. Of the which, some
   be not coming from without into the body by the windows of our wits,
   but from within; rising and springing of abundance of ghostly gladness,
   and of true devotion in the spirit. Such a comfort and such a sweetness
   shall not be had suspect: and shortly to say, I trow that he that
   feeleth it may not have it suspect."

   That intimate and joyful apprehension of the supersensuous which Rolle
   calls "sweetness" is not rigidly separated either from the burning
   ardour which preceded it, or the "third" state of exultant harmony, of
   adoring contemplation--prayer pouring itself forth in wild yet measured
   loveliness--which he calls "song"; and which is the most characteristic
   form of his communion with the Divine Love. All three, in fact, as we
   see in the beautiful eighth chapter of "The Form of Perfect Living,"
   are fluctuating expressions of the "Third Degree of Love, highest and
   most wondrous to win." They co-exist in the soul which has attained to
   it: now one and now the other taking command. "The soul that is in the
   third degree is all burning fire, and like the nightingale that loves
   song and melody, and fails for great love: so that the soul is only
   comforted in praising and loving God . . . and this manner of song have
   none unless they be in the third degree of love: to the which degree it
   is impossible to come, but in a great multitude of love."

   This true lover, he says again in the Incendium, "has sweetness, heat
   and ghostly song, of which before I have oft touched, and by this he
   serves God, and Him loving without parting to Him draws . . . Sometime
   certain more he feels of heat and sweetness, and with difficulty he
   sings, sometime truly with great sweetness and busyness he is ravished,
   when heat is felt the less; oft also into ghostly song with great mirth
   he flees and passes, and also he knows the heat and sweetness of love
   with him are. Nevertheless heat is never without sweetness, although
   sometime it be without ghostly song."

   Rolle's own first experience of this state of song, like the oncoming
   of the "Fire," seems to have had a marked psycho-sensorial character.
   His passion of love and praise translated itself into the "Song of
   Angels"; and the celestial melody was first heard by him with the
   outward as well as with the inward ear. "In the night before supper, as
   I mine Salves I sung, as it were the noise of readers or rather singers
   about me I beheld. Whilst also praying to heaven with all desire I took
   heed, on what manner I wot not suddenly in me noise of song I felt; and
   likingest heavenly melody I took, with me dwelling in mind."

   We gather from the writings of other mystics of the medieval period
   that such an experience was a well understood accompaniment of the
   contemplative life. Like the "burning of the fire" it was one amongst
   those "sensible comforts"--or, as we should now say, automatisms--which
   were never accepted at their face value as certain marks of divine
   favour, but were studied and analyzed with the robust common sense that
   characterizes true spirituality. Walter Hilton, in a tract on the "Song
   of Angels" which is certainly inspired by, and was long attributed to
   Rolle himself, says of it: "When the soul is lifted and ravished out of
   the sensuality, and out of mind of any earthly things, then in great
   fervour of love and light (if our Lord vouchsafe) the soul may hear and
   feel heavenly sound, made by the presence of angels in loving of God .
   . . Methinketh that there may no soul feel verily angel's song nor
   heavenly sound, but he be in perfect charity; though all that are in
   perfect charity have not felt it, but only that soul that is so
   purified in the fire of love that all earthly savour is brent out of
   it, and all mean letting between the soul and the cleanness of angels
   is broken and put away from it. Then soothly may he sing a new song,
   and soothly he may hear a blest heavenly sound, and angel's song
   without deceit or feigning."

   Such "Song"--where it really represents the soul's consciousness of
   supernal harmonies, and is not merely the hallucination of one who "by
   indiscreet travailing turneth the brains in his head" so that "for
   feebleness of the brain, him thinketh that he heareth wonderful sounds
   and songs"--does for the temperament which inclines to translate its
   intuitions into music, that which the experience of vision does for
   those whose apprehensions of reality more easily crystallize into a
   pictorial form. One seems to see, another seems to hear, that Perfect
   Beauty which is the source and inspiration of all our fragmentary arts.
   For Rolle, by nature a poet and a musician, the language of music
   possessed a special attraction and appropriateness: and not only its
   language but its practice too. Like Francis of Assisi, Catherine of
   Genoa, Teresa, Rose of Lima, and many other saints, he was driven to
   lyrical and musical expression by his own rapture of love and joy. "Oh
   Good Jesu! my heart Thou hast bound in thought of Thy Name, and now I
   cannot but sing it."

   All mystics are potential poets. Rolle was an actual poet too. Hence by
   the Canor, which was the third form by which his rapture of love was
   expressed, we must understand not only the "Celestial Melody" in which
   he participated in ecstatic moments, not only those exultant moods of
   "great plenty of inward joy" when the spiritual song "swelled to his
   mouth" and he sang his prayers "with a ghostly symphony," as St.
   Catherine of Genoa "sang all day for joy"; but also the genuine poetic
   inspiration to which his writings give ample testimony. All these are
   varying expressions of one life and one love: for the great mystic,
   living in contact with Eternity, is seldom careful to note the exact
   boundary which marks off "inward" from "outward" or earth from heaven.
   To Rolle, contemplation was the song of the soul: song was
   contemplation expressed. Some, he observes in "The Mending of Life,"
   think that contemplation is the knowledge of deep mysteries: others
   that it is the state of total concentration on spiritual things: others
   again that it is an elevation of mind which makes the self dead to all
   fleshy desires. All these no doubt are true in their measure: but "to
   me it seems that contemplation is joyful song of God's love." It is
   love and joy "with great voice out-breaking" as the ascending spirit
   stretches towards the Only Fair. Rolle's mysticism is fundamentally of
   the "outgoing" type. He seldom uses the language of introversion, or
   speaks of God as found within the heart; but pictures the soul's quest
   of Reality as a journey, a flight from self, an encounter "in the
   wilderness" with Love. "Love truly suffers not a loving soul to bide in
   itself, but ravishes it out to the lover, that the soul is more there
   where it loves, than where the body is that lives and feels it." When
   the Canor seizes him, his spirit seems to rush forth on the wings of
   its own music, that "music that to me is come by burning love, in which
   I sing before Jesu": for indeed his "song", whether silent melody or
   articulate, is love in action; the glad and humble passion of adoration
   taking poetic form.

   We see then at last that Heat, Sweetness, and Song are each and all
   names for, and psycho-physical expressions of, one thing--that
   many-coloured, many-graded miracle of Love which is the substance of
   all mysticism, and alone has power to catch man into the divine
   atmosphere, initiate him into the friendship of God. "O dear Charity .
   . . Thou enterest boldly the bedchamber of the King Everlasting: thou
   only art not ashamed Christ to take. He it is that thou hast sought and
   loved. Christ is thine: hold Him, for He may not but take thee, to whom
   thou only desirest to obey."

   Here we find, fused together, the highest flights of mystical passion
   for the Ineffable God, and the intense devotion to the Person of
   Christ: the special quality which marked all that was best in English
   religion of the medieval period. In such passages--and his works abound
   in them--Rolle sets the pattern to which all the great English mystics
   who followed him conformed. Were we asked, indeed, to state their
   peculiar characteristic, I think that we must find it here: in the
   combination of loftiest transcendentalism with the loving and intimate
   worship of the Holy Name. Thus it is that they solve the eternal mystic
   paradox of an unconditioned yet a personal God. "The Scale of
   Perfection," "The Cloud of Unknowing," "The Revelations of Divine
   Love," all turn on this point: and those who discount their strongly
   Christian and personal quality, gravely misunderstand the nature of the
   vision by which their writers were inspired.

   Of the two works of Richard Rolle which Miss Comper here presents in a
   modernized form, "The Fire of Love" represents his subjective
   manner--"The Mending of Life" an attempt towards the orderly
   presentation of his ascetic doctrine. The whole system of his teaching,
   in so far as a system was possible to so poetic and "inspired" a
   temperament, aims at the induction of other men to that state in which
   they can fulfill the supreme vocation of humanity: take part in
   "angels' song," the music of adoration which all created spirits sing
   to God. He knows that the "ghostly song" of highest contemplation is a
   special gift, a grace shed into the soul, and does not hesitate to
   proclaim his own peculiar possession of it: yet he is sure that the
   heavenly melodies may be evoked, in a certain measure, in all who are
   surrendered to divine love. The method by which he would educate the
   soul to the point at which it can participate in the life of Reality,
   is that method of asceticism--profound contrition, mortification and
   prayer--which he has followed himself: here conforming to the doctrine
   of the three great masters of the spiritual life whose writings had
   influenced him most, St. Bernard, Richard of St. Victor, and St.
   Bonaventura. Though he often seems in his more didactic works to echo
   the teaching of these doctors, and in some passages repeats their very
   words--as for instance in his description of the Three Degrees of Love,
   and in his doctrine of Ecstasy--yet all that he says has been
   actualized by him in his own personal experience. His most "dogmatic"
   utterances burn with passion: he uses the maps of his great
   predecessors because he has tested them and found them true. It is
   commonly said that the Incendium Amoris--that most personal and
   unconventional of works--is an imitation of St. Bonaventura's Stimulus
   Amoris. Apart from the fact that the Stimulus Amoris is no longer
   accepted as an authentic work of St. Bonaventura, but was probably
   composed by James of Milan, the two books--as any may see who take the
   trouble to compare them--have hardly a character in common. True, both
   are largely concerned with the Love of God; but so are all the works of
   Christian mysticism. The subjective element which occupies so large a
   place in the Incendium is wholly absent from the Stimulus. There we
   find no autobiography, rather an orderly didactic treatise, miles
   asunder from the Yorkshire hermit's fervid rhapsodies. The Incendium is
   not an artificial composition, but a work of original genius. It is the
   rhapsody and confession of a "God-intoxicated" poet, who longed to tell
   his love, yet knew that all his powers of expression could not
   communicate one little point of the vision and the ecstasy to which he
   had been raised: "Would God of that melody a man I might find author,
   the which though not in word, yet in writing my joy he should sing."

   Passionate feeling taking artistic form: this perhaps is the ruling
   character of all Rolle's mystical writings. He has been accused of
   laying undue emphasis upon emotional experience. Yet a stern system of
   ethics--as we may see from his life as well as from his
   works--underlies this exultant participation in the music of the
   spheres. Though some may be repelled by his love of that solitude in
   which heart speaks to heart, or amused by his quaint praise of the
   virtues of "sitting"--the attitude which he found most conductive to
   contemplation--surely none can fail to be impressed by the heroic
   self-denials, the devoted missionary labours, which ran side by side
   with this intense interior life. His love was essentially dynamic; it
   invaded and transmuted all departments of his nature, and impelled him
   as well to acts of service as to songs of joy. He was no spiritual
   egotist, no mere seeker for transcendental satisfaction; but one of
   those for whom the divine goodness and beauty are coupled together in
   insoluble union, even as "the souls of the lover and the loved."

   NOTE: My quotations from "The Fire of Love" and "The Mending of Life"
   are made direct from Richard Misyn's fifteenth century English
   translation, as printed by the Early English Text Society: save only
   for modernization of the spelling. They may not therefore agree in all
   particulars with Miss Comper's version. I have used Miss Geraldine
   Hodgson's edition of "The Form of Perfect Living" (1910); my own of
   "The Cloud of Unknowing" (1912), and the text of "The Song of Angels"
   which is printed from Pepwell by Mr. Edmund Gardner in "The Cell of
   Self-knowledge" (New Medieval Library, 1910).
     __________________________________________________________________

   [1] Richard Rolle was probably born about 1290 and died in 1349: "The
   Cloud of Unknowing" was written in the second half of the fourteenth
   century: Walter Hilton died about 1396: Julian of Norwich was born in
   1343, and was still living in 1413.
     __________________________________________________________________

Abbreviations

   A.       Ms. Add. 37790 Brit. Mus.
   Bg.      La Bigne's Maxima Biblioteca Patrum.
   C.       Corpus Christi Coll. MS. 236 Oxfd.
   D.       Douce MS. 322 Bod.
   E.E.T.S. Early English Text Society.
   L.       MS. Dd. 5.64 Camb.
   M.E.     Middle English.
   O.E.D.   Oxford English Dictionary.
   Sp.      Speculum Spiritualium.
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

  EDITOR'S PREFACE

   Of mysticism, as of all the greatest things in life, the characteristic
   notes are sincerity and simplicity. Its nature and birth are better
   felt by the heart than uttered by the tongue. Therefore the increasing
   interest in mysticism, evidenced by the multiplication of books,
   essays, criticism, and correspondence on the subject, is rather to be
   dreaded than welcomed by the mystic. For mysticism like love is shy as
   the wild bird. Criticism destroys it; discussion frightens it away.
   Doubtless it can live in the heart of every man; only that heart must
   be pure, and free from anxiety and worldly love; since to the Christian
   mysticism is nothing else that that love which is the sole definition
   of God that man can comprehend.

   He that has found the secret of this love, which possesses alike the
   world of nature and of man, has found the secret of the mystic. For it
   is not a respecter of persons, nor reserved for the few. The old woman
   sitting over her peat fire, the shepherd upon the lonely hills, the
   workman breaking stones by the roadside, even the "great divine lapped
   in infinite questions" or the anchoress in her cell; all indeed who are
   "more busy to know God than many things," have glimpses of this secret.
   And it was for those who would rather know God's love than know about
   it that this book was written so long ago.

   For six centuries the dust of oblivion has hidden Richard Rolle from
   our knowledge. True, his name was known as the author of a long
   Northern poem called the Prick of Conscience, but it has lately been
   proved that, whatever else he may have written, this most certainly he
   did not write. [2] Of him and of the other English mystics of his time,
   we knew but little. As we may have stood by and watched a statue,
   modeled by some sculptor dead these many hundred years, being slowly
   and carefully unearthed in a villa garden near Rome, so now we look on
   with interest as scholars, mostly of other nations than our own, are
   laboriously restoring to us the mystical writings of these Englishmen,
   long ago dead, and now for the most part nameless.

   Yet Richard Rolle, the first of these great mystics, had revealed
   himself to us in his writings. Race counts for much in character, and
   in reading his books we can never forget that he comes of the sturdy
   stock of Yorkshiremen. Honest, somewhat blunt and plainspoken,
   especially in regard to women, and full of common sense, it is the more
   remarkable that he should in so many ways recall to us the sweet singer
   of Assisi. And yet, as Miss Underhill has shown us, he joins hands
   across the century with the poet of love and poverty who preached to
   the birds under the ilex-tree at the Carceri; while from another point
   of view he has kinship with the monk of Windesheim, the words of whose
   Ecclesiastical Music are constantly recalled to our minds by this other
   Melody of Love. As we read it we find that the problems which
   confronted Richard in his hermit's cell at Hampole are the same as
   confront the thoughtful man today. He is distressed by the
   friendlessness, rather than the poverty, of the poor; the oppression
   and worldliness of the rich; the wrong and selfish acquisition of land;
   the utter destructiveness of sin; the hypocrisy and backbiting of those
   who "fill the kirks." Then, as now, men desired to escape from the
   transient to the eternal; from the overwhelming power of the material
   to the spiritual; from the turmoil and confusion of strange ideas and
   social upheaval and crying injustice, to the rest and peace to be found
   in humility and brotherly love. As in the old emblem of the two crossed
   pieces of wood bearing the wayfarer safely over the stormy sea, the
   love of God laid athwart the love of man bears the soul safely over the
   waves of this life.

   And this love is the sum and substance of Rolle's mysticism. We find in
   his writings few definitions or classifications, which are so frequent
   in many mystical works; for it was as impossible for him as for Saint
   Francis--who in his life was the greatest exponent of mysticism that
   the world has ever seen--to lay down rules regarding love. The love of
   child and parent, of young man and maid, with all the deeds of heroism
   and sacrifice which such love has engendered, are but as pale symbols
   of the love which has given birth to the ancient literature of
   mysticism. This love is as a fire or a raging flame. "It verily
   inflames the mind," says Richard; "Love sets my heart on fire," sings
   Francis.

   To most this love comes only as the reward of long search and striving.
   It is a quest on which a man may start out in company, but he must end
   alone--with God: and in proportion as we attain to it we find the
   solution of many problems, the secret of life, and the key to the
   "mysteries of the Kingdom."
     __________________________________________________________________

   [2] See The Authorship of the Prick of Conscience, by H. E. Allen,
   Radcliffe College Monographs, No. 15 (Ginn & Co., 1910)
     __________________________________________________________________

  METHOD AND AIM OF THIS MODERNIZATION

   This book is not meant for the scholar. For him Rolle's own versions
   are accessible in numerous MSS.; and Misyn's Middle English translation
   has been printed by the Early English Text Society. [3] But there are
   many who find in Misyn's curious spellings and constructions a serious
   obstacle to the sense, and it is for such that this edition has been
   prepared. My aim has been to make Rolle's meaning clear to the modern
   reader with as little alteration of Misyn's text as possible. I have
   modernized the spelling, have simplified long and involved
   constructions, and have tried to elucidate the meaning by careful
   punctuation. But I have dealt very sparingly with the vocabulary,
   keeping as many of the old words as seemed likely to be understood, and
   especially those which still linger in Scottish dialect, as being a
   reminder to the reader of the Northern origin of the book. Where the
   text appears to be corrupt and emendation has been necessary, I have
   used for this purpose, for The Fire of Love the Cambridge MS. Dd. 5.64
   (which I call L), and for The Mending of Life the printed editions;
   comparing them with the MSS. referred to in the notes at the end of
   this book, where I have given the Latin and Middle English originals. A
   short passage [4] has been omitted as unsuited for modern readers; and,
   on the other hand, where obvious omissions occur in Misyn's text, they
   have been supplied from the MSS. mentioned. When I have altered an
   obsolete word I give such, the first time it occurs, in a foot note.
   Any words of difficult meaning will be found in the Glossary, and I
   have in this case also added a footnote on their first occurrence in
   the text. Other points I have gone more fully into under the section
   Treatment of Words.

   It has been, and very probably may again be contended, that a better
   result would have been obtained by translating straight from the
   original. This would in many ways have been easier, but the insuperable
   objection to such a course lies in the fact that the Latin MSS. of
   these works of Rolle have not yet been collated; and no satisfactory
   translation can be made until we have discovered which is Rolle's
   autograph. Moreover there is a certain charm in this early translation
   of Misyn's which no modern one, however excellent, could reproduce.
   Rolle died in 1349, but the Office for his canonization was not
   prepared until 1381, and still later the Miracula were collected. His
   memory must have remained fresh in men's minds; indeed this is born out
   by the fact that so many extant copies of his works date from the
   fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The influence of his spirit was
   still a living one; and this translation has embodied and preserved for
   us the simple faith and enthusiastic love of the generation for which
   it was written. Read and meditated upon by English men and women of
   long ago although it has been lost to sight nearly five hundred years
   it deals with a theme that is ever fresh. It will be an interesting
   experiment to see whether it can yet appeal to us--whether a genuine
   English book of piety can hold its own with those of other nations.

   In my modernization I am aware that I have laid myself open to
   criticism in many directions. I have not striven after consistency, but
   have tried solely to retain as far as possible the simplicity and charm
   of the original translation. Misyn has been called a slavish
   translator; certainly he has not avoided the faults of his master.
   Repetitions, especially of words and phrases, are even more constant in
   this version than in the original, while some of the forms and spelling
   he employs make the modernizer's task by no means an easy one. Dr.
   Horstman, in his interesting preface to the collection of the English
   writings of Richard Rolle, after laying stress upon his originality and
   lyric gift, thus sums up his defects: "His defects lie on the side of
   method and discrimination; he is weak in argumentation, in developing
   and arranging his ideas. His sense of beauty is natural rather than
   acquired, and his mind is too restless to perfect his writings
   properly. His form is not sufficiently refined, and full of
   irregularities; his taste not unquestionable; his style frequently
   difficult, rambling, full of veiled allusions--much depends on the
   punctuation to make it intelligible; his Latin incorrect and not at all
   classic-- . . . But all this cannot detract from his great qualities as
   a writer, the originality and depth of his thought, the truth and
   tenderness of his feeling, the vigour and eloquence of his prose, the
   grace and beauty of his verse; and everywhere we detect the marks of a
   great personality, a personality at once powerful, tender and strange,
   the like of which was perhaps never seen again." [5]

   This criticism is perhaps a little severe for a part of Rolle's charm
   lies in his restlessness of thought. His mind moved rapidly, and he
   loved to play with a word. His writings are full of antitheses and
   balance and rhythm--in this respect anticipating Lily [6] --which
   Misyn's translation well reproduces. If to us his repetitions appear
   wearisome and monotonous, we must at least remember that they were
   written not to be read as a continuous whole, but aloud, in chapter or
   refectory; for one copy had probably to do service for the community.

   I have therefore aimed at reproducing Misyn's translation with all its
   irregularities, only endeavouring to make his meaning clear. My method
   of doing so will be more fully explained in the following section.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [3] E.E.T.S., orig. series, 106, 1896

   [4] In The Fire of Love, Bk. I, chap. xiv.

   [5] Yorkshire Writers. Ed. by C. Horstman (Swan Sonnenschein & Co.,
   1895), vol. ii. p.xxxv.

   [6] The Prose Style of Richard Rolle, by J. P. Schneider (Baltimore,
   1906), p.62, seq.
     __________________________________________________________________

  SOURCES

   The Fire of Love and The Mending of Life were first printed by the
   Early English Text Society, in 1896 from the Corpus Christi College MS.
   236, at Oxford. At that time it was the only MS. known of Misyn's
   translation, but four years ago, at Lord Amherst's sale, the British
   Museum bought an English MS. of the fifteenth century, known as Add.
   MS. 37790, containing several very important mystical treatises, [7]
   and among them these two translations by Misyn. This I have collated
   with the Corpus MS. (which I call C), and have noted any important
   differences in the text as they occur. They are very few and are mostly
   confined to spelling; the Amherst MS. showing the influence of a
   Southern scribe. [8] From the doubling of vowels and consonants in such
   words as bee, wee, off, nott, ffor, etc., and the writing of th for p,
   one would infer that the Amherst is probably of rather later date than
   the Corpus MS. In this latter The Fire of Love precedes The Mending of
   Life, although the explicits give 1434 as the date of the translation
   of The Mending of Life, and 1435 for The Fire of Love; but in the
   Amherst MS. they are given in their correct chronological order. I
   have, however, kept to the order of the Corpus MS., since The Fire of
   Love is by far the longer and more important of the two works.

   The editor of the Corpus MS. for the Early English Text Society draws
   attention to the fact that the explicit to the second book of The Fire
   of Love contains the statement that it was translated by Richard Misyn,
   with the addition of these words, "per dictum fratrem Richardum Misyn
   scriptum et correctum." [9] This was by some too easily considered a
   proof that we have here Misyn's autograph; but judging from the wrong
   chronological order Mr. Harvey concludes that this is not the case. It
   is therefore worth noting that the explicit in the Amherst MS. is word
   for word the same as in the Corpus MS., which fact, added to the
   probability of its later date, makes it unlikely that here either we
   have Misyn's autograph. It is more probable that both were copies of
   the autograph--the Corpus being the work of a more Northern scribe than
   the Amherst--and that neither copyist exercised sufficient discretion
   to omit Misyn's personal note.

   At present the question of the Rolle canon is most confused and
   uncertain. Scholars [10] are working at it, and it is to be hoped the
   autograph of both Rolle and Misyn will soon be discovered. In the
   meantime the only possible course open to me was to choose the best
   available Latin MS. with which to compare Misyn's translation whenever
   difficulties arose. For the Incendium I have taken a Cambridge MS. (Dd.
   5.64, referred to as L). For the De Emendatione it has been less
   simple, because several printed versions exist of this work, all
   differing considerably. Misyn sometimes seems to follow one and
   sometimes another, showing clearly that he is translating from neither
   of these versions; and in the MSS. to which I have had access the
   variants are as numerous. For this reason I have been very chary of
   suggesting any emendations in my version of this work. Obvious
   omissions I have supplied from another early translation in the
   Bodleian (Douce MS. 322, which I call D). It seems to be of much the
   same date as Misyn's, if anything rather later. It is not Northern, and
   is on the whole a freer translation and has more attempt after style;
   whereas Misyn's rendering is rather bald, being often very little more
   than a gloss on the Latin. I have, however, followed Misyn, since we
   owe to him the longer and more important work of Rolle which this
   volume contains. [11]

   I owe some apology to the reader for the notes, which may seem too
   numerous for a popular edition; but the difficulties and obscurities in
   the text have called for emendations and explanations which have
   necessitated rather full notes. I have been careful to place these at
   the end, so that they who use this book as it was intended by the
   author to be used need not be distracted by them.

   The portrait of Rolle in the frontispiece is taken from a Cotton MS.
   (Faust. B. VI. 2.) in the British Museum of a Northern poem called the
   Desert of Religion. The authorship of this poem is unknown, although it
   has usually been ascribed to Walter Hilton. It describes the trees
   which grow in the wilderness, or desert, of religion. These symbolical
   trees are drawn on the first side of each page; the reverse side is
   divided into two columns, the one containing the poem itself, while on
   the other some saint of the desert is depicted.

   On the first side of the page containing this picture of Richard the
   Hermit there is a rude drawing of a tree, with six leaves on either
   side, representing the twelve abuses that grow among religions. They
   are as follows:

   A prelate negligent:       A discipil inobediente.
   A youngman idill:          Ane alde mane obstinate.
   A mownke cowrtioure:       A mounke pletoure.
   Ane habite preciouse:      Mete daintinouse.
   New tithandes in clostere: Strivynge in the chapitour.
   Dissolucioun in the qwere: Irreverence aboute the auter.

   In the picture the hermit is represented seated on the grass in a white
   habit, with the sacred monogram in gold on his breast, and holding a
   book in his left hand. On either side is a stiffly drawn tree. Above,
   resting on clouds, are three angels bearing a scroll with the words:
   Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus; Dominus Deus Sabaoth; pleni sunt celi et
   terra gloria tua. Round the picture the following verse is written:

   A solitari here:            hermite life i lede,
   For ihesu loue so dere:     all flescli lufe i flede;
   Pat gastli comforthe clere; that in my breast brede,
   Might me a thowsande yeere: in heuenly strengthe haue stedd

   There is no evidence that this picture is a genuine portrait. It
   recalls some early portraits of Saint Francis. The hair is light in
   colour, and cut evenly round the head, and the beard divided into two
   small points. The saint's face is not emaciated, but of a clear
   complexion with a touch of red upon the cheeks. Both the other
   manuscripts of The Desert of Religion contain pictures of Richard
   Hermit, but since none are known to be authentic, I have chosen this
   which seems the most interesting.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [7] Two of these have lately been printed: viz., a shorter version of
   the Revelations vouchsafed to Lady Julian of Norwich, under the title
   Comfortable Words for Christ's Lovers, ed. by Rev. D. Harford
   (Allenson), and extracts from The Mirror of Simple Souls, ed. by Evelyn
   Underhill. Porch Series, I. No. 8. (J. M. Watkins.)

   [8] e.g., A. ought, schalle, whilk, folowe, gif. C. oght, sall, qwilk,
   felo, if.

   [9] E.E.T.S., p.x.

   [10] Notably Miss H. E. Allen, who is preparing for publication a
   descriptive catalogue of Rolle's writings, based on an examination of
   all the accessible manuscripts. This work will include a discussion of
   the Rolle canon. Also a Latin version of the Incendium Amoris will
   shortly be published by the Manchester University Press, edited by Miss
   Deanesly, of Newnham College.

   [11] The Rev. D. Harford has edited an early fifteenth century version
   of The Mending of Life, taken from a Cambridge MS., which has just been
   published by Allenson.
     __________________________________________________________________

  TREATMENT OF WORDS

   Personally I should have preferred to retain all the words which Misyn
   employs, in the hope that some would find their way back into our too
   much latinized English; but I feared to outweary the patience of the
   reader. The following is a list of those which I have altered in the
   text, with their nearest modern equivalents.

   addling to     earning
   aseth          satisfaction
   bolnes         puffs up
   chinche        miser
   fagiar, faged  flatterer, flattered
   fliting        reproof
   forthink       repent
   foyd           pledge
   groching       grumbling
   groundly       from the root
   inhiry         inward or inner
   lat            behave
   large          generous
   leman          beloved
   loving, lufing praise
   menged, melled mingled
   ugg            abhor
   undirlowt      overcome
   unneth         scarcely
   sam            together
   scrithe        glide
   sparples       scatter
   tityst         soonest
   wode, wodeness mad, madness
   well           to wither

   I have kept words which are of common occurrence in the Bible and
   Prayer Book, and those still in use in Scotland. There are, however,
   some words which remain in modern English but which have altered or
   restricted their meaning. Such are very apt to mislead the modern
   reader. I have, therefore, treated them freely, retaining them when in
   a modern sense or when their meaning is quite apparent, but changing
   them if the meaning is at all ambiguous. I append here a full list of
   these, to avoid the multiplication of footnotes.

   Misyn often uses "withouten" for "without," for the sake of rhythm, and
   in this I have followed him; nor have I taken upon myself to suppress
   his constant repetition of "truly," "forsooth," "doubtless," "certain,"
   "sickerly." Sometimes these translate the Latin vero, valde, certe,
   etc., but more often than not stand for an ordinary conjunction, such
   as enim, namque, autem. O.E.D. against a word in the footnote signifies
   that the actual word or phrase found in Misyn is quoted in the Oxford
   English Dictionary.

   Where the meaning is obscure I have altered:

   against             to towards
   avoid               make void
   barely              utterly
   beholding           contemplating, or considering
   busily              continually
   charge              care, consider
   cherish             allure
   deadly, deadliness  mortal, mortality
   drawn to            cleave (L. adhaerere)
   emonge              in the meantime
   herefore            hence
   honily              honeyed, honey-sweet
   ill                 evil
   kind                nature, essence
   lasts               perseveres
   liking              delight, pleasure
   lovely              lovable
   longs               languishes
   lust                pleasure
   manner              measure
   mind                memory
   namely              especially
   plainly             entirely, altogether (L. penitus)
   rots, unable to rot corrupts, incorruptible
   softly              little by little, slowly
   soundly             with sweet sound, songful
   stands              continues
   swells              inflates
   show                declare
   taken               received
   taught              imbued
   thinking            meditating, or meditation
   use                 enjoy, exercise
   wanting             lacking
   wherefore           whence
   withhold            hold to, retain
   worship             honour
   wretchedness        wickedness
     __________________________________________________________________

  BIOGRAPHICAL
     __________________________________________________________________

      (i) RICHARD ROLLE

   It is interesting to remember that B. Richard H. of Hampole was among
   the names included in the prospectus which Newman drew up for The Lives
   of the English Saints. He tells us in a note to the Apologia [12] ,
   that "He has included in the series a few eminent or holy persons, who,
   though not in the Sacred Catalogue, are recommended to our religious
   memory by their fame, learning, or the benefits they have conferred on
   posterity." Unfortunately Rolle shared the fate of the hundred and
   eighty-three whose lives were never written.

   Various short biographies of Richard Rolle have appeared recently
   appended to editions of his works, the most complete of which are those
   of Dr. Horstman and the Rev. H. R. Bramley. These are drawn from the
   Legenda or Lections, given in the special Office, which the nuns of
   Hampole prepared in the hope of his canonization. This did not take
   place because of the unsettled state of the church, due to the rise of
   Lollardry, although, from the note prefixed to it, the Office seems to
   have been used privately. The Miracula were included in it, and were
   arranged to be read as Lections during the octave of the Feast.

   Since the Legenda are the source of our knowledge of Rolle's life, and
   are largely drawn from his own writings, and more especially from the
   Incendium Amoris, it has seemed well to give them in full. I have
   translated them from the collation of the three MSS. published by the
   Surtees Society. They form the nine lections, to be read at Matins on
   the Feast Day of the saint.

   The nuns, to whom Richard ministered and with whom he died, belonged to
   a well-known Cistercian House at Hampole. [13] Nothing now remains of
   the convent, but the Rev. R. H. Benson gives the following interesting
   description of the place. "Hampole is still a tiny hamlet, about seven
   miles distant from Doncaster. There has never been a parish church
   there, and in Richard's time the spiritual needs of the people would no
   doubt be met by the convent chapel. Of the nunnery there are now no
   certain traces, except where a few mounds in the meadows by the stream
   below the hamlet mark its foundations, and beyond a few of its stones
   built into the school house. The few grey stone houses nestle together
   on the steep slope in a shallow nook in the hill, round an open space
   where the old village spring still runs. There is no trace of Richard's
   cell; but, in spit of the railway line in the valley, the place has a
   curious detached air, lying, as it does, a complete and self-contained
   whole, below the Doncaster road, fringed and shadowed by trees, and
   bordered with low-lying meadows rich, in early summer, with daisies and
   buttercups, and dotted with numerous may trees; the farthest horizon
   from the hamlet is not more than a mile or two away."
     __________________________________________________________________

   [12] Apologia, Note D., p. 334 (Longmans, 1883).

   [13] See the Victoria History, Yorkshire, vol. iii. 163
     __________________________________________________________________

      RICHARD MISYN

   The only fact we are certain of in regard to Richard Misyn is that he
   was the translator of the two treatises of Rolle which this volume
   contains. In the explicit to Book II of The Fire of Love we are told
   that he was then Prior of Lincoln and belonged to the Order of the
   Carmelites, 'per fratrem Ricardum Misyn, sacre theologie bachalaureum,
   tunc Priorem Lyncolniensem, ordinis carmelitarum'; but in the previous
   explicit to Book I he is mentioned only as a hermit belonging to the
   order, 'per fratrem Ricardum Misyn heremitam and ordinis carmelitarum
   Ac sacre theologie bachalaureum.'

   Rolle had died eighty-six years before, in 1349, but two of his
   miracles are dated and are as late as 1381 and 1383, so there is little
   reason to doubt that his name was very familiar to this other Richard,
   who also styled himself a hermit, and who, as far as we can gather, was
   of the same country.

   There are scanty records of a Richard Mysyn, a Carmelite and Suffragan,
   who is thought to be identical with Bishop Mesin or Musin of Dromore;
   for at that time to have a see in Ireland did not necessarily mean to
   reside there. This Frater Ric. Mysyn, Suffragenus, ordinis Fratrum
   Carmelitarium, is put first in the Register of the Corpus Christi Guild
   of York, under the date 1461-1462, and was admitted to the Guild by
   Dom. J. Burton, Rector of the Church of S. Martin in the Mickelgate,
   York. Bishop Musun's name also occurs in the legend round the famous
   cup preserved in the vestry of York Minister, and known as the Scrope
   Indulgence Cup. This inscription runs: Recharde arche beschope Scrope
   grantes on to all tho that drinkis of this cope xl dayis to pardun.
   Robert Gubsun. Beschope Musin grantes in same forme afore saide xl
   dayis to pardun. Robert Strensall.'

   In the Carmelite records preserved in a manuscript in the British
   Museum, the death is noted of a Richard Mesin, Bishop of Dromore, under
   the year 1462, who was buried with the other Fathers of the order in
   their monastery at York, i.e., in the same year as Richard Mysyn was
   admitted a member of the Corpus Christi Guild. But at present it must
   remain a matter merely of conjecture if these references relate to the
   Richard Misyn to whom we owe our translation.

   It now only remains for me to thank all those who have helped me by
   their kind advice and interest. I should like here to record my
   especial gratitude to Miss Evelyn Underhill, who read a part of my MS.,
   and to whose kindly aid and suggestions I am much indebted; to Father
   Cuthbert, O.S.F.C., who helped me over many difficulties in the Latin
   text; to Father Congreve, S.S.J.E., for his unfailing sympathy and
   help; and to Miss Corrie Prior who read the proofs with me. I also owe
   a very especial debt of gratitude to Professor H. J. C. Grierson, not
   only for his kindness in overlooking my preface, but also because
   anything I may have learnt of the beauty and inspiration of literature
   is due to his teaching. And there are many others I am not allowed to
   name, but for whose assistance I am none the less grateful.

   By a curious coincidence I find that I am writing the last words of my
   preface on the eve of the day set apart in the English Martyrology for
   the commemoration of Blessed Richard, Confessor and Eremite. May we not
   take it for a sign that he is still present with us in spirit, and as
   desirous of helping us today by his spiritual books and treatises,
   and--may we not add--by his prayers, as when he ministered to the nuns
   at Hampole, or repaired to his cell to sing psalms and hymns in honour
   of God. [14]
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   [14] Note: Under November 1st (after an account of S. Boniface): "The
   same day in the Monastery of Hampole neere DoncAster in Yorkshire the
   Commemoration of Blessed Richard Confessour & Ermite, whose singular
   spirit of piety & devotion, is left written and manifest to the world
   by his owne workes yet extant. He was first a Doctor, and then leaving
   the world became an Eremite, and led a solitary life neere to the
   forsaid Monastery of Hampole; to which place he was wont often to
   repayre, to sing psalmes and hymnes in honour of God, as himselfe
   testifieth in his works. And after many spirituall bookes and treatises
   by him wrytten, full of great sanctity of life and venerable old age,
   he finally rested in our Lord, about the year of Christ, one thousand
   three hundred fourty and nyne: and was buryed at Hampole." - From The
   English Martyrologe, p. 301. By a Catholicke Priest. 1608
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A TRANSLATION OF THE LEGENDA IN THE OFFICE PREPARED FOR THE BLESSED HERMIT
RICHARD [15]

   The office of Saint Richard, hermit, after he shall be canonized by the
   Church, because in the meantime it is not allowed to sing the canonical
   hours for him in public, nor to solemnize his feast. Nevertheless,
   having evidence of the extreme sanctity of his life, we may venerate
   him and in our private devotions seeks his intercessions, and commend
   ourselves to his prayers.
     __________________________________________________________________

      Lection I.

   The saint of God, the hermit Richard, was born in the village of
   Thornton, near Pickering, in the diocese of York, and in due time, by
   the efforts of his parents, he was sent to be educated. When he was of
   adult age Master Thomas Neville, at one time Archdeacon of Durham,
   honourable maintained him in the University of Oxford, where he made
   great progress in study. He desired rather to be more fully and
   perfectly instructed in the theological doctrine of Holy Scripture than
   in physics or the study of secular knowledge. At length, in his
   nineteenth year, considering that the time of mortal life is uncertain
   and its end greatly to be dreaded (especially by those who either give
   themselves to fleshly lusts or only labour that they may acquire
   riches, and who, for these things, devote themselves to guile and
   deceit, yet they deceive themselves most of all), by God's inspiration
   he took thought betimes for himself, being mindful of his latter end,
   lest he should be caught in the snares of sinners.

   Hence, after he had returned from Oxford to his father's house, he said
   one day to his sister, who loved him with tender affection: My beloved
   sister, thou hast two tunics which I greatly covert, one white and the
   other grey. Therefore I ask thee if thou wilt kindly give them to me,
   and bring them me tomorrow to the wood near by, together with my
   father's rain hood.' She agreed willingly, and the next day, according
   to her promise, carried them to the said wood, being quite ignorant of
   what was in her brother's mind. And when he had received them he
   straightway cut off the sleeves from the grey tunic and the buttons
   from the white, and as best he could he fitted the sleeves to the white
   tunic, so that they might in some manner be suited to his purpose. Then
   he took off his own clothes with which he was clad and put on his
   sister's white tunic next his skin, but the grey, with the sleeves cut
   out, he put on over it, and put his arms through the holes which had
   been cut; and he covered his head with the rain hood aforesaid, so that
   thus in some measure, as far as was then in his power, he might present
   a certain likeness to a hermit. But when his sister saw this she was
   astounded and cried: My brother is mad! My brother is mad!' Whereupon
   he drove her from him with threats, and fled himself at once without
   delay, lest he should be seized by his friends and acquaintances.
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      LECTION II.

   After having thus put on the habit of a hermit and left his parents, he
   went to a certain church on the vigil of the Assumption of the most
   Blessed Virgin, Mother of God, and therein he set himself to pray, in
   the place where the wife of a certain worthy squire, named John de
   Dalton, was wont to pray. And when she entered the church to hear
   vespers, the servants of the squire's house wished to remove him from
   their lady's place. But she from humility would not permit them, lest
   he should be disturbed in his devotions. But when vespers were over,
   the sons of the said squire, who were scholars and had studied in the
   University of Oxford, noticed him as he rose from prayer, and said that
   he was the son of William Rolle, whom they had known at Oxford.

   Then, on the day of the aforesaid feast of the Assumption he again
   entered the same church; and without bidding from any one, he put on a
   surplice and sang matins and the office of mass with the others. And
   when the gospel had been read in the mass, having first besought the
   blessing of the priest, he went into the preacher's pulpit and gave the
   people a sermon of wonderful edification, insomuch that the multitude
   which heard it was so moved by his preaching that they could not
   refrain from tears; and they all said that they had never before heard
   a sermon of such virtue and power. And small wonder, since he was a
   special instrument of the Holy Spirit, and spoke with the very breath
   of Him whose it is, as saith the apostle to the Romans, to divide to
   every man severally as He will, and to make intercession for us with
   groanings which cannot be uttered.
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      LECTION III.

   Therefore, after mass, the aforesaid squire invited him to dinner, but
   when he entered his manor he betook himself to a certain mean and old
   room; for he would not enter the hall, but sought rather to fulfill the
   teaching of the gospel, which says, When thou art invited to a wedding,
   sit down in the lowest room; that when he that bade thee cometh, he may
   say unto thee, Friend, go up higher;' and this too was fulfilled in
   him. For when the squire had sought for him diligently, and at last
   found him in the aforesaid room, he set him above his own sons at the
   table. But he kept such perfect silence at dinner that not a word
   proceeded from his mouth. And when he had eaten enough he rose, before
   the table was removed, and prepared to depart. But the squire who had
   invited him said that this was not customary, and so prevailed upon him
   to sit down again. When the meal was over he again wished to depart,
   but the squire, seeking to have some private talk with him, detained
   him until all who were in the room had gone, when he asked him if he
   were the son of William Rolle. Then he rather unwillingly and with
   reluctance answered: Perchance I am'; since he feared that if he were
   recognized the plan on which his mind was set would be hindered. For
   this squire loved his father as a friend with warm affection. But
   Richard--newly made a hermit without his father's knowledge and against
   his wish--had taken this estate upon him because he loved God more than
   his earthly father.
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      LECTION IV.

   And when the aforesaid squire had examined him in private, and
   convinced himself by perfect evidence of the sanctity of his purpose,
   he, at his own expense, clad him according to his wish, with clothing
   suitable for a hermit; and kept him for a long time in his own house,
   giving him a place for his solitary abode and providing him with food
   and all the necessities of life. Then he began with all diligence, by
   day and night, to seek how to perfect his life, and to take every
   opportunity he could to advance in contemplative life and to be fervent
   in divine love. And to what excellent perfection he at length attained
   in this art of fervent love for God he himself records, not for
   boastfulness nor to seek vainglory, but rather after the example of the
   glorious and humble apostle Paul, who, narrating his rapture to the
   third heaven, where he heard secrets which are not lawful for a man to
   utter, also avows the greatness of the revelations made to him by God,
   and openly exalts his own labours above the labours of all the other
   apostles. All which things he wrote in his epistles for the profit and
   edification of others, and left them for others to read. So too this
   holy hermit, Richard, in chapter one of his first book of The Fire of
   Love, tells to what high and sweet delights he attained by
   contemplation, so that others may obtain hope of advancing likewise in
   acts of contemplation and of love for God, if only watchfully,
   constantly, and perseveringly they persist in those works which are
   ordained for the attainment of this most desirable state of perfection,
   and hate and cut off as poison all impediments to contemplation.
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      LECTION V.

   For in the aforesaid book he thus speaks: I marvelled more than I can
   say when I first felt my heart grow warm and burn, truly, not in
   imagination but as it were with sensible fire. I was indeed amazed at
   that flame which burst forth within me; and at this unwonted
   comfort--because of my inexperience of this abundance--I have often
   felt my breast to see if perchance this heat was due to some outward
   cause. But when I knew that this fire of love had blazed forth only
   from within, and was not of the flesh but a gift of my Maker, I was
   full of joy and dissolved in a desire for yet greater love; and chiefly
   because of the inflowing of this most sweet delight and internal
   sweetness which, with this spiritual burning, bedewed my mind to the
   core. For I had not thought before that such sweet heat and comfort
   might come to pass in this exile.

   See then by these words how far he had advanced in attaining the most
   sweet love of God; but, because there are many steps preparatory to the
   kindling of this love--as, for example, those things which diminish and
   remove the loves opposed to it--therefore this saint wore down the
   lusts of the flesh; to the love of which many are borne off by a mad
   and bestial impulse. He spurned the world too with its riches, being
   content with only the bare necessaries of life, that he might more
   freely enjoy the delights of true love. For these reasons, therefore,
   he mortified his flesh with many fasts, with frequent vigils, and
   repeated sobs and sighings, quitting all soft bedding, and having a
   hard bench for a bed, and for a house a small cell; fixing his mind
   always on heaven, and desiring to depart and be with Christ, his most
   sweet Beloved.
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      LECTION VI.

   Yet wonderful and beyond measure useful was the work of this saintly
   man in holy exhortations, whereby he converted many to God, and in his
   sweet writings, both treatises and little books composed for the
   edification of his neighbours, which all sound like sweetest music in
   the hearts of the devout. And amongst other things it seems worthy of
   great wonder that once, when he was seated in his cell (one day, after
   dinner) the lady of the house came to him, and many other persons with
   her, and found him writing very quickly. And they besought him to leave
   off writing and speak a word of edification to them, which he
   immediately did, exhorting them most eloquently to virtue and to
   renounce worldly vanities and stablish the love of God in their hearts.
   Yet in no way on account of this did he cease from writing for two
   hours without interruption, but continued to write as quickly as
   before, which could in no wise have been possible unless the Holy
   Spirit had at that time directed both his hand and tongue; especially
   as the occupations were discrepant one from another, and the spoken
   words differed utterly in meaning from those which he wrote. The saint
   also was sometimes so absorbed in spirit while he prayed that once,
   when his cloak with which he was clad was taken from him, he did not
   feel it; and when, after patching and stitching it, they replaced it on
   him he did not notice it.
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      LECTION VII.

   But the more laboriously and effectively this blessed hermit, Richard,
   studied to acquire perfect holiness of life, so much the more cunningly
   the devil--the enemy of the human race--sought to entangle him by
   deceitful snares. So, as appears from a writing in the saint's own hand
   found after his death in a small volume of his works, the devil, in the
   form of a certain woman, tried to subvert him with the cords of illicit
   desire. Thus in the aforesaid book he says: When I had perceived my
   especial vocation, and laying aside my worldly dress had determined to
   serve God rather than man, it befell that on a certain night in the
   beginning of my conversion there appeared to me, while resting on my
   bed, a very beautiful young woman, whom I had seen before and who loved
   me--in honourable love--not a little. And when I looked on her and was
   marvelling why she had come to me in solitude and at night, suddenly,
   without delay or speech, she placed herself beside me. When I felt
   this, fearing lest she should entice me to evil, I said I would arise
   and, with the sign of the cross, invoke the blessing of the Holy
   Trinity upon us. But she held me so strongly that I could neither speak
   nor move my hand. Whereupon I perceived that not a woman, but the devil
   in the form of a woman, was tempting me. So I turned me to God, and
   when I had said in my mind: "O Jesu, how precious is Thy blood!" and
   made the sign of the cross on my breast with my finger, which had now
   begun in some measure to be capable of movement, behold, suddenly all
   disappeared, and I gave thanks to God who had delivered me. From that
   time therefore I sought to love Jesus, and the more I advanced in His
   love the sweeter and more pleasant did the Name of Jesus savour to me;
   and even to this day it has not left me. Therefore blessed by the Name
   of Jesus for ever and ever. Amen.
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      LECTION VIII.

   Also this holy hermit, Richard, out of the abundance of his charity
   used to show himself very friendly to recluses and to those who were in
   need of spiritual consolation, and who suffered disquiet and vexation
   in soul or body through the malignant work of evil spirits. God granted
   him singular grace in helping those who were troubled in that way. And
   thus it once happened that when a certain lady was drawing nigh to
   death--in whose manor Richard had a cell (but a long way off from the
   family), where he was wont to live alone, and give himself to
   contemplation--a great multitude of horrible demons came to the room
   where the lady lay. It was little wonder, therefore, that when she saw
   them visibly she fell into great fear and trembling. Her attendants
   sprinkled holy water in the room and made devout prayers; nevertheless,
   the demons departed not, but still continued to vex her greatly. At
   length, by the wise and discreet advice of her friends, the blessed
   Richard was called to the room, so that, if possible, he might bring
   the said lady the aid of comfort and peace. And when he had come to her
   consolation, and had admonished her holily, and had urged her to place
   all her hope in the superabundant mercy of God and in His overflowing
   grace, he then set himself to pray God with a fervent heart that He
   would take from her the fearsome sight of the demons. And the Lord
   heard him instantly, and at the prayer of His beloved Richard was
   pleased to put all that terrible troop to flight. Yet as they fled they
   left behind them astounding traces of their passage; for all the
   bystanders saw that in that rush-strewn floor of the room where the
   demons had passed the rushes seemed to be burned and reduced to black
   ashes, and in these ashes there were marks impressed like the hoof
   prints of oxen.

   But when the demons had lost the prey which they had sought in that
   place, they tried to take vengeance on Richard, who had put them to
   flight. Accordingly, they went forthwith to his cell and disturbed him
   so much that for the time they made the place unfitted for his
   contemplation. But the saint of God, being stedfast in his faith, fled
   repeatedly for refuge to the sanctuary of prayer, and by his entreaties
   once more prevailed with the Lord to put them to flight. And, to the
   comfort of the aforesaid lady's friends, he told them that she was
   saved, and that after quitting this life she would be a joint-heir in
   the kingdom of heaven.

   After this the saint of God, Richard, betook himself to other parts,
   doubtless through the providence of God so that dwelling in many places
   he might benefit many unto salvation, and sometimes also that he might
   escape impediment to contemplation, as we read in the book of the Lives
   of the Fathers that many of the most holy fathers in the desert used to
   do. For frequent change of place does not always come from inconstancy;
   as in the accusation of certain who are given to quick and perverse
   judgment of their neighbours, but whose crooked interpretations and
   habits of detraction ought not to make a sensible person neglect those
   things which he has found by experience to be good and conducive to
   virtue. For in the canon and decrees of the Church many causes
   sometimes are assigned for which change of place may be made; of which
   the first is when pressure of persecution makes a place dangerous;
   secondly, when some local difficulties exist; and thirdly, when the
   saints are harassed by the society of evil men.

   When, therefore, this holy man, for urgent and most practical reasons
   had betaken himself to dwell in Richmondshire, it befell the Lady
   Margaret, who had once been a recluse at Auderby in the diocese of
   York, on the very day of the Lord's Supper was so overcome by a grave
   attack of illness that for thirteen days continuously she was utterly
   deprived of the power of speech. Moreover, it caused her such pains and
   prickings in her body that she could not rest in any position. Now a
   certain goodman of that town, knowing that the holy hermit Richard
   loved her with a perfect affection of charity--since he was wont to
   instruct her in the art of loving God, and to direct her, by his holy
   teaching, how to order her life--quickly hastened on horseback to the
   hermit, who was then living twelve miles from the dwelling of the
   recluse, and besought him to come to her with all speed and bring her
   consolation in her great need. And when he came to the recluse he found
   her unable to speak and troubled with very grievous pains. And as he
   sat by the window of her dwelling and they were eating together, it
   befell at the end of the meal that the recluse desired to sleep; and
   so, oppressed by sleep, she drooped her head at the window where
   Richard, the saint of God, reclined; and after she had slept thus for a
   short time, leaning slightly upon Richard, suddenly a violent
   convulsion seized her in her sleep with fearful vehemence, so that it
   seems as if she wished to break the window of her house. And being
   still in this most terrible convulsion, she awoke from sleep, and the
   power of speech being granted her, with great devotion she burst forth
   with these words: Gloria tibi Domine,' and blessed Richard finished the
   verse which she had begun, saying: Qui natus es de Virgine,' with the
   rest which follows in the compline hymn. Then he said to her: Now thy
   speech is restored to thee, use it as a woman whose speech is for
   good.'

   A little while after, when she was again eating at the aforesaid
   window, in exactly the same way as before, after dinner she fell
   asleep, and leaning upon the saint aforesaid, the same convulsions
   returned, and she became, as it were, mad, and was shaken by
   extraordinary and violent movements. But when the holy Richard was
   trying to hold her with his hands, lest she should rend herself or
   strive in any way to injure the house, she suddenly slipped from them,
   and in her fall was shaken out of sleep and thoroughly wakened. Then
   Richard said to her: Truly I thought that even if thou hadst been the
   devil I should still have held thee; nevertheless, I give thee this
   word of comfort, that as long as I shall remain in this mortal life
   thou shalt never again suffer the torment of this illness.'

   None the less, when the courses of several years had passed, the same
   illness--except that she had her tongue free for speech--returned to
   her. Therefore the recluse sent for the goodman aforesaid, and asked
   him to hasten quickly on horseback to the house of the nuns at
   Hampole--which place was far distant from her own dwelling--where the
   said Richard at that time led a solitary life, and to see what had
   befallen him. For she doubted not that he had passed from this world,
   because she knew that he was faithful to his promise; and he had
   promised her that as long as he lived in the flesh she should never
   again suffer such torment. So the said man came to Hampole, and he
   learnt that the saint was dead to this world; and after diligently
   inquiring the hour of his passing, he found that the aforesaid illness
   had returned to the recluse shortly after the hour of Richard's
   departure. But afterwards the recluse betook herself to Hampole where
   the holy body of the said hermit was given burial; and never afterwards
   was she afflicted with the suffering of this horrible illness.
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      LECTION IX.

   But yet, lest it should lie hidden from men--especially from those who
   by devout and diligent study are instant towards the attainment of the
   perfect life--how and by what means that blessed zealot of God, the
   hermit Richard, reached the stage of perfect love and charity, as far
   as is allowed in mortal life, so that all other love became mean and
   worthless for him and begat a dreadful horror: be it known, therefore,
   that he himself, in his first book concerning the Fire of Love, chapter
   thirteen, speaks thus: In process of time,' he says, great increase of
   spiritual joys was given me. For there passed three years--all but
   three or four months--from the beginning of the change of my life and
   mind to the opening of the heavenly door, so that, with unveiled face,
   through the eyes of the heart, the soul might contemplate the heavenly
   beings, and see by what way to seek her Beloved and pant after Him.
   Then, the door remaining open, nearly a year passed before the heat of
   eternal love was verily felt in my heart. I was sitting, forsooth, in a
   certain chapel, and, while I was finding great delight in the sweetness
   of prayer or meditation, suddenly I felt within me an unwonted and
   pleasant heat. And though at first I wavered, doubting for a long time
   whence it might be, I became convinced that it was not from the
   creature but from the Creator, because I found it grow more warm and
   pleasant. But when half a year, three months and some weeks had passed
   by--during which that warmth of surpassing sweetness continued with
   me--there was borne in on my perception a heavenly spiritual sound,
   which pertains to the song of everlasting praise and the sweetness of
   the invisible melody. Invisible I call it because it can be neither
   known nor heard except by him to whom it is vouchsafed; and he must
   first be purified and separated from the world. For while I was sitting
   in the same chapel, and chanting psalms at night before supper, as I
   could, I heard as it were the tinkling music of stringed instruments,
   or rather of singers, over my head. And while my whole heart and all my
   desires were engrossed in prayer and heavenly things, suddenly, I know
   not how, I felt within a symphony of song, and I overheard a most
   delightful heavenly harmony, which remained in my mind. For
   straightway, while I meditated, my thought was turned into melody of
   song, and for meditation I, as it were, sang songs. And that music
   voiced itself even in my prayers and psalmody; and by reason of the
   interior sweetness which was outpoured upon me, I was impelled to sing
   what before I had only said. Not publicly, forsooth, for I did it only
   before God the Creator. Those who saw me knew it not, lest if they had
   known they might have honoured me above measure; and thus I might have
   lost part of that most fair flower, and might have fallen into
   desolation.

   Meanwhile wonder seized me that I had been chosen for such great joy
   while I was in exile, because God had then given me gifts which I knew
   not to ask, nor thought that even the most holy could receive such in
   this life. Therefore I trow that these are not given for merit, but
   freely, to whomsoever Christ will. Nevertheless I think no man shall
   receive them, unless he especially love the Name of Jesus and honour it
   so greatly that he never lets It from his mind except in sleep. He to
   whom it is given to do this may, I think, attain that also.

   Whence, from the beginning of my conversion even to the highest degree
   of the love of Christ to which, by the gift of God, I was able to
   reach--and in which state I proclaimed the praise of God with joyous
   songs--I remained for four years and about three months. For this
   state, when once the previous states are conformed to it, remains unto
   the end; nay, it will be more perfect after death, because here the joy
   of love and charity begins and in the heavenly kingdom shall receive
   its glorious consummation.'
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   The following prayers are from the Mass for the Saint.

      SECRET

   O Lord, we beseech thee that these our oblations may, through the holy
   intercession of the blessed hermit, Richard, be accepted by Thee; that
   by their virtue we may be protected from all dangers, and may be
   strengthened in the love of Thy Name ever more and more. Through our
   Lord.

      POSTCOMMUNION

   We beseech Thee, Almighty God, that by the prayers of the blessed
   hermit, Richard, we, Thy servants, refreshed by the sacrifice of the
   Body and Blood of Thy Son Jesu Christ, may ever receive that most
   precious food to our salvation; and so be inwardly nourished by the
   most sweet charity and peace which that sacrifice represents. Through
   the same our Lord.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [15] From The York Breviary, vol ii., Appendix v. Pub. by Surtees Soc.
   1882.
     __________________________________________________________________

HERE BEGIN THE MIRACLES OF THE BLESSED HERMIT RICHARD.

   To be read during the Octave of the Feast

   (The following extracts are from the Sunday Lesson.)
     __________________________________________________________________

      LECTION I

   But after the passing of this saint, Richard, so dearly beloved by God,
   God did not desist from showing forth to men his sanctity and glory by
   wonderful miracles. For example, in a town near to the dwelling of the
   nuns of Hampole there was a certain householder called Roger, who on
   the night of the Feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, Mother of
   God, and on the two following nights, in his dreams saw the blessed
   hermit Richard come to him, and he conversed with him about many
   things. Afterwards, for six nights together, he appeared to him when he
   was wide awake, and taught him plainly about many secret things, and
   inflamed him with the love of God and with a spirit of holy devotion.
   Therefore he made up his mind that he would at once honour the saint
   with grateful acts of reverence; and he believed that he could please
   him especially by bringing stones, with his own labour and that of his
   beasts, to build his tomb in the church of the nuns of Hampole, where
   now his body is buried.
     __________________________________________________________________

      LECTION II

   One day, therefore, while he was occupied with the aforesaid work of
   piety, and had got ready twelve oxen for drawing, it happened that when
   he had reached the gate of the churchyard at Hampole carrying great
   stones, his poor beasts by an unhappy accident turned aside from the
   path, and the cart collided with the side-post of the gate and cast the
   said stones with great force upon Roger himself. Yet he was in no wise
   hurt by this, nor felt any shaking or pain of body; and though his foot
   was very tightly jammed by the stones, he was able to get it out
   without injury to foot or leg. And, indeed, that this miracle should
   not be forgotten, one of those stones was set up at the gate of the
   churchyard, so that those coming that way might see it; and another is
   placed on the tomb of the saint.

   Thus, as long as he lived, this saintly man was wholly on fire with
   divine love, seeking nothing except that he might please Jesus Christ,
   his most sweet Beloved; and any who would offer him faithful service,
   and by devout prayers make him his mediator and intercessor with the
   same Jesus Christ, has a most powerful argument from this history. And
   if he be not in himself an obstacle, he will obtain his wholesome
   purpose.
     __________________________________________________________________

      LECTION IV

   A certain woman called Joan being vexed with demons lost the use of
   speech, and her bodily strength was so reduced and exhausted that every
   one that saw her thought she must die. But one day the blessed Virgin
   Mary, Mother of God, appeared to her in most beautiful white garments,
   drawing near to her and leading the blessed hermit Richard by the hand.
   And he, seeing the demons cruelly vexing the woman, placed himself
   between them and her and made them depart. Then the blessed Richard put
   a ring on the woman's finger as a token of the miracle and his saving
   help. When he had done this, at once the woman ceased to feel the
   vexation of the demons; and recovered the use of her speech and was
   healed of all her infirmities.
     __________________________________________________________________

  ALL THE MIRACLES OF RICHARD:

   Preserved Roger from accident while engaged in building the saint's
   tomb.

   John: wounded by an enemy, is raised from apparent death by prayer and
   the placing of money on his body, as an offering to the saint.

   Joan: Demoniac: cured by intervention of B.V.M. and the saint, who
   places a ring on her finger.

   Woman: the saint appears to a paralyzed woman and restores her, bidding
   her tell her neighbours.

   Thomas: bedridden: hearing in the night a voice bidding him to send a
   candle of 1 1/2 lbs. to be burnt before the image of the B.V.M. at
   Hampole, Thomas does so by his wife and family; and being alone in the
   house the saint appears to him and, asking where the pain is, touches
   the spot and heals him.

   Son of Isabella: boy drowned by falling into a well. A passing pilgrim
   tells them to visit the hermit's tomb at Hampole. They do so, and pay a
   denarius at the tomb and the child is restored to life.

   Hugh: falls into a well; is revived by his mother's vow to offer a
   candle of the length of her dead son at the saint's tomb.

   William: bitten by a snake and thought to be dead; but restored by a
   vow to make a pilgrimage to the saint's tomb. This miracle is confirmed
   on oath.

   John: Crippled in arms and legs: restored by promise of yearly
   pilgrimage to the saint's tomb.

   Isabella: deaf for seven years: cured by praying at the saint's tomb.

   Beatrice: dumb for six days: cured by praying at the tomb.

   Julia: demoniac and dumb for twelve days: falls asleep at the saint's
   tomb, and Richard and the B.V.M. appear in a vision and tell her to ask
   the priest to whom she will confess her sins, and she will be healed in
   mind and body. She narrates that the brightness of the vision nearly
   blinded her.

   John: deaf for ten years; cured by praying at the saint's tomb.

   Woman: also deaf; cured at the saint's tomb.

   Alice: dumb from S. Katherine's Day to Easter: cured by praying at the
   saint's tomb.

   John: insane: led to the tomb by his friends and there cured.

   Agnes: insane for three months. Her friends offer a wax candle,
   measured to her height, at the saint's tomb, and she is immediately
   restored to her senses.

   Isabella: blind of one eye for twenty years: makes a pilgrimage to the
   tomb and is cured.

   Agnes: deaf for three years: restored at the tomb.

   Robert: totally blind for three years: hears a voice bidding him go to
   the hermit's tomb, and, obeying, is cured.

   Boy of 5: choked by an apple for three days and thought to be dead:
   revived by a denarius placed on his head as an offering to the saint.

   Boy of 4: bad ulcer in the child's mouth prevented his feeding. By wise
   counsel a denarius is laid upon his head, and the ulcer vanishes and
   the child can suck.

   Joan: fell into a mill pool: rescued after an hour, and revived by
   prayer and being measured for a candle.

   Woman: deaf for two years: makes a pilgrimage to the saint's tomb and
   is cured on the spot.

   John: deaf for a long time: is cured by the merits and prayers of the
   saint.

   Woman: her child is still-born and she is thought to be dead: restored
   by being measured for a candle to the saint.

   Isabella: the child falls asleep upon a heap of straw and is smothered
   by it. When found is thought to be dead, but restored to life on being
   measured for a candle.
     __________________________________________________________________

THE FIRE OF LOVE OR MELODY OF LOVE, AS TRANSLATED BY RICHARD MISYN IN 1435 A.D.
FROM THE INCENDIUM AMORIS' BY RICHARD ROLLE OF HAMPOLE: AND NOW DONE INTO MODERN
                                    ENGLISH
     __________________________________________________________________

PROLOGUE OF RICHARD MISYN

   For the honour of our Lord Jesu Christ, at the asking of thy desire,
   Sister Margaret, coveting [16] to make satisfaction, and for increase
   also of ghostly comfort, to thee and more, that understand not
   curiosity [17] of Latin, I, among lettered men simplest and in living
   unthriftiest, have taken this work to translate from Latin into English
   for the edification of many souls. And since it is so that all good
   pleasure and ghostly life of man's soul stands in perfect love,
   therefore this holy man, Richard Hampole, has named his book Incendium
   Amoris, that is to say "The Fire of Love." The which book I think to
   change neither in meaning nor substance, but truly to write it in good
   exposition after mine understanding.

   Therefore I pray all readers hereof, if your discretion find aught
   thankworthy, to God give the praise thereof and to this holy man; and
   if any thing be mis-said, to my ignorance ascribe it. Nevertheless I
   make protestation to reform, with intent to write or say nothing
   against the faith or determination of holy kirk, God being witness.

   Furthermore, sister, have in mind the mortality of this life, and
   always in thy hand some holy lesson keep. For if thou keepest holiness
   thou shalt not love fleshly sins; and holiness, wherein it stands, I
   said before, in perfect love.

   But perfect love, what may that be? Certain, when thy God, as thou
   oughtest, for Himself thou lovest; thy friend in God; and thine enemy
   thou lovest for God. For neither God without thy neighbour, nor thy
   neighbour without God, is truly loved. Perfect love therefore stands in
   love of God and of thy neighbour; and love of God in keeping of His
   commandments.

   Keep, therefore, His commandments, and when thou enterest thy prayers
   or contemplation, all worldly things altogether forsake; forget the
   care of all outward things, and to God only take heed. If thou find any
   doubts call to thee sad [18] counsel, for dread thou arrest; especially
   in such things as touch the twelve articles of thy faith; also of the
   Holy Trinity, and divers others as in this holy book following is
   wisely written to our learning.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [16] desiring

   [17] skill

   [18] serious or wise.
     __________________________________________________________________

    PROLOGUE OF RICHARD ROLLE

   More have I marvelled than I showed when, forsooth, I first felt my
   heart wax warm, truly, and not in imagination, but as if it were burned
   with sensible fire. I was forsooth amazed as the burning in my soul
   burst up, and of an unwont solace; ofttimes, because of my ignorance of
   such healthful abundance, I have groped my breast seeking whether this
   burning were from any bodily cause outwardly. But when I knew that it
   was only kindled inwardly from a ghostly cause, and that this burning
   was nought of fleshly love or concupiscence, in this I conceived it was
   the gift of my Maker. Gladly therefore I am molten into the desire of
   greater delight and ghostly sweetness; the which, with that ghostly
   flame, has pithily [19] comforted my mind.

   First truly before this comfortable heat, and sweetest in all devotion,
   was shed in me, I plainly trowed such heat could happen to no man in
   this exile: for truly so it enflames the soul as if the element of fire
   were burning there. Nevertheless, as some say, there are some, burning
   in the love of Christ, because they see them despising this world, and
   with busyness given only to the service of God. But as it were if thy
   finger were put into the fire it should be clad with sensible burning,
   so, as beforesaid, the soul set afire with love, truly feels most very
   heat; but sometimes more and more intense, and sometimes less, as the
   frailty of the flesh suffers.

   O who is there in mortal body that all this life may suffer this great
   heat in its high degree, or may bear for long its continual existence?
   Truly it behoves him fail for sweetness and greatness of desire after
   so high an outward love; and no marvel though many, passing out of this
   world, full greedily would catch it and yearn after it with full hot
   desire; so that unto this honey-sweet flame with wonderful gifts of
   mind he might yield his soul, and so be taken, and forthwith enter the
   companies of them that sing praises to their Creator withouten end.

   But some things happen contrary to charity; for filth of the flesh
   creeps up tempting restful minds; bodily need also and the frail
   affections of man, imprinted with the anguish of this wretched exile,
   sometimes lessen this heat, and the flame which under a figure I called
   fire, because it burns and lightens, they hinder and heavy. [20] And
   yet truly they take not fully away that which may not be taken away,
   for it has umbelapped [21] all my heart. But this most happy heat,
   sometimes absent on account of such things, appears again; and I, as it
   were abiding grievously cold, think myself desolate until the time it
   come again, whiles I have not, as I was wont, that feeling of ghostly
   fire which applies itself gladly to all parts of the body and soul, and
   in the which they know themselves secure.

   And, moreover, sleep gainstands me as an enemy; for no time heavies me
   to lose save that in which, constrained, I yield to sleeping. Waking
   truly I am busy to warm my soul, thirled [22] as it were with cold, the
   which, when settled in devotion, I know well is set on fire, and with
   full great desire is lifted above all earthly things.

   Truly affluence of this everlasting love comes not to me in idleness,
   nor might I feel this ghostly heat while I was weary bodily for travel,
   or truly unmannerly [23] occupied with worldly mirth, or else given
   without measure to disputation; but I have felt myself truly in such
   things wax cold, until, putting aback all things in which I might
   outwardly be occupied, I have striven to be only in the sight of my
   Saviour and to dwell in full inward burning.

   Wherefore I offer this book to be seen: not to philosophers nor wise
   men of this world, nor to great divines lapped in infinite questions,
   but unto the boisterous [24] and untaught, more busy to learn to love
   God than to know many things; for truly not disputing but working is to
   be known and loved. For I trow these things here contained may not be
   understood of these questionaries; in all science most high in wisdom
   but in the love of God most low.

   Therefore to them I have not written, except, all things forgetting and
   putting aback that are longing to this world, they love to be given
   only to the desires of our Maker. First truly they must flee all
   earthly dignity, and hate all pride of knowledge and vainglory, and at
   the last, conforming themselves to highest poverty, meditating and
   praying, they be constantly given to the love of God.

   Thus no marvel the fire within of unwrought charity shall appear to
   them; and dressing their hearts to receive the heat with which all
   darkness is consumed, it will lift them up into that most lovely and
   merry burning, so that they shall pass temporal things and hold for
   themselves the seat of endless rest. The more knowledge they have,
   truly the more they are able to love rightly, if they be glad to be
   despised of others, and gladly despise themselves.

   And since I here stir all manner of folk to love, and am busy to show
   the hottest and supernatural desire of love, this book shall bear the
   name: "Burning of Love."
     __________________________________________________________________

   [19] to the core

   [20] grieve

   [21] enwrapped

   [22] pierced

   [23] immoderately

   [24] ignorant or simple
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

                                THE FIRE OF LOVE
     __________________________________________________________________

BOOK I
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER I

   OF MAN'S TURNING TO GOD; AND WHAT HELPS AND WHAT LETS HIS TURNING.

   Be it known to all manner of people in this wretched dwelling place of
   exile abiding, that no man may be imbued with love of endless life, nor
   be anointed with heavenly sweetness, unless he truly be turned to God.
   It behoves truly he be turned to Him, and from all earthly things be
   altogether turned in mind, before he may be expert in the sweetness of
   God's love, even in little things. Soothly by ordinate love is this
   turning done; so that he loves that that is worthy to be loved, and
   loves not that that is not worthy to be loved; and that he burn more in
   love of those things that are most worthy, and less in them that are
   less worthy.

   Most is God for to be loved: mickle are heavenly things for to be
   loved: little, or nought but for need, are earthly things to be loved.
   Withouten doubt thus every man is turned to Christ whiles nought is
   desired by him but only Christ.

   Truly turning from these goods that in this world deceive their lovers
   and defend them nought, stands in want of fleshly desire, and hatred of
   all wickedness; so that they savour not earthly things, nor desire to
   hold to worldly things beyond their strait need. For they truly that
   heap riches and know not for whom they gather, having their solace in
   them, are not worthy to be sometimes gladdened in the mirth of heavenly
   love; although they seem by devotion, not holy but simulated, to feel
   in their dis-eases something of that felicity which is to come. For
   truly for their foul presumption they have fallen from that sweetness
   with which God's lovers are softened and made sweet because they have
   unmannerly loved worldly money. All love truly that ends not in God is
   sinful and makes the havers evil. Wherefore, loving worldly excellence,
   they are set on fire with sinful love, and they are further from
   heavenly heat than is the space betwixt the highest heaven and the
   lowest place of the earth.

   They sicker are made like to that love because they are conformed to
   wanton concupiscence; and holding to old manners of wickedness, they
   love the vanity of this life before holy love. Wherefore they change
   the joy of incorruptible clearness to wantoned beauty that shall not
   last. This soothly would they not do unless they were blinded with the
   fire of froward love, the which wastes the burgeoning of virtue and
   nourishes the plants of all vice. Forsooth many are not set on womanly
   beauty nor like lechery, wherefore they trust themselves saved, as it
   were with sickerness; and because of chastity only, which they bear
   outwardly, they ween they surpass all others as saints. But wickedly
   they thus suppose and all in vain, when covetousness, the root of sins,
   is not drawn out. And truly, as it is written, nothing is worse than to
   love money. For whiles the love of temporal things occupies the heart
   of any man, it altogether suffers him to have no devotion. Truly the
   love of God and of this world may never be together in one soul, but
   whichever love is stronger puts out the other that thus it may openly
   be known who is this world's lover and who Christ's follower. (For the
   heat of love breaks out in works which are seen.) Certainly as Christ's
   lovers behave themselves towards the world, and the flesh, so lovers of
   the world behave themselves towards God and their own souls.

   They truly that are chosen, eat and drink but ever with all their mind
   to God they take entent, and in all earthly things not lust, but need
   they only seek. Of earthly things they speak with anguish and nought
   but passingly, nor in them making tarrying; and then in mind they are
   yet with God; and the remainder of time they yield to God's service;
   not standing in idleness nor running to plays nor wonders--that is the
   token of the rejected--but rather behaving themselves honestly, they
   irk not either to speak or do or think those things that long to God.

   The rejected truly alway behave themselves idly towards God; they hear
   God's word with hardness, they pray without affection, they think of
   God without sweetness. They enter the kirk and fill the walls; they
   knock their breast and yield sighs, but plainly but feigned, for why
   they come to the eyes of men, not to the ears of God. For when they are
   in kirk in body, in mind they are distracted to worldly goods, which
   they have or else desire to have, wherefore their heart is far from
   God. They eat and drink not to their need but to their lust, for but in
   lecherous food find they savour or sweetness. They give moreover bread
   to the poor, clothing peradventure to the cold; but whiles their alms
   is done in deadly sin, or for vainglory, or sickerly of things untruly
   gotten, no marvel if they please not our Gainbuyer, [25] but unto
   vengeance provoke our Judge.

   Wherefore, as the chosen, whiles they take heed to the world or the
   flesh, alway have their mind busily to God; so the rejected, whiles
   they seem to do God service are busy with the world, and to those
   things that pertain to the world and the flesh they are greatly
   ravished in busyness of heart. And as the chosen displease God nought
   when they relieve their need, so the rejected please not God in the
   good deeds they are seen to do; for their full few good deeds are
   mingled with many ill deeds.

   The fiend has many also which we trow be good. He has forsooth alms
   givers, the chaste, and meek--that is to say sinners calling themselves
   so--clad with hair and punished by penance. Truly under weening of
   health ofttimes deadly wounds are hid.

   The fiend has also not a few hasty to work and busy to preach; but
   doubtless all those want to him that are warmed in charity (and who are
   always eager to love God) and slow to all vanity. The wicked truly are
   alway greedy after vile delectations, and as dead unto ghostly
   exercises; or else cast down with full great feebleness: whose love is
   ever inordinate; for they love temporal goods more than eternal, and
   their bodies more than their souls.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [25] Redeemer
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER II

   THAT NO MAN MAY SUDDENLY COME TO HIGH DEVOTION, NOR BE WET WITH THE
   SWEETNESS OF CONTEMPLATION

   Truly it is shown to lovers that, in the first years of their turning,
   no man may attain to high devotion, nor be fully moistened with
   sweetness of contemplation. Scarcely truly and seldom, and as it were
   in the twinkling of an eye, are they granted to feel somewhat of
   heavenly things; and profiting little by little at the last they are
   made strong in spirit. Then afterward they have received sadness of
   manners, and so far as this present changeableness suffers, have
   attained to stability of mind; for with great travails is some
   perfection gotten, that they may feel some joy in godly love.

   Nevertheless it is not seen that all, though they be great in virtue,
   anon feel verily the actual warmth of uncreate or unwrought charity,
   nor melting in the unmeasured flame of love, may sing within themselves
   the song of God's praise. This mystery from many truly is hidden, and
   to a most special few it is shown; for the higher this degree is, the
   fewer finders has it in this world.

   No marvel that we seldom find any saint, nor one so perfect in this
   life and rapt with so high love, that in contemplation he might be lift
   up to sweetness of melody; that is to say, that he might receive into
   himself the heavenly sound shed into him, and as it were with melody he
   should yield it again in praise to God, making many notes in ghostly
   praising; and that he might feel in himself the heat of God's love. And
   nevertheless it is marvellous that any contemplative man should be
   trowed otherwise; for the psalmist, transformed into the person of
   contemplative man, says: 'Transibo in domum Dei in voce exultationis et
   confessionis,' that is to say: I shall go into God's house in the voice
   of gladness and shrift'; which praise is the sound of him that feasts,
   that is to say, of him that is glad with heavenly sweetness.

   The perfect, forsooth, that are taken up into this surpassing plenty of
   endless friendship, and imbued with sweetness that shall not waste,
   live anew in the clear chalice of full sweet charity; and in the holy
   counsel of mirth they draw into their souls happy heat, by the which
   greatly gladdened, they have greater comfort of ghostly lectuary than
   may be trowed. This refreshment is the height of endless heritage in
   them who truly love, and to whom, in this exile forsooth, diseases
   happen and in the meanwhile it shall not appear unprofitable to them
   that they be punished for some years, the which shall be lift up to
   sit, without parting, in heavenly seats. Of all flesh also are they
   chosen to be most dear in the sight of our Maker, and to be clearly
   crowned. As the seraphim in high heaven truly are they burnt, who sit
   in solitude of body, yet their minds walk among the angels to Christ
   their Beloved, whom they have desired: the which also most sweetly have
   sung this prayer of endless love, in Jesu joying.


   O honey sweet heat, than all delight sweeter, than all riches more
   delectable.

   O my God! O my Love! into me glide; with Thy charity thirled; with Thy
   beauty wounded:

   Slide down and comfort me, heavy; give medicine to me, wretched; show
   Thyself to Thy lover.

   Behold in Thee is all my desire, and all my heart seeks.

   After Thee my heart desires; after Thee my flesh thirsts.

   And Thou openest not to me but turnest Thy Face.

   Thou sparrest Thy door, and hidest Thyself; and at the pains of the
   innocent Thou laughest.

   In the meantime nevertheless Thou ravishest Thy lovers from all earthly
   things; above all desire of worldly things Thou takest them, and makest
   them takers of Thy love and full great workers in loving. Wherefore in
   ghostly song, of burning up bursting, to Thee they offer praises, and
   with sweetness they feel the dart of love.

   Hail therefore O lovely Everlasting Love, that raisest us from these
   low things and presentest us with so frequent ravishings to the sight
   of God's Majesty. Come into me, my Beloved! All that I had I gave for
   Thee, and that I should have, for Thee I have forsaken, that Thou in my
   soul mightest have a mansion for to comfort it. Never forsake Thou him
   that Thou feelest so sweetly glow with desire for Thee; so that with
   most burning desire I desire, to be ever within Thy halsing. [26] So
   grant me grace to love Thee, and in Thee to rest, that in Thy kingdom I
   may be worthy for to see Thee withouten end.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [26] embrace
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER III

   THAT ILK [27] MAN CHOSEN OF GOD HAS HIS STATE ORDAINED

   Contemplative men that are highly burnt with the love of everlasting
   life are forsooth highest in this most lovely burning, and most beloved
   of the Lover Everlasting; so that they seldom or never go out to
   worldly business, nor yet receive the dignity of prelacy nor honours;
   but rather, certainly, withholding themselves within themselves, with
   joy and in song of praise they alway in mind ascend to Christ. Truly in
   this the kirk follows the hierarchy of angels, in the which the highest
   angels are not sent outward, being evermore near to God. They that are
   high in Christ's love and contemplation are so busy in the sight of God
   alone, that they take not sovereignty among men; but it is kept for
   others, that are more occupied with the business of man, and enjoy less
   of inward delight.

   Therefore irk one chosen has his degree ordained before of God; so that
   whiles this one is chosen to prelacy, this other is busy to take heed
   to God within, and God within uplifts him thereto, so that he leaves
   all outward occupations. Soothly such are most holy and yet of men are
   held lowest, because they only dwell in mind for they seldom go outward
   to do miracles.

   Others truly both submit themselves to God's service and discreetly
   govern their subjects.

   Others also that live in fleshly penance, unseen in the sight of men,
   are ofttimes in their lives granted or shown tokens; or else after
   their death, although they be full sharply punished some while in
   purgatory.

   Truly all saints have not done miracles, either in their life or after
   their death; nor all damned have lacked miracles, either in their life
   or after their death. The doom truly of God is privy, lest, by seen
   tokens of sinners, evil should be made worse, and they that are good,
   despising those things that may be had in common by good and ill,
   should be more quick in the love of their Maker.

   Some forsooth have wrought good deeds, but not God's but man's honour
   have they sought; and this perishes after their death, only having what
   they have desired in this world. Truly ofttimes it happens that the
   meanly good and less perfect, have done miracles; also full many of
   those high in devotion are placed in heavenly seats, and altogether
   rest before the Majesty of God, having their meed among the high
   companies of heaven. For the feast of Saint Michael is specially
   honoured, and yet he is not trowed of the highest order of angels.

   Some also, turned to God and doing penance, and forsaking worldly
   errands, joy in mind if, after death, their name may be honoured among
   the living; to the which Christ's true servant should take no heed, as
   peradventure he may lose all that he works for.

   Those things truly that are common to good and ill, are not to be
   desired by saints; but charity and ghostly virtues should be fastened
   without ceasing in their hearts; the which not only keep the soul from
   filth of sins, but in the doom shall raise the body also to endless
   memory.

   All things that are done here soon cease and flee. There truly, either
   in honour or confession, they shall last withouten end. The active
   therefore and prelates, eminent in cunning and virtue, should set
   contemplative men before themselves, and hold them their betters before
   God; not trowing themselves worthy to be given to contemplation, unless
   peradventure God's grace to that should inspire them.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [27] each
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER IV

   THE DIFFERENCE BETWIXT GOD'S LOVERS AND THE WORLD'S: AND THEIR MEEDS

   The soul of man feels nothing of the burning of endless love the which
   has not first perfectly forsaken all worldly vanity, studying busily to
   be given to heavenly things, and to desire God's love without ceasing,
   and mannerly to love all creatures to be loved. Truly if all things
   that we love, we love for God, rather God in them, than them we love;
   and so not in them but in God we delight, whom to enjoy withouten end
   we shall be glad.

   The wicked truly love this world, setting therein the lust of their
   delectation; and those things only that belong to this world's joy,
   withouten ceasing they covet. And how may a man do more fondly, more
   wretchedly, or damnably than fully to love, for themselves only,
   transitory and failing things.

   The Trinite God truly is to be loved for Himself only. Put we therefore
   our mind fully into it, and be we busy to bear all our thoughts unto
   that end, that withouten end we may be gladdened by it; so that
   ourselves and all things that we love, we love for that alone.

   But that sinner lies that says he loves God and yet dreads not to serve
   sin. Ilk man truly that loves God is free, nor binds himself to bondage
   of sin, but steadfastly continues in the service of righteousness.
   Whiles we love earthly things or comfort for themselves, withouten
   doubt we love not God, serving Him not forsooth; but if we be delighted
   in creatures, so that we set our Maker behind, and care not to follow
   those things that are eternal, we shall be deemed as hating God. Full
   froward truly is it to the soul, and the token of damnation and of
   endless death, when a man gives himself wholly unto this world; and in
   divers desires and errors of the flesh, he goes as him lists. Thus no
   marvel a wretch is destroyed; and, while he seems to flow in pleasure,
   he hies to the ay-lasting penance of hell.

   Therefore no man should dare presume, nor rise himself up by pride when
   he is despised to his reproach, or when insults are cast him; nor
   defend himself, nor for ill words give ill again; but all things,
   praise as well as reproof, bear evenly. Truly, doing in this wise, we
   shall withouten end with Christ be glad, if in this life we love Him
   without ceasing. Whose love, rooted in our hearts and made sicker,
   makes us like unto His likeness; and other joy, that is to say godly,
   He puts into us; mirthing our minds wholly with burning love. His love
   truly is fire, making our souls fiery and purging them from all degrees
   of sin, making them light and burning; which fire, burning in them that
   are chosen, ever makes them look up in mind, and continually to hold to
   the desire for death.

   Wherefore, whiles we can sin, let us charge ourselves to flee this
   world's prosperity, and to bear adversity gladly. Forsooth an evil mind
   while it joys is lost, and while it seeks gladness in creatures it, as
   it were with a flattering venom, kills the self; whose contagion let us
   be well aware to eschew, beholding the ghostly food that is ordained in
   heaven for burning lovers.

   And so, Christ granting, be we comforted by sweet songs of charity and
   be we delighted in so sweet devotion; while the wicked sleep in
   horrible darkness, and full of sins, go down to pains.

   Full great marvel it seems that mortal man may be taken up into such
   high love for God that he feels nothing but heavenly solace in his most
   privy substance; and so as, in the noise of an organ, he ascends on
   high to contemplate high desire. That which is done by others to sorrow
   then turns to joy, so that they seem unable to suffer pain in soul;
   also they can not be troubled with the dread of death, nor in any way
   be moved from restfulness to unease.

   Truly he who is stirred with busy love, and is continually with Jesu in
   thought, full soon perceives his own faults, the which correcting,
   henceforward he is ware of them; and so he brings righteousness busily
   to birth, until he is led to God and may sit with heavenly citizens in
   everlasting seats. Therefore he stands clear in conscience and is
   steadfast in all good ways the which is never noyed with worldly
   heaviness nor gladdened with vainglory.

   Truly those obstinate in unclean works know not the love of Christ, for
   they are burned with fleshly likings; and they yield no devotion to God
   because of the burden of riches by the which they are thrust to the
   earth. They are not, forsooth, ordained to have the delights of
   paradise, but go on in their frowardness unto their death; and
   therefore, worthily, their heaviness shall not be lessened, nor shall
   the sorrow of their damnation be put aback; because they wilfully walk
   in lusts and sin, and have frowardly, for false love, lost the love of
   the Endless Lover. Wherefore in perpetual pains they shall plainly
   repent that they have sinned; and yet they shall never be cleansed from
   sin, but be burned endlessly by continued fires withouten any
   comforter.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER V

   WHEREFORE IT IS BETTER TO TAKE ENTENT TO THE LOVE OF GOD THAN TO
   KNOWLEDGE OR DISPUTATION

   In all things that we work or think be we more taking heed to the love
   of God than to knowledge or disputation. Love truly delights the soul
   and makes conscience sweet, drawing it from love of lusty things here
   beneath, and from desire of man's own excellence. Knowledge without
   charity builds not to endless health but puffs up to most wretched
   undoing.

   Be our souls therefore strong in the taking of hard labours for God;
   and be they wise with heavenly, not worldly, savour. May they desire to
   be lightened with endless wisdom, and to be inflamed by that fire with
   which some are stirred to love and desire our Maker only, and mightily
   are made strong to the despising of all transitory things. Not counting
   their greatest solace in these things that abide not, for they here
   have no dwelling, but without ceasing they seek the heavenly place not
   made with hands, and cry: Mihi vivere Christus est, et mori lucrum.
   Christ to me is life, and great winning to die.'

   He forsooth truly loves God that consents to no wicked likings.
   Certainly man is far from Christ's love in as mickle as he delights
   himself in worldly things. Wherefore if thou love God thy work shows
   that; for he is never proved to love God whiles he is made to consent
   to wicked desires.

   Therefore to all that are in this exile this I dare show: that all they
   that will not love the Maker of all things shall be cast into endless
   darkness; and there shall they that would not here be lightened with
   the love of their Gainbuyer feel the burning withouten end of the fire
   of hell. They shall be sundered from the company of singers, in charity
   with their Maker; and busily shall they sorrow cast out from the mirth
   of those singing in Jesu, wanting in the clearness and the joy of them
   that shall be crowned. For liever had they tarry a little while in
   worldly softness than suffer penance that their sins might be cleansed,
   and they might come full of piety before the Defender of all good.

   Truly, in this vale of weeping, they have been delighted in the
   slippery way and the broad; where is no place of gladness but of
   labour, wherefore in torments withouten release they shall sorrow: when
   the poor, which were arrayed with virtues, shall be born to everlasting
   peace and be made glad in the delight of full truly seeing the
   Life-giving Godhead. And in ghostly heat they have happily flourished,
   although they have taken no solace in the worthy height of this world,
   nor have sown pride among foolish wise men; but they have borne griefs
   from wicked men, and have excluded temptations from the soul that they
   might be holden in peace at the throne of the Trinity. And they have
   truly voided old unthriftiness of venomous life, clearly and most
   gladly praising ghostly beauty; and plays of softness, which youth
   accepts and unwise worldly men desire, they have deems worthy reproof,
   thinking with continuance of the song full of charity ascending to our
   Maker.

   For which thing the receivers of the joy of love, conceiving heat that
   may not be consumed, join together in song of clear chorus; and in
   lovely harmony and friendly mirth have they set a heavenly shadow
   against all heat of lechery and filth. Wherefore in this burning of
   sweetest love they are taken up to the beholding of their Beloved, and
   by means of this most happy flame they are flourishing in virtue, and
   freely enjoy their Maker: and their mind, changed, now passes into the
   melody that lasts. And from henceforth their thoughts become song, and
   heaviness being cast out, the hall of their soul is fulfilled with
   wonderful music, so that it has entirely lost the former pricking and
   evermore abides whole in high sweetness, full marvellously singing in
   heavenly sweet meditation.

   Furthermore when they go from this hardness and from the diseases that
   happen here, then the time comes that they shall be taken, and
   withouten doubt be born withouten sorrow to God, and have their seats
   among the seraphim; for they are altogether set on fire with the most
   high fire of love, burning within their souls. So sweetly and devoutly
   have they loved God that whatsoever they have felt in themselves was
   ghostly heat, heavenly song and godly sweetness. Herefore it is truly
   that they die without heaviness, soothly passing with joy; and are lift
   up unto so great a degree in endless worship, and are crowned in the
   contemplation of the great plenteousness of their Maker, singing with
   clearest choirs; the which also more burningly desire after that
   Godhead that rules all things.

   And forsooth though now they clearly behold the chere of truth, and are
   moistened with the most delectable sweetness of the Godhead, yet no
   marvel if after a little while they shall be made more marvellous: when
   the bodies of the saints, that are at this time holden in earth, shall
   be raised from their graves, and their souls shall be knitted to them
   in the last examination. Then forsooth shall they take principality
   among the peoples, and the unrighteous shall they deem to be damned;
   and they shall show that the meanly good were blessed to come to
   Blissfulness. The general doom thus done, soothly they shall be borne
   into everlasting song, and go up with Christ to the height of truth,
   enjoying the Face of God in love withouten end.

   By this it is shown that everlasting sweetness moistens their minds,
   the which binds the bands of true charity, unable to be loosed.
   Wherefore let us seek rather that the love of Christ burn within us
   than that we take heed to unprofitable disputation. Whiles truly we
   take heed to unmannerly seeking, we feel not the sweetness of the
   eternal savour. Wherefore many now so mickle savour in the burning of
   knowledge and not of love, that plainly they know not what love is, or
   of what savour; although the labour of all their study ought to spread
   unto this end, that they might burn in the love of God. Alas, for
   shame! An old wife is more expert in God's love, and less in worldly
   pleasure, than the great divine, whose study is vain. For why, for
   vanity he studies, that he may appear glorious and so be known, and may
   get rents and dignities: the which is worthy to be held a fool, and not
   wise.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VI

   CONCERNING HERETICS: AND FAITH IN THE TRINITY

   The plenteousness and the whole of holy truth shows itself to them that
   seek it; and to the children of unity hidden mysteries are open.
   Wherefore, soothly, springs the frowardness of heretics but from an
   untaught and inordinate mind, which is blinded by desire of its own
   excellence? For truly they cease not to resist God within themselves by
   vain desires; and it is also by their earning that with open arguments
   they gainstand the truth outwardly.

   When the Christian religion wills to cut away all that is contrary, and
   fully accord in unity of love, the manner of heretics and the proud is
   to get new opinions, and to make known questions, unwont and from the
   saying of holy kirk; and so those thing that true Christian men hold
   holy they joy to scatter with their vanities.

   Whose errors casting away we say: Truly the Son of God, even to the
   Father, and without beginning, is evermore to be trowed and understood;
   for except the Father had begotten Him without beginning, truly the
   full Godhead should not have been in Him. Soothly if God had been at
   sometime the Father when He had no Son, then no marvel He was less than
   afterward, when He had gotten a Son; that shall no man of good mind
   say.

   Therefore God unchangeable begets God unchangeable; and whom He has
   begotten from eternity He ceases not this day also to beget. For
   neither might the substance of the Son be called at any time
   unbegotten, nor the being of the Getter ever be conscious of Himself
   without any only begotten Son of Himself. Truly even as the beginning
   of the Godhead may not be found of reason or wit because it has not
   beginning, so the generation of the Son with the eternal Godhead
   unchangingly abides.

   When truly the marvel and worship of God almighty shows itself clearly
   in infinity, without beginning, to what end shall man's folly raise
   itself in striving to make known to the ears of mortal men a sacrament
   unable to be spoken? He truly knows God perfectly that feels Him
   incomprehensible and unable to be known. Nothing, soothly, is perfectly
   known unless the cause thereof, how and in what wise it is, be
   perfectly known. In this present life we know in part and we understand
   in part; in the life to come, truly, we shall know perfectly and fully,
   as is lawful or speedful to creatures. Forsooth he that desires to know
   of our Everlasting Maker above that that is profitable, without doubt
   falls fonder from perfect knowledge of Him.

   Thou askest what God is? I answer shortly to thee: such a one and so
   great is He that none other is or ever may be of like kind or so
   mickle. If thou wilt know properly to speak what God is, I say thou
   shalt never find an answer to this question. I have not known; angels
   know not; archangels have not heard. Wherefore how wouldest thou know
   what is unknown and also unteachable? Truly God that is almighty may
   not teach thee what He Himself is. For if thou knew what God is thou
   shouldest be as wise as God is: that neither thou nor any other
   creature may be.

   Stand therefore in thy degree, and desire not high things. For if thou
   desirest to know what God is, thou desirest to be God; the which
   becomes thee not. Wot thou well God alone knows Himself, and may know.
   Truly it is not of God's unpower that He may not teach thee Himself as
   He is in Himself, but for His inestimable worthiness; for such a one as
   He is, none other may be. Soothly if He might be truly known, then were
   He not incomprehensible. It is enough for thee therefore to know that
   God is; and it were against thee if thou would know what God is.

   Also it is to be praised to know God perfectly; that is to say, He
   being unable to be fully conceived: knowing Him to love Him; loving Him
   to sing in Him; singing to rest in Him, and by inward rest to come to
   endless rest. Let it not move thee that I have said to know God
   perfectly, and I have denied that He may be known: since the prophet in
   the psalm has said: Praetende misericordiam tuam scientibus te, that is
   to say: Thy mercy show to them knowing Thee.' But thus understand this
   authority if thou wilt not err: To them knowing Thee,' that is to say:
   God is to be loved, to be praised, to be worshipped and glorified, the
   only Maker of all things; above all things; through all things; and in
   all things; that is blessed in the world of worlds. Amen.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VII

   THAT IN THE GODHEAD WE OUGHT NOT TO SAY THREE GODS OR THREE ESSENCES,
   AS WE SAY THREE PERSONS: AND THAT ILK MAN SHALL BE CALLED GREAT OR
   SMALL AFTER THE QUANTITY OF HIS LOVE

   If any, erring, would say in the Trinity are three Essences because
   they say three Persons, why should they not also say three Gods; since
   to God it is all one to be God and to be His Essence? We say truly, the
   Father is God; the Son is God; the Holy Ghost is God; the Father also
   is His Essence; the Son is His Essence; the Holy Ghost is His Essence:
   and yet not three Gods nor three Essences we say; but one God and three
   Persons to be of one Essence, with strong faith we grant.

   One Godhead truly there is, of three Persons, full and perfect; and ilk
   Person in the self contains the whole Godhead; evenhood and onehood,
   forsooth, having after the Substance of the Godhead; not lacking
   distinction of diversity after the property of the Name.

   They are also three Persons and one god; one Essence; one Substance;
   one Godhead: and, though ilk Person betokens the Essence, although
   there be three Persons yet three Essences shall not therefore be
   understood. And as our God, the Father the Son and the Holy Ghost we
   call one Essence and not three, so we shall say the High Trinity to be
   three Persons, not one alone.

   The Father is so called, because of Himself He gat a Son; the Son is so
   called, because of the Father He is gotten; the Holy Ghost, because of
   both the Holy Father and the Holy Son He is inspired. The Father, Life,
   getting the Son, Life, has given to Him His whole Substance: so that
   the Father should be as mickle in His Son as in Himself (and the Son is
   not less in the Father than in Himself). But the Father has taken His
   Essence of none; the Son truly of His Father alone has taken in His
   birth that He is; the Holy Ghost forsooth of the Father and the Son
   forth passing, and with Them and in Them endlessly being, is no more in
   Himself than in Either: for truly He is even and everlasting with Them
   of whom He is; since He is of the same Substance, of the same Kind, and
   of the same Godhead; and the third Person in the Trinity.

   Truly the everlasting Son of the Father is become Man in time, born of
   a maiden, that He might gainbuy man from the fiend's power. This is our
   Lord Jesus Christ: the which only be fastened in our minds the which
   for us only was tied on the cross.

   Nothing truly is so sweet as to love Christ. And therefore ransack we
   not too mickle those things that we in this life may not conceive.
   Truly in heaven they shall be clearer than light, if we give all our
   hearts to love God. For we shall be able to be taught of God; and we
   shall joy in full marvellous melody, and in high mirth praise our
   Maker, in full sweet easiness without grief and irksomeness and
   withouten end.

   He forsooth that loves mickle is great, and he that loves least is
   least: for after the greatness of the charity we have in us, shall we
   be praised before God. So is it not before men, but he that has most
   riches or goods is most considered and especially dreaded; when they
   ought not so to do, but most honour and dread them that they suppose be
   best in knowledge.

   Truly the mighty men of this world can do nothing but for their bodies
   or their goods. Holy men truly have more worthiness; for they shall
   have power to spar heaven to them that disease them and would not
   therefore do penance: and also to open heaven to them that have
   honoured them in God, and maintained them in this exile: whiles they
   were arrayed with charity and have not received vainglory. Wherefore
   they should travail to get, to have, and to hold to charity with all
   their might and all their strength, that in the day of temptation they
   may manfully stand against the enemy; and when they shall be proved
   they may receive the crown of life. Charity truly makes men perfect;
   and only those loving perfectly are granted to come to the height of
   contemplative life.

   And truly the poor, although they be clad with heaviness and
   uncleanness, yet they should not be despised; for they are friends of
   God and breathren of Christ, if they bear the burden of poverty with
   deeds of praise. Then sickerly the persons ye despised without, ye
   honour within as heavenly citizens; and in so mickle as ye grow to
   honour them for God, in so mickle He privily works in His Godhead; the
   which, comforting them, says: Beati pauperes quoniam vestrum est regnum
   Dei, that is to say: Blessed be ye poor, for yours is the kingdom of
   God.'

   For the great tribulation and need that they suffer in this life they
   are purged of their sins. For whiles the poor man is noyed in body with
   hunger, thirst, cold, nakedness and other griefs of this world, he is
   purged in soul from uncleanness and worldly filth. And truly in the
   time to come poor men shall feel the sweeter rest of the everlasting,
   in as mickle as in this life they have borne most grievous labours. It
   shall belong to them truly to say: Laetati sumus pro diebus quibus nos
   humiliasti, annis quibus vidimus mala; that is to say: Gladdened are we
   for the days in which Thou hast meeded us, for the years in which we
   have seen grief.'

   Wherefore halse [28] the burden of poverty with joy, and have mind to
   bear goodly other wretchedness; that by the sufferance of tribulation
   thou mayest be worthy to come to the joy of everlasting peace!
     __________________________________________________________________

   [28] embrace
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VIII

   THAT THE PERFECT LOVER OF GOD HAD LIEVER RUN INTO GREAT PAIN THAN BY
   SIN ONCE GRIEVE GOD: AND WHY GOD TORMENTS THE RIGHTEOUS BY THE WICKED

   From the great fire of love so great beauty of virtue grows in souls
   that a righteous man would rather choose to suffer all pain than once
   grieve God; although he knew he might rise by penance and afterward
   please God more and be holier. For ilk one perfect understands this:
   that nothing is more dear to God than innocence, nothing more pleasing
   than good will. For truly if we love God rightly we would sooner lose
   great meed in heaven than once sin venially; for most righteous is it
   to ask no meed of righteousness but the friendship of God, that is
   Himself. Therefore it is better ever to suffer tormentry than once,
   wilfully and knowingly, to be led from righteousness to wickedness.

   Wherefore it follows that they who so burningly love Christ that they
   will in no wise sin, not only shall be free from pain, but shall joy
   endlessly with angels. They truly that serve wicked deeds, and ween
   that worldly and fleshly solace is to be greatly loved, loving those
   things they desire, forsooth they lose both the joy that they love, and
   run into the wickedness that they eschewed not.

   But it is wont to be asked by some why God almighty chastises the
   wicked and the righteous together. Thou seest under the flail both corn
   and chaff at once; but in the winnowing the chaff is cast out and the
   corn is busily gathered to man's use. If all men lived truly, without
   doubt we should dwell in peace and tranquillity, withouten debate and
   battle; but since among the few good are many evil, many diseases comes
   that evil may be chastised: and thus evil things happen to good men
   because they are mingled with the evil unto their death. The righteous
   also, because they are ready to sin, so that their readiness be not
   brought to deed are taught to take a light scouring here, that they may
   escape the bitter scouring that is to come.

   Therefore if thou suffer persecution, wretchedness, and other diseases,
   thou hast that which accords to the place in the which thou dwellest.
   Is not this the vale of tears and tribulations in which thou art? How
   wouldest thou therefore be glad in prison, and live in all prosperity
   in thine exile, or go thy long pilgrimage withouten diseases? Have mind
   that Christ and His apostles have suffered tormentry, and thou by bliss
   seekest to come to joy! But thou shalt not. Forsooth either, in this
   life, the fire of God's love shall waste the rust of our sins and
   cleanse our souls to make them able to flee to bliss, or else, after
   this life, the fire of purgatory shall punish our souls, if it happen
   we escape the fire of hell. Or else, if the strength of love be not so
   mickle in us that it can altogther burn us, it behoves us to be
   cleansed with tribulation, sickness and dis-eases.

   This also we have withouten doubt: that no young man can be made holy
   among flatterings, and sweet words of fair women, and plenteousness of
   liking things, unless it be by the untrowed greatness of God's grace;
   where so many and so great things stir many to fall, so that holy men
   have also ofttimes been lost. Wherefore I trow it is a great miracle
   when man by the grace of God and the love of Christ perfectly despises
   these cherishings and manfully goes up betwixt these enemies to the
   soul--although they seem soft to the flesh--to the high holiness of
   heavenly contemplation. And, withouten fail, the holier he is and the
   more plenteously filled within with the solace of God's love, although
   he be set in the fire, he knows not how to burn; and the foul lusts of
   an unclean life offering themselves, he has perfectly slakened them.

   It is no marvel (that sometimes), though it be seldom, Christ works in
   some beloved to Him, of whom it is said: Expandit nubem in protectionem
   eorum, et ignem ut luceret eis per noctem; that is to say: He has
   spread a cloud, the shadow of God's grace, for their defence against
   fleshly desires, and the fire of endless love to give them light within
   to mind, through the night of this life, that they be not taken by the
   unlawfulness of vain beauty. Truly Christ's love burns in them with so
   great sweetness, that all fleshly and unlawful liking they think of as
   most foul, and therefore they despise it.

   Therefore touch thou not lecherously that which is lawful neither to
   desire nor to have. Have in mind also to withhold thy hand, thy tongue,
   and thy body; and displease not they conscience concerning women. Truly
   the stirrings of lechery are the array of men and women. Also hot
   lectuaries, and other meats that with their heat too mickle enflame the
   flesh--which nourishers of bodies and killers of souls are busy to
   make--should be eschewed by the chaste.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER IX

   THAT GOD IS TO BE LOVED AND WORSHIPPED IN DISEASES: AND ALSO OF THE
   MIRTH AND MEEKNESS OF THE GOOD

   If temporal honour be destroyed by shame, and worldly be ended by
   villainy, it is known without doubt that reproach is better than
   worship, shame than high degree, and heaviness than praise. For by
   these things a man ofttimes slides into vainglory; by the other always,
   if a man bear it patiently, he in this life shall be taught meekness,
   and in the time to come shall suffer no pain--for God will not punish
   the righteous twice--and he shall be crowned: for the patience of the
   poor will not perish in the end.

   Truly to holiness these things belong: first, to think, speak and do in
   no manner what displeases God; and then, to think, speak, and work what
   may please God. Do this after thy knowledge, so that thou neither fall
   into slander nor feign too mickle holiness. For he is a fool that
   desires to appear holy before men; and cruel that shows himself evil
   when he is good.

   Some things truly there are that, taken heed unto, in themselves are
   neither good nor evil, for in their pure nature they are neither
   meedful nor unmeedful; and if such things be done they displease not
   God; nor if they be left undone please not God. For here we may see,
   smell, touch, and yet earn no meed or unmeed. All sin truly is done
   either to God's displeasing, or our neighbour's noying, or to our own
   harm. But many things may be found among men that are none of these.
   Truly to be despised, or lost, in the sight of men, makes man ascend to
   the joy of angels.

   O good Jesu here chastise, here cut, here smite, here burn; yea, and
   whatsoever please Thy goodiness do to me, so that in the time to come I
   have none ill, but may feel Thy love here and everlastingly. To be
   despised by all men in confusion and shame for Thee, is sweeter to me
   than to be called brother by an earthly king, and to be honoured among
   all men and of all men. May wretchedness fall on me on ilka side in
   this life, so that Thou God spare me in the other. I will to be
   chastised and corrected here; and Christ that grant to me, if otherwise
   I may not escape pain to come.

   The proud truly and those full of wrath seem to themselves so worthy
   that they can suffer nothing. Ofttimes at a light word and without
   cause they are moved. Therefore they are to be fled more than to be
   overcome, for they are froward. And that they have taken up they alway
   defend, though it be false or untrue; and neither with authority nor
   reason will they be overcome, that they should not be seen to have said
   what were unaccording. And when they are untaught--and that they wot
   well--yet they will behave as if they were inspired in all things that
   belong to God, so that they may speak in every place without the
   gainsaying of any man; and they had liever dwell still in error than be
   openly reproved for it.

   Brethren, leave this proud madness and mad pride, and let us greatly
   meek ourselves whiles we are in this way: for it is better, lovely, and
   good that after our death Christ say to us, Friend, come uppermore,'
   than that He say Carl, go downermore': so truly shall it be of the meek
   and the proud.

   Wherefore no tribulation, no disease, no wretchedness, no shame, no
   reproach is to dreaded by the righteous man as long as he sins not and
   always profits in contemplative life and the love of God. Truly before
   we may come to that kingly hall, in which, filled with sweetness, we
   shall be glad with the angels of God and all His saints, it befalls us
   here to be reproved by flatterers and wrong sayers; by fawners and
   backbiters; by praisers and blamers; so that, when we shall be
   examined, we may be found alway given to Christ's precepts and His
   counsel, in all patience and meekness and charity; as it is written:
   Tanquam aurum in fornace probavit eos; that is to say: As gold he has
   proved them in the furnace,' that has fire on ilka side, and has found
   them worthy to have Himself. Thus let us go through adversity and
   prosperity, through fire and water, unto the time we come to the
   refreshing of the heavenly life.

   Have mind also that in all diseases and need and poverty thou never
   grumble, nor speak fondly nor frowardly--but in all things give thanks
   to God. Thereby truly shalt thou be lifted up more joyfully to the
   kingdom of the saints, if in this world thou suffer gladly the things
   beforesaid.

   O my soul, among all things that happen praise thy Lord with liking
   devotion; praising, feel with sweetness; and singing, taste with
   honeysweet devotion, saying: Laudabo Dominum in vita mea, that is to
   say, I shall worship my Lord in my life,' whether I be diseased or
   eased: whether I receive honour or shame. As long as I am, I shall sing
   to my God. If I rest, I sing in Jesu; and if I suffer persecution, I
   forget not the love of God. Truly it is enough for me to love my God,
   and to come to Him; since I can do no other or feel myself disposed to
   the work of no other things but to love Christ.

   And yet, I come not to as great love of God as mine elder fathers, the
   which have also done many other profitable things; whereof I am full
   greatly ashamed in myself, and confused. Therefore, O Lord, make broad
   my heart that it may be more able to perceive Thy love. Truly the more
   able man is to receive, so mickle the more of charity he takes and
   savours, and the less he cares for the flesh; but with discretion, so
   that it be with him after the sentence of the wise: Modicum mihi
   laboravi et inveni mihi multam requiem; that is to say: A little have I
   travailed with myself, and I have found great rest to myself.' For
   after a few years of this life the righteous have found rest for
   everlasting.

   The holy lover of God shows himself neither too merry nor full heavy in
   this habitation of exile, but he has cheerfulness with ripeness.
   Forsooth some reprove laughter and some praise it. Laughter therefore
   which is from lightness and vanity of mind is to be reproved, but that
   truly that is of gladness of conscience and ghostly mirth is to be
   praised; the which is only in the righteous, and it is called mirth in
   the love of God. Wherefore if we be glad and merry, the wicked call us
   wanton; and if we be heavy, hypocrites.

   Seldom, soothly, can any man trow in another good that he finds not in
   himself; and he weens another has the sin into which he stumbles. And
   the deed of the wicked is this: that if any follow not their life, they
   trust that he goes wrong and is deceived; and this is because he has
   forsaken meekness. The degrees also of meekness are: to hold the eyes
   low, not high; to have a measure in speech, and not to pass it; to hear
   gladly their betters and those more wise; and to will wisdom should be
   heard from others, rather than from themselves. Not to take the time of
   speaking too soon. Not to go from common life. To set others before
   thyself; to know thy frailties and to deem thyself worse than all
   others. If truly I wished to come among men, I have desired that I
   might sit last in number, and be held least in opinion, and so all my
   joy should be in Christ Jesu; and thus I should take no heed to man's
   praising or blaming, but with busy devotion I should desire after God.

   Forsooth many that have spoken with me were like to scorpions; for they
   have fawned with their flattering head, and with their backbiting tail
   have smitten; from whose wicked lips and sorrowful tongue God shall
   deliver my soul, setting it in the joy of rest.

   But whence is come so great madness into man's mind that none will be
   blamed, none will be reproved, but all truly seek to be praised; they
   joy in honour, and laugh in favour. They also bear the name of a holier
   life; but to me such seem either above measure holy, or else mad,
   although they be called wise and taught. For who of good mind is there
   who leaves himself, not taking heed to himself, and gladdens himself in
   the void words of vain men? Truly if he beholds himself busily, and
   cares to know of what kind he is in thought and deed, he may soon
   understand himself, and may find whether he be worthy of praise or
   reproof.

   When therefore he sees himself in many things worthy of blame and in
   few things to be praised, he should not take with gladness the honour
   or favour of which he is not worthy; unless he be mad and has erred in
   mind. Truly, if carefully considering himself, he finds he waxes
   marvellously warm in the heat and sweetness of God's love, and rises
   highly in contemplative life, and also in this continually stands; and
   has also in mind that either he has not done great sins, or if he have
   done any he trows they be cleansed by true penance: then truly it
   behoves him not to sorrow for the honour of men, because clearly he was
   more worthy of the fellowship of angels.

   Whosoever is thus disposed should no more joy to sit with a king than
   with a poor man; for he takes no heed to riches and honours from men,
   but unto the life and meeds of ilka man. He holds it not great to shine
   in gold, nor to be umbelapped with a great menge, nor to go in purple
   and be glad in the array of bishops: but truly he sets a holy and sweet
   conscience before all pleasures and riches.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER X

   THAT GOD'S LOVER FORSAKES THE WORLD, IDLENESS AND IRKSOMENESS: AND OF
   HYPOCRITES AND COVETOUS MEN

   It is said in the Canticles: Love is strong as death and love is hard
   as hell.' Death truly kills the quick; hell soothly spares not the
   dead. So, certainly, the love of God not only utterly kills the love of
   this world in the man that it perfectly ravishes, but also, being slain
   to the world and quickened to heaven, it stirs him to suffer full
   mickle tribulation and worldly wretchedness for God.

   Wherefore whosoever thou mayest be that hopest that thou lovest Christ
   to this take heed; for if thou yet behold earthly things with delight,
   and also find thy soul high to suffer wrongs or else death, thou
   showest forsooth that thou art not God's true lover. Soothly a true
   lover neither dresses his eyes to the world, nor dreads to suffer all
   that seems heavy or hard to the body for God; and whosoever happen to
   him yet he is not let from the thought of Jesu his Beloved.

   Thou also that either art God's lover, or with thy whole mind desirest
   to be, study alway, as mickle as thou canst by Christ's grace, not to
   be noyed by irksomeness, nor to be taken with idleness. And if it
   sometimes happen that sweet easiness be not to thee in praying or in
   good thinking, and that thou be not made high in mind by the song of
   holy contemplation, and thou canst not sing as thou wast wont; yet
   cease not to read or pray, or else do some other good deed, inward or
   outward, that thou slide not into idleness or sloth. Irksomeness,
   soothly, has drawn many to idleness; and idleness, to negligence and
   wickedness.

   Wherefore be thou alway fervent in as mickle as in thee is; and have
   not thy desire bowed to anything of this world that may be had or
   desired. No man truly is perfectly knit to God, whiles he is bound in
   desire to any worldly creature.

   There are some also that seem outwardly oned to God, and within they
   are given to fiends. These are simulators and false men, that challenge
   the wrath of God. Feigners forsooth they are, that despise the world
   with their words, and with their deeds are known to love it too mickle.
   They will be seen speaking of God, and are so mickle taken up within
   with love of money that they also strive sometimes for the weight of
   two halfpence. The which, opening their mouth to desire God, are
   utterly wanting in charity; and whiles they have no heat of faith and
   charity they show themselves most holy in gait, clothing, and speech.
   These also, moreover, boast themselves steadfast in light diseases, but
   when they come thereto where they should gainstand, there they are
   soonest broken, and there they fall. And then what before was hid is
   openly shown. Yet when they abound in riches and are fed with riches,
   they say they eat full little, and that they have so great thought that
   all this world is but vanity, that, as they say, they can scarcely last
   for feebleness. Deceitful also are they, because they have worldly
   wisdom; and they beguile by that, so that they are not perceived by
   others lying in wait, in as mickle as they are aware; and hiding
   covetousness under the title of ghostly rest, they eschew loss of
   worldly goods, in despite of things everlasting.

   But such, although they lurk for a time, withouten doubt it shall
   appear of what kind they have been long before the end, or at least in
   the end. The which do alms, or any other deed they do, in the sight of
   men; that it may be seen of all men. And such worthily provoke the
   wrath of God for they desire, not to be, but to be seen holy; and
   within, where God sees, wanting in true charity, they challenge their
   own joy not God's.

   Full hard it truly is [to have riches, and not to love them, and not
   less difficult is it] to have a winning craft or office, and not to be
   covetous. Wherefore ofttimes are priests defamed among the people: that
   though they be chaste they are found covetous, if they be generous they
   are made lechers. And ofttimes it happens that having taken the order
   of priesthood, they fall as mickle deep into sin as the degree which
   they unworthily have taken is high. Truly not a few, set on fire with
   noisome covetousness, under colour of sickness or poverty that may come
   say they gather their goods that they may eschew sudden wretchedness.
   But they are beguiled by fiends, for they both lose worldly goods, and
   run into the darkness that they dread, because they heed not God that
   delivers His servants in His sight: and that is worst of all, whiles
   within they are fulfilled with worldly covetousness, without they seem
   to themselves to shine with tokens of holiness.

   But he that is our Lord's servant trusts in our Lord; and distributes
   the goods which he has over his need, to them that need. The servant of
   the world truly studies to keep evilly all that he has, because of his
   covetousness which is unable to be fulfilled: so great a niggard is he
   that he dare not eat, save foully and scarcely, so that, being sparing,
   he may gather mickle money. And these are they that the psalmist shames
   saying: Inimici ejus terram lingent; that is to say: His enemies shall
   lick the earth.'
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XI

   THAT LOVERS OF GOD SHALL DEEM WITH HIM: AND OF THE LOVE OF KNOWLEDGE
   GOTTEN BY LABOUR, AND OF GOD: AND THAT A TRUE LOVER ERRS NOT, NOR IS
   BEGUILED NEITHER WITH FASTING NOR ABSTINENCE, COUNSEL NOR PRESUMPTION

   Man's soul is the taker of God only; anything less than God cannot
   fulfill it: wherefore earthly lovers never are fulfilled. The rest
   therefore of Christ's lovers is when their hearts are fastened by
   desire and thought in the love of God; and loving, burning and singing,
   contemplate Him.

   Sweetest forsooth is the rest which the spirit takes whiles sweet godly
   sound comes down, in which it is delighted, and in most sweet and
   playful songs the mind is ravished to sing the delights of everlasting
   love. Now forsooth the praise of God sounds again in the mouth, and of
   the blest Maiden, in whom it joys more than may be trowed. And no
   marvel that this happens, whiles the heart of the singer is utterly
   burnt with heavenly fire and is figured into His likeness, in the which
   is all sweet and merry song, moistening our affections with heavenly
   savour. And therefore he abounds with inward delights, and in song and
   thought joys in the burning of love.

   This truly is untrowable to all mortals; and he that has this trows not
   that anything so sweet and full of sweetness can be perceived by man,
   being yet in body that will rot, and being grieved with the fetters of
   mortality. The haver marvels also, but is gladdened, because of the
   goodness, unable to be told, of God, that gives His goods plenteously
   and upbraids not; of whom he receives all that he feels.

   Forsooth when that great thing wants--and truly it is called great
   formerly to mortals it is nearly unknown--he never trows himself to be
   in prosperity, but alway languishes in love; whiles he wakes he
   continually sings, or thinks, of love and of his lover: and if he be
   alone the more sweetly he sings.

   Truly from the time that any man has received this, never afterwards
   shall he fully go from it; but evermore shall heat, sweetness, or
   singing--if all these be not near--bide. But all these truly bide
   together, unless they be repressed by full great sickness of the head,
   or of the breast, or of the side; or by great hunger or thirst by the
   which the flesh is broken; or with too mickle cold or heat or with
   travel, they be let.

   Therefore it behoves him that will sing in God's love, and in singing
   will rejoice and burn, to be in the wilderness, and not to live in too
   mickle abstinence; nor to be given in any wise to superfluity or waste.
   Nevertheless it were better for him in little things to pass measure
   unknowingly, whiles he does it with good intent to sustain nature, than
   if for too mickle fasting he began to fail, and for feebleness of body
   he could not sing. But withouten doubt he that is chosen to this
   neither in eating nor in abstinence is overcome by falsehood of the
   fiend. Truly the true lover of Christ, and taught of Christ, with no
   less study is ware of too mickle than of too little. Withouten
   comparison truly shall he be worthy of more meed, that with songful
   joy, praying, contemplating, reading and meditating, and eating well
   but discreetly; than if he, withouten this, should fast evermore, or
   should eat bread alone or herbs, and should continually pray and read.

   Eaten have I and drunken of this that seemed best, not because I loved
   pleasantness, but because nature must be sustained in the service of
   God and in the praise of Jesu Christ; conforming myself in good manners
   to them with whom I dwelt for Christ; and that I should not feign
   holiness where none is, nor that men should praise me too mickle where
   I was full little to be praised. From divers, also, I have gone, not
   because they fed me commonly or in hard measure, but because we have
   not accorded in manners, or for some other reasonable cause.
   Nevertheless I dare say, with blessed Job: Fools have despised me; and
   when I have gone from them they have backbitten me; nevertheless they
   shall be ashamed when they see me that have said that I would not abide
   but where I might be delicately fed.' It is better truly to see what I
   may despise, than to desire what I may not see.

   No marvel that fasting is full good to cast down the desires of the
   flesh, and to make tame wild wantonness of mind. Truly fleshly desires
   lie as it were slaked in him who goes to the height of contemplation by
   song and the burning of love. For the death of ill affections belongs
   to him that takes heed to contemplation; whose soul is also turned
   within into another joy and another form. He lives now not to himself,
   but Christ truly lives in him; wherefore he melts in His love, and
   languishes within himself, and nearly fails for sweetness: he scarcely
   lives for love. His soul is it that says: Nunciate dilecto quia amore
   langueo: that is to say: Show to my Beloved, that I languish for love.'
   I desire to die: I covet to be loosed: full greatly I yearn to go.
   Behold for love I die! Lord, come down! Come, my Beloved, lift me from
   heaviness. Behold I love: I sing: I am full hot: I burn within myself.
   Have mercy upon me, wretched; bidding me be brought before Thee.

   He that has this joy, and in this life is thus gladdened, is inspired
   of the Holy Ghost: he cannot err, whatever he do it is lawful. No
   mortal man can give him counsel so good as that is that he has in
   himself of God Immortal. If others truly would give counsel to him,
   withouten doubt they shall err because they have not known him: and if
   he would give assent to their skills he shall not be suffered of God
   that constrains him to His will, that he pass it not. Wherefore of such
   is said: Spiritualis omnia judicat, et a nemine judicatur; that is to
   say: The ghostly man deems all things, and is deemed of no man.'

   But no man may be of so great presumption that he suppose himself to be
   such a one; although he has perfectly forsaken all the world, and
   though he has led a solitary life, unable to be reproved, and though he
   has gone up to the contemplation of heavenly things. For this grace
   truly is not granted to all contemplatives, but seldom, and to most
   few: the which, taking great rest of body and of mind, are only chosen
   to the work by the strength of God's love. Full hard soothly it is to
   find such a man; and because they are few, full dear are they held,
   desirable, and beloved before God and man; and angels also joy in their
   passing from this world, whom angels company becomes.

   Many forsooth there are that oft, in great devotion and sweetness,
   offer their prayers to God, and praying and meditating they can feel
   sweetness of contemplation; the which also run not about but bide in
   rest.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XII

   THAT NO MAN SHALL DEEM ANOTHER, BUT GIVE GOD PRAISE: AND OF EIGHT
   AFFECTIONS OF THE LOVE OF GOD: AND THAT WOMEN'S COMPANY BE ESCHEWED.

   If any man live holily and righteously, he also despises not the worst
   sinners. Truly they, being tempted, fall because they have no grace of
   gainstanding, although by their own malice they turn themselves from
   good to ill. No man can work well, and love God, and be chaste, except
   God give it to him. Also thou that swellest in pride because thou hast
   done well, for thou hast restrained thyself from fleshly lusts and thou
   hast suffered sharp penance, wherefore thou hast taken praise from the
   mouth of man: have mind that, except the goodliness of Christ had
   overcovered thee, thou shouldest have fallen into as many ills, or into
   worse, than he that is fallen. Truly of thyself thou hadst no grace of
   gainstanding, but of Him, to Whom is said: Diligam te Domine, fortitudo
   mea. 'Thee, Lord my strength, I shall love.' Wherefore, if thou have
   nought but that thou hast received, why pridest thou thyself as if thou
   hadst not received it?

   I forsooth do thanks to my God; the which, without my merit, has so
   chastened His child--for my good and His honour--has so made His
   servant fear, that it seems full sweet to me to flee worldly pleasures,
   that are both few and soon slipping; in no mickle that I might be
   worthy to escape the pains of hell, that are both many and shall never
   end. And yet again He has so taught me, and given me virtuous teaching,
   that I should gladly bear this present penance and tribulation; in so
   mickle that I might come full lightly to everlasting delectation and
   most full prosperity. For if we will, in this life lightly and without
   great sharpness, we can perfectly repent and cleanse ourselves; as long
   as we, as mickle as we can, destroy vice. If we be not cleansed here,
   truly in the time to come, we shall find that the Apostle is true,
   saying these words: Horrendum est incidere in manus Dei viventis.
   'Horrible is it to fall into the hands of the living God.'

   Lord God, have mercy on me! My youth was fond; my childhood vain; my
   young age unclean. But now Lord Jesu my heart is enflamed with Thy holy
   love and my reins are changed; and my soul also will not now touch for
   bitterness what before was my food: and my affections now are such that
   I hate nothing but sin. Nought dread I but to grieve God: I joy not but
   in God: I sorrow not but for my sins: I love nothing but God: nothing I
   trust but Him: nothing heavies me but sin: nothing gladdens me but
   Christ.

   Nevertheless now, lately, of three worthy women I worthily received
   reproof . . . [29] Forsooth coming to myself I do praise to God,
   because by their words He taught me good, and has shown to me a sweeter
   way than I knew before; that Christ's grace so mickle working in me, I
   shall not be found worthy reproof in this way before women.

   The fourth woman, to whom I was in part familiar, not reproving but as
   it were despising me, said: Nought hast thou but fair looks and fair
   words, deeds hast thou none.'

   And therefore I trow it is better to want their speciality than to fall
   into their hands, that know not, either in love nor in despite, to keep
   measure. This truly has happened to me because I have sought their
   health; not that I have unlawfully desired anything of them with whom I
   have for some while taken my bodily sustenance.
     __________________________________________________________________

   [29] Here Rolle recounts three temptations he had of three women, which
   it has seemed best for the purpose of this book to omit.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XIII

   THAT SOLITARY OR HERMIT'S LIFE PASSES COMMON AND MIXED LIFE. AND HOW IT
   COMES TO FIRE OF LOVE: AND OF SWEETNESS OF SONG.

   Some have been and peradventure are yet alive that alway set common
   life before solitary life; saying we ought to run to gatherings if we
   desire to come to high perfection. Against whom there is not mickle to
   dispute, because that life only they bear up with praise, the which
   they either covet to keep, or at the least know full little. Truly they
   praise not solitary life, for they know it not.

   Truly there is a life which no man living in flesh can know, but he to
   whom it is given of God to have; and soothly no man deems truly of this
   thing, of which he is yet unsicker what, and in what manner, it works.
   Withouten doubt, I wot if they knew it more than another they would
   praise it.

   Others err worse that cease not to reprove and slander solitary life,
   saying: Vae soli; that is to say: Woe be to a man alone'; not
   expounding alone' as without God', but without a fellow.' He truly is
   alone with whom God is not; for when he falls into death he is taken
   alive to tormentry, and is sparred from the joyful sight of God and of
   His saints.

   Forsooth he that chooses solitary life for God, and leads it in good
   manner, is not near woe but fair virtue; and the name of Jesu shall
   continually delight his mind; and the more they dread not to take that
   life without man's solace, the more shall it be given them to be
   gladdened with God's comforting.

   Ghostly visitations forsooth ofttimes they receive; the which, set in
   company, they know not at all. Therefore it is said to a beloved soul:
   Ducam cam in solitudinem, et ibi loquar ad car ejus. That is to say: I
   shall lead her into the wilderness, and there shall I speak unto her
   heart.'

   Some truly are taught by God to desire the wilderness for Christ, and
   to hold a single purpose; the which forthwith, that they may more
   freely and devoutly serve God, forsaking the common clothing of the
   world, despise all transitory things, and cast away temporal things;
   and excelling in height of mind they desire only everlasting joy, and
   are only given to devotion and contemplation, and every effort of their
   life they cease not to give to the love of Christ. Of whom full many,
   although from men they dwell full far, yet they stumble not from
   heavenly desires, because their minds are full far from wicked
   conversation.

   The righteous hermits have also a single purpose. They live in the
   charity of God and of their neighbour; they despise worldly praise; as
   mickle as they can they flee man's sight; they hold ilk man more worthy
   than themselves; they continually give their minds to devotion; they
   hate idleness; they manly gainstand fleshly lusts; they savour and
   burningly seek heavenly; earthly they covet not, but forsake; in
   sweetness of prayer they are delighted. Truly some of them feel the
   sweetness of eternal refreshment; and with chaste heart and body, with
   the undefiled eye of the mind, truly behold God and the citizens of
   heaven. Because by the bitter drink of penance they have loved great
   labour, they are now set afire with the love of high contemplation, and
   alone are worthy to take heed to God, and to bide the kingdom of
   Christ.

   Therefore great is the hermit's life if it be greatly done. And truly
   the blessed Maglorius was full of miracles, and from his childhood
   gladdened by the sight of angels. When according to the prophecy of his
   former father, Saint Sampson, he was made archbishop, and had a long
   worthily governed God's kirk, being warned by the visit of an angel, he
   left his archbishopric and chose a hermit's life. And at the end of his
   life his passing was betokened to him. Saint Cuthbert also went from
   his bishopric to an anchorite's life.

   Therefore if such men have done thus for to have more meed, who of good
   mind will be hardy to set any state in holy kirk before solitary life?
   Truly in this they occupy themselves with no outward things, but only
   take heed to heavenly contemplation; and that they be continually warm
   in the love of Christ, and set worldly business perfectly behind.

   Wherefore a heavenly noise sounds within them, and full sweet melody
   makes the solitary man merry; for clatterings distract them who are set
   among many, and but seldom suffer them to think or pray. Of which
   solitary the psalmist speaks in the Song of Love, saying: I will go
   into the place of the marvellous tabernacle, into the house of God.'
   And he describes the manner of going, in rejoicing and songs of praise,
   saying: In voce exultationis et confesionis; that is to say: In voice
   of gladness and shrift.' And that loneliness withouten noise and bodily
   song is needful to that--that man may receive that songful joy, and
   hold it in joying and singing--he openly shows in another place:
   Elongavi, inquit, fugiens; et mansi in solitudine. That is to say:
   Fleeing by myself, I have withdrawn, and in the wilderness I have
   dwelt.'

   In this life truly he is busy to burn in the fire of the Holy Ghost;
   and into the joy of love to be taken and, comforted by God, to be glad.
   For the perfect lonely man hugely burns in God's love; and whiles in
   surpassing of mind he is rapt above himself by contemplation, he is
   lift up joying unto that sweet sound and heavenly noise. And such a
   one, forsooth, is likened to the seraphim, burning within himself
   anchorite without comparison and most steadfast, whose heart is figured
   to godly fire; and in full light and burning he is borne up into his
   love. And forsooth after this life he shall be suddenly taken up to the
   high seats of the heavenly citizens, that in the place of Lucifer he
   may full brightly be. For so great is the burning of love and more than
   can be shown to him that has sought only the glory of his Maker, and
   who, going meekly, has not raised himself above sinners.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XIV

   OF THE PRAISE OF SOLITARY LIFE AND OF THE FIRST LOVERS THEREOF: AND
   THAT LOVE OF GOD STANDS IN HEAT, SONG, AND SWEETNESS: AND THAT REST IS
   NEEDFUL: AND THAT SUCH ARE SAVED FROM DECEITS, AND ARE NOT SET IN
   PRELACY

   Saint Job in tormentry was taught by the Holy Ghost the commendation of
   many manner of holy hermits knit into one, saying: Quis dimisit onagrum
   liberum, etc. that is to say: Who left the wild ass free, and loosed
   her bands?' etc.

   First, therefore, he commends the freeness of grace, when he says: who
   let the wild ass loose?' Second, the putting away of fleshly desires;
   when he says: and his bands loosed.' Third, solitary conversation, when
   he adds: to her he gave a house in the wilderness.' Fourth, the desire
   of endless bliss, when he says: and his tabernacle in the land of
   saltness,' for salt truly slakes not, but increases thirst; and so the
   more they have received anything of the sweetness of everlasting life,
   the more they desire to have, and the more to taste.

   Forsooth John Baptist, after Christ the prince of hermits, tarrying in
   no desire, chose a solitary life; and others have also chosen it, like
   to a gadfly, the which, says Solomon, has no leader or commander, and
   goes forth by companies of gifts and virtues. Truly there are bands of
   nature and of sin, which our Lord has loosed in them, and has confirmed
   the bands of charity.

   The house of the wilderness may also be said to be the rest of a
   sinner; for holy hermits are sundered from worldly strifes and sins;
   and, Christ, giving it, they receive the sweetness of a clear
   conscience, and singing the joys of everlasting love, they rest,
   refreshed by the most merry heat: and although with sharpness and
   frowardness they be pricked in body, nevertheless they resolutely hold
   within their soul praise and burning.

   There is another ill wilderness of pride: when any man either prefers
   himself before all others, or what he has he ascribes to the might of
   his freewill; of whom it is said: Vae soli: 'Woe to the man alone'; if
   he fall he has no helper up. In the beginning truly of a hermit's
   turning--I speak not of runners about that are the slander of
   hermits--they are made weary with many and divers temptations; but
   after the tempest of ill movings God insheds the brightness of holy
   desires, that if they use themselves manly in weeping, meditating, and
   praying, and seeking only the love of Christ, after a little while they
   shall seem to themselves to live more in delight, than in weeping, or
   straitness of labour. They shall have Him whom they loved; whom they
   sought; and whom they desired: and then shall they joy and not be
   heavy.

   What is it truly to joy but to have the good desired; of it to think;
   and in it to rest? No marvel that mirth is sweet where true lovers
   accord, and where the merry solace is of the touching of love; truly
   unable to be told is the desire of burning lovers, and the sight and
   speech of each to the other is sweet to them, above honey and the
   honey-comb.

   Jeremy truly commends solitary life saying: Good it is to be a man when
   he has borne the yoke of God from his young age; he shall sit solitary
   and be in peace; for by the desire and contemplation of things
   everlasting he has raised himself above himself.' Whence it is written
   in scripture: Natus non est in terra quasi Enoch; that is to say: None
   is born on earth as Enoch,' because forsooth he was taken from the
   earth. For contemplative men are higher than others both in excellence
   of work and heartiness of love.

   Love forsooth dwells in the heart of the solitary if he seek nothing
   from vain lordship. Here he utterly burns and longs for light whiles he
   thus clearly savours things heavenly; and sings with honey-sweetness
   and without heaviness; as the seraphim--to whom he is like in loving
   mind--cries and says to his noble Lover; Behold, loving, I burn;
   greedily desiring.'

   Thus with fire untrowed and thirling flame the soul of a lover is
   burned. It gladdens all things and heavenlike sparkles. Nor happily
   desiring do I make an end but alway going to that I love death to me is
   sweet and sicker.

   Forsooth the holy solitary, because he suffered to sit in the
   wilderness for his Saviour, shall receive a golden seat in heaven, and
   excellence amongst the orders of angels. And because for the love of
   his Lord he was clad with vile clothes, he shall do on a kirtle to his
   heels, everlasting, and wrought with the clearness of his Maker. And
   because, taming his flesh, he shamed not to have a pale and lean face,
   he shall receive a full marvellous shining of face; and shall bear a
   most fair mantle, inwoven with precious stones, for his despised
   clothes, among the mighty of Paradise withouten end. And truly because
   he voided vice, and burgeoning not in jollity of this life, has
   entirely cast out the species of sin, the burning of the love of God
   Almighty he has received into himself most sweet heavenly sound; and
   the sound of singers of songs full of charity is worthily inshed
   sweetly into his mind. Therefore bodily and without dread he goes out
   from this exile hearing in his end angels songs; and he that loved most
   burningly, going into the Everlasting Hall, shall full worthily be
   taken up to a degree most joyful, so that with the seraphim he may be
   in a full high seat.

   As I forsooth, seeking in scripture, might find and know, the high love
   of Christ soothly stands in three things: in heat; in song; in
   sweetness. And I am expert in mind that these three can not long remain
   without great rest. For if I would contemplate standing, walking, or
   lying, methought I lacked full mickle thereof in myself and me-seemed
   desolate; wherefore, constrained by need, that I might have and abide
   in high devotion, I chose to sit. The cause of this I know well; for if
   a man stands or walks for some time, his body waxes weary and so the
   soul is let, and in a manner irks for the charge, and he is not in high
   quiet and, it follows, not in perfectness; for, after the philosopher,
   the soul is made wise sitting or resting. He therefore that as yet is
   more delighted in God standing than sitting, may know that he is full
   far from the height of contemplation.

   Whence truly in these three that are tokens of most perfect love, the
   highest perfection of Christian religion without all doubt is found;
   and I have now, Jesu granting, received these three after the
   littleness of my capacity. Nevertheless I dare not make myself even to
   the saints that have shone in them, for they peradventure have received
   them more perfectly. Yet shall I be busy in virtue that I may more
   burningly love, more sweetly sing, and more plenteously feel the
   sweetness of love. Ye err, brethren, if ye trow that none now are so
   holy as the prophets or apostles have been.

   Soothly, heat I call it when the mind is truly kindled in love
   everlasting; and the heart in the same manner, not hopingly but verily,
   is felt to burn. For the heart turned into fire gives the feeling of
   burning love.

   Song I call it when in a soul the sweetness of everlasting praise is
   received with plenteous burning, and thought is turned into song; and
   the mind is changed into full sweet sound.

   These two are not gotten in idleness, but in high devotion; to the
   which the third is near, that is to say sweetness untrowed. For heat
   and song truly cause a marvellous sweetness in the soul; and also they
   may be caused by full great sweetness. Truly there is not any deceit in
   this plenteousness, but rather it is the most perfect ending of all
   deeds. Yet some ignorant of contemplative life are deceived by the
   fiend of the midday into a false and feigned sweetness, for they trow
   themselves full high when they are low.

   But the soul in which the foresaid three things run together, bides
   altogether unable to be thirled with the arrows of our enemy, whiles
   she is continually thinking of the lover; for with mind unsmitten she
   raises herself to heaven and stirs herself to love.

   And marvel not if melody be sent to the soul thus ordinate in love, and
   though she continually receives comfortable songs from the Beloved; for
   she lives not as if under vanity, but as it were clad with the
   heavenly, yea so that she may burn withouten end in unwrought heat and
   never fall. When she also loves unceasingly and burningly, and as it
   was before said, feels this most happy heat in her soul, and knows
   herself subtly burnt with the fire of endless love, plainly feeling her
   most beloved in desired sweetness, meditation is turned into songs of
   joy, and nature is renewed and umbelapped in heavenly mirth. Wherefore
   her Maker whom she has desired with all her heart, has granted her to
   pass without dread and heaviness from the corruptible body, that
   without heaviness of death she may forsake the world; the which being
   the friend of light and enemy of darkness has loved nothing but life.

   This manner of man forsooth that is taken to so high love, ought to be
   chosen neither to office nor outward prelacy; nor to be called to any
   secular errand. Truly they are like the stone that is called topaz, the
   which is seldom found, and therefore it is held most precious and full
   dear, in which are two colours: one is most pure even as gold, and the
   other clear as heaven when it is bright. And it overcomes all the
   clearness of all stones; and nothing is fairer to behold. But if any
   would polish it, it is made dim, and truly if it be left to itself its
   clearness is withholden.

   So holy contemplatives, of whom we spake before, are most rare and
   therefore most dear. They are like to gold for surpassing heat of
   charity, and to heaven for clearness of heavenly conversation; the
   which pass the lives of all saints, and therefore are clearer and
   brighter among the precious stones, that is to say the chosen, because
   loving and having this lonely life they are clearer than all other men
   that are, or else have been. But truly who will polish such, that is to
   say honour them with dignities, are busy to lessen their heat, and in a
   manner to make their fairness and their clearness dim; for truly if
   they get the honour of principality, they shall forsooth be made fouler
   and of less meed. Therefore they shall be left to take heed to their
   studies, that their clearness may increase.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XV

   HOW AND IN WHAT TIME I CAME TO SOLITARY LIFE: AND OF THE SONG OF LOVE:
   AND OF CHANGING OF PLACE

   When I was prospering unhappily, and to youth of wakeful age had now
   come, the grace of my Maker was near, the which restrained the lust for
   temporal shape and turned it into unbodily halsing to be desired; and
   lifting my soul from low things has borne it to heaven, so that I might
   truly burn in desire for the everlasting mirth, more than ever I was
   gladdened before by any fleshly company, or else by worldly softness.

   If I will truly show this process it behoves me preach solitary life.
   The spirit forsooth has set my mind on fire to have and to love this,
   the which henceforth to lead according to the measure of my sickness I
   have taken care. Nevertheless I have dwelt among them that have
   flourished in the world, and have taken food from them. Flatterings
   also, that ofttimes might draw worthy fighters from high things to low,
   I have heard. But these out-casting for the sake of one, my soul was
   taken up to the love of my Maker; and desiring to be endlessly
   delighted with sweetness, I gave my soul up so that in devotion she
   should love Christ. The which she has forsooth received of her Beloved
   so that now loneliness appears most sweet to her, and all solace in
   which the error of man abounds she counts for nought.

   I was wont forsooth to seek rest, although I went from place to place.
   For it is not ill for hermits to leave cells for a reasonable cause,
   and afterwards, if it accord, to turn again to the same. Truly some of
   the holy Fathers have done thus, although they have therefore suffered
   the murmuring of men; nevertheless not of the good. The evil truly
   speak ill; and if they had abode right there they would also have done
   that, for it is customary to them. If the covering of a privy is put
   by, nothing but stink flies out; and ill speaking is spoken out of the
   heart's plenty, in which the venom of adders lurks.

   This have I known, that the more men have raved against me with words
   of backbiting, so mickle the more I have grown in ghostly profit.
   Forsooth the worst backbiters I have had are those which I trusted
   before as faithful friends. Yet I ceased not for their words from those
   things that were profitable to my soul; truly I used more study, and
   ever I found God favorable. I called to mind what is written:
   Maledicent illi, et tu benedices, that is to say: They shall curse him,
   and thou shalt bless.'

   And in process of time great profit in ghostly joy was given me.
   Forsooth three years, except three or four months, were run from the
   beginning of the change in my life, and of my mind, to the opening of
   the heavenly door; so that, the Face being shown, the eyes of the heart
   might behold and see by what way they might seek my Love, and unto Him
   continually desire. The door forsooth yet biding open, nearly a year
   passed until the time in which the heat of everlasting love was verily
   felt in my heart.

   I was sitting forsooth in a chapel, and whiles I was mickle delighted
   with sweetness of prayer or meditation, suddenly I felt within me a
   merry and unknown heat. But first I wavered, for a long time doubting
   what it could be. I was expert that it was not from a creature but from
   my Maker, because I found it grow hotter and more glad.

   Truly in this unhoped for, sensible and sweet-smelling heat, half a
   year, three months and some weeks have out run, until the inshedding
   and receiving of this heavenly and ghostly sound; the which belongs to
   the songs of everlasting praise and the sweetness of unseen melody;
   because it may not be known or heard but of him that receives it, whom
   it behoves to be clean and departed from the earth.

   Whiles truly I sat in this same chapel, and in the night before supper,
   as I could, I sang psalms, I beheld above me the noise as it were of
   readers, or rather singers. Whiles also I took heed praying to heaven
   with my whole desire, suddenly, I wot not in what manner, I felt in me
   the noise of song, and received the most liking heavenly melody which
   dwelt with me in my mind. For my thought was forsooth changed to
   continual song of mirth, and I had as it were praises in my meditation,
   and in my prayers and psalm saying I uttered the same sound, and
   henceforth, for plenteousness of inward sweetness, I burst out singing
   what before I said, but forsooth privily, because alone before my
   Maker. I was not known by them that saw me as, peradventure, if they
   had known me, they would have honoured me above measure, and so I
   should have lost part of the most fair flower, and should have fallen
   into desolation.

   In the meanwhile wonder caught me that I should be taken up to so great
   mirth whiles I was in exile; and because God gave gifts to me that I
   knew not to ask, nor trowed I that any man, not the holiest, could have
   received any such thing in this life. Therefore I trow this is given to
   none meedfully, but freely to whom Christ will; nevertheless I trow no
   man receives it unless he specially love the Name of Jesu, and in so
   mickle honours It that he never lets it pass from his mind except in
   sleep. I trow that he to whom it is given to do that, may fulfill the
   same.

   Wherefore from the beginning of my changed soul unto the high degree of
   Christ's love, the which, God granting, I was able to attain--in which
   degree I might sing God's praises with joyful song--I was four years
   and about three months. Here forsooth, with the first disposition of
   love gathered into this degree, she bides to the very end; and also
   after death she shall be more perfect: because here the joy of love or
   burning of charity is begun, and in the heavenly kingdom it shall
   receive its most glorious ending. And forsooth she profits not a
   little, set in these degrees in this life, but she ascends not into
   another degree; but, as it were confirmed in grace, as far as mortal
   man can, she rests.

   Wherefore without ceasing I desire to give grace and praise to God, the
   which both in diseases, heaviness, and persecution gives me solace; and
   in prosperity and flatterings makes me with sickerness await an endless
   crown. Therefore, in Jesu joying, I continually yield praise; the which
   has vouchsafed me, least and wretched, to mingle with sweet ministers,
   from whom songs of melody, yet heavenly, spring forth through the
   Spirit.

   Continually with joy shall I give thanks because He has made my soul in
   clearness of conscience like to singers clearly burning in endless
   love; and whiles she loves and seethes in burning, the changed mind,
   resting and being warmed by heat, and greatly enlarged by desire and
   the true beauty of lovely virtue, blossoms without vice or strife in
   the sight of our Maker; and thus beating praise within herself,
   gladdens the longer with merry song and refreshes labours.

   Many and great are these marvellous gifts, but among the gifts of this
   way none are such as those which full dearly in figure confirm the
   shapeliness of the unseen life in the loving soul; or which so sweetly
   comfort the sitter, and being comforted, ravish him to the height of
   contemplation and the accord of the angels praise.

   Behold, brethren, I have told you how I came to the burning of love,
   not that ye should praise me, but that ye should glorify my God, of
   whom I received ilk good deed that I had; and that ye, thinking that
   all things under the sun are vanity, may be stirred to follow, not to
   backbite.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XVI

   THE PRAYER OF THE POOR, AND THE LOVING AND DESIRING TO DIE: AND OF THE
   PRAISING OF GOD'S CHARITY

   When the devout poor man is noyed on account of his defaults, he can,
   if he will, pray and say:

   Lord my God, Jesu Christ, have mercy on me and vouchsafe to behold the
   grievous yoke that is put upon my body, and therefore tarries not to
   cast down my soul. My flesh truly fails in the griefs of this life;
   wherefore also ghostly virtue is made weary. For all that I had in this
   world or of this world is ended, and nought is left but that Thou lead
   my soul to another world where my treasure is most precious and my
   substance richest, and unfailingly abides. Wherefore I shall live
   without default; I shall joy without sorrow; I shall love without
   irksomeness; and loving Thee, seeing Thee, and joying in Thee, I shall
   be endlessly fed. Thou truly art my Treasure, and all the Desire of my
   heart; and because of Thee I shall perfectly see Thee, for them I shall
   have Thee.

   And I spake thus to death:

   O Death, where dwellest thou? Why comest thou so late to me, living but
   yet mortal? Why halsest thou not him that desires thee?

   Who is enough to think thy sweetness, that art the end of sighing, the
   beginning of desire, the gate of unfailing yearning? Thou art the end
   of heaviness, the mark of labours, the beginning of fruits, the gate of
   joys. Behold I grow hot and desire after thee: if thou come I shall
   forthwith be safe. Ravished, truly, because of love, I cannot fully
   love what I desire after, until I taste the joy that Thou shalt give to
   me. If it behoves me, mortal--because forsooth it so befalls--to pass
   through thee as all my fathers have gone, I pray thee tarry not mickle;
   from me abide not long! Behold, I truly languish for love; I desire to
   die; for thee I burn; and yet truly not for thee, but for my Saviour
   Jesu, whom, after I have had thee, I trow to see withouten end.

   O Death, how good is thy doom to needy man, whose soul, nevertheless,
   is made sweet by love; to the man, forsooth, truly loving Christ and
   contemplating heavenly things, and sweetly burned with the fire of the
   Holy Ghost. After death he is taken soothly to songs of angels; because
   now being purged, and profiting, he dwells in the music of the spirit.
   And in melody full marvellous shall he die, the which when alive
   thought pithily upon that sweet Name; and with the companies meeting
   him, with heavenly hymns and honour, he shall be taken into the hall of
   the Eternal Emperor, being among heavenly dwellers in the seat of the
   blessed.

   To this has charity truly brought him, that he should thus live in
   inward delight, and should gladly suffer all that happens, and should
   think on death, not with bitterness but with sweetness. Soothly then he
   trows himself truly to live, when it is given him to pass from this
   light.

   O sweet Charity, thou art plainly the dearest sweetness; that catchest
   and takest the mind to thy love; and so clearly thou moistenest it that
   quickly thou makest it despise all passing things and vain joys, and
   only to marvellously yearn after thy desires. Thou hast come into me,
   and behold, all mine inward soul is fulfilled by the sweetness of
   heavenly mirth, and plenteous in the fervour of ghostly joy.

   Therefore, truly I long after love, the fairest of flowers, and I am
   inwardly burned by the flame of fire. Would God I might go from the
   dwelling of this exile!

   Thus it warms, man thinks not how, save that he feels solace in
   himself; the heart singing ditties and taken captive with the charge of
   charity. Soothly this that I thus receive is most merry, and I nearly
   die while it is thus made steadfast with burning love. Now grant my
   best Beloved that I may cease; for death, that many dread, shall be to
   me as heavenly music. Although I am sitting in the wilderness, yet I am
   now as it were set stable in Paradise, and there sweetly is sounding a
   loving song in the delights that my Love has given me.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XVII

   HOW PERFECT LOVE IS GOTTEN BY CLEANNESS AND LOVE: AND OF IMPERFECT LOVE
   AND FAIRNESS, AND OF THREE MIGHTS OF GOD'S LOVE: AND OF THE RICH AND
   POOR: AND OF ALMS

   From cleanness of conscience and plenteousness of ghostly gladness and
   inward mirth, rises the song of joy and the burning of endless love in
   a mind loving truly. No marvel that loving in this manner, love has
   been perfectly had, great in desire, with a moving altogether dressed
   to God, and by no letting removed from His love; withouten strife of
   vain thoughts, constantly cleaving to Christ; in Jesu ever joying; from
   Him never distracted; with ill never moved; whom dead flies never
   deceive or cast down from the sweetness of the ointment.

   The world, the flesh, and the devil have none effect upon him, although
   they prick him; but he treads them under his feet, setting their
   strength at nought. Withouten seething he boils; he loves with great
   desire; he sings with sweetness; he shines with heat; he is delighted
   in God without gainstanding; he contemplates with unbroken upgoing. He
   vanquishes all things; he overcomes all things; of all the things that
   he likes nothing seems to him impossible. Truly whiles any man is busy
   to love Christ with all his strength he feels in himself, forsooth,
   great sweetness of eternal life.

   We are turned truly to Christ if we strive to love Him with our whole
   mind. Certain, so marvellous a Thing is God and so liking to see, that
   I wonder that any man can be so mad and go out of the way that he
   should take no heed to the sight of Him in his soul. Truly not he that
   does great and many things is great; but he that loves God mickle is
   great, and loved of God.

   Philosophers forsooth have travailed mickle, and yet without fruit they
   have vanished. And many that seemed Christians have done great things
   and showed forth marvels, and yet they were not worthy to be saved; for
   the plenteousness of the heavenly crown is not for the doers, but for
   the lovers of God.

   Lord Jesu, I ask Thee, give unto me movement in Thy love withouten
   measure; desire withouten limit; longing withouten order; burning
   without discretion. Truly the better the love of Thee is, the greedier
   it is; for neither by reason is it restrained, nor by dread distressed,
   nor by doom tempted. No man shall ever be more blest than he that for
   greatness of love can die. No creature truly can love too mickle. In
   all other things all that is too mickle turns to vice, but the more the
   strength of love surpasses the more glorious it shall be. The lover
   truly languishes if he has not by him the likeness of that he loves.
   Therefore it is said: Nunciate dilecto quia amore langueo, that is to
   say: Show to my love that I languish for love.' As who should say:
   Because I see not that I love, for love I wax slow also in body.'

   Forsooth turned to Christ with all my heart, I am tied first by true
   penance, and so forsaking all things that long to vanity, after the
   taste of ghostly sweetness, I shall be ravished to sing in songful and
   godly praise. Whereof I say: Ego cantabo dilecto meo; and in the psalm:
   In te cantatio mea semper. That is to say: To my love I shall sing';
   and in the psalm: In thee is ever my song.' No marvel that they
   therefore that thus have lived in God's love, and sweetly have burned
   in inward flagrance withouten dread, in death shall pass from this
   light, but truly with joy; and after death ascend to the heavenly
   kingdoms.

   Therefore it is said of the flame of God's love that it takes the mind
   to wound it. I am wounded by charity, and I am made to languish for my
   love'; whereof it is said, Amore langueo, for love I languish'; and to
   moisten it, that it so goes out towards the Beloved that it forgets the
   self and other things besides Christ. Therefore he says: Pone me ut
   signaculum super cor tuum; that is to say: As a token set me on Thy
   heart.'

   What is love but the transforming of desire into the thing loved? Or
   love is great desire for the fair, the good, and lovely, with
   continuance of thought going in to that thing that it loves, the which,
   when it has, then it joys; for joy is not caused save by love. All
   those loving are truly made like to their love, and love makes him that
   loves like to that that is loved.

   Truly neither God nor other creature disdains or forsakes to be loved,
   but gladly all things say they would be loved, and are gladdened by
   love. They are not heavy truly in loving unless they have loved an
   unkind thing; or if they trow they can not have that thing they have
   lovingly sought. This is never so in the love of God, but ofttimes this
   happens in the love of the world or of woman.

   I dare not say that all love is good, for that love that is more
   delighted in creatures than in the Maker of all things, and sets the
   lust of earthly beauty before ghostly fairness, is ill and to be hated;
   for it turns from eternal love and turns to temporal that can not last.
   Yet peradventure it shall be the less punished; for it desires and joys
   more in love and be loved than to defile or be defiled. The fairer a
   creature is, the more lovable it is in the sight of all. Therefore some
   were wont busily to get health from a shapely form rather than from a
   despised, which has many occasions of bringing in ill. And nature
   teaches the fairer the thing, the more sweetly to be loved.
   Nevertheless ordinate charity says the greater the good, the more it is
   to be loved; for ilk fleshly beauty is as hay, lightly vanishing, but
   godliness truly hides; and ofttimes God chooses the sick and despised
   of the world, and forsakes the strong and fair. Wherefore it is said in
   the psalm: Tradidit in captivitatem virtutem eorum, et pulcritudinem
   eorum in manus inimici; that is to say: Their strength has he given to
   bondage, and their fairness into the hands of their enemies.' And in
   another place: Habens fiduciam in pulcritudine tua, fornicata es; that
   is in English: Having trust in thy fairness, thou hast done
   fornication.'

   It is of love also to melt the mind; as it is written: Anima mea
   liquefacta est, ut dilectus locutus est; that is to say: My soul was
   molten as my Love spake.' Truly sweet and devout love melts the heart
   in God's sweetness, so that the will of man is made one with the will
   of God in wonderful friendship. In which onehood such sweetness of
   liking heat and song is inshed into a loving soul, how great the feeler
   cannot tell.

   Love forsooth has strength in spreading, in knitting, and turning. In
   spreading, truly: for it spreads the beams of its goodness not only to
   friends and neighbours, but also to enemies and strangers. In knitting
   truly: for it makes lovers one in deed and will; and Christ and every
   holy soul it makes one. He truly that draws to God is one spirit, not
   in nature but in grace, and in onehood of will. Love has also a turning
   strength, for it turns the loving into the loved, and ingrafts him.
   Wherefore the heart that truly receives the fire of the Holy Ghost is
   burned all wholly and turns as it were into fire; and it leads it into
   that form that is likest to God. Else had it not been said: Ego dixi
   dii estis et filii Excelsi omnes; that is to say: I have said ye are
   gods, and are all the children of the high God.'

   Forsooth some men have so loved each other that they nearly trowed
   there were but one soul in them both. Truly the man poor in worldly
   goods, though he is rich in mind, is far from such love. It were marvel
   truly if he that behoves ever to take and seldom or never can give, had
   a friend in the which he might trust in all things. By others,
   therefore, trowed unworthy of true love, he has a steadfast friend,
   Christ; and of Him he can faithfully ask whatsoever he will. Truly
   where man's help fails, without doubt God's is near.

   Nevertheless it were more profitable to the rich if he chose a holy
   poor man to his special friend, with whom he would share in common and
   gladly give him all that he had, yea more than the poor wills, and love
   him affectionately as his best and kindest friend. Therefore Christ
   said unto the rich, Make you friends,' meaning, forsooth, the holy poor
   who are God's friends; and gladly God gives to the true lovers of such
   poor, for their love, the joys of Paradise. Soothly I trow that such
   rich should be well pleased with their friendship! But the verse now is
   true that saith: Pontus erit siccus cum pauper habebit amicum; The sea
   shall be dry when a poor man has a friend.'

   Some rich soothly I have found giving as they thought their meat to the
   holy poor, who would not give clothing or other necessaries, trowing it
   were enough if they gave but meat; and so they make themselves half
   friends, or in part; caring no more for the friendship of the good poor
   than of the evil poor. And all things of any price that might be given,
   they save for themselves and their children. And so the holy poor are
   holden no more to them but as they are to others of their good-doers,
   that give them clothes or other goods. And yet, what is worse, the poor
   seem a full great burden to the rich.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XVIII

   OF THE PRAISE AND MIGHT OF CHARITY: AND OF FORSAKING THE WORLD: AND OF
   THE WAY OF PENANCE TO BE TAKEN

   Charity is the queen of virtues; the fairest star; the beauty of the
   soul that does all these things in the soul: that is to say, it wounds
   her; makes her languish; moistens, melts and makes fair; it gladdens
   and enflames; whose ordinate deed is full fair habit. It behoves
   without doubt that all virtue, if it be truly called virtue, be rooted
   in charity. No virtue can be truly held that has not been set in God's
   love. Soothly he who multiplies virtues and good deeds without God's
   love, casts as it were precious stones into a bottomless privy. Shown
   it is and known that all deeds that men do help not in the end to get
   health, if they be not done in the charity of God and of their
   neighbour. Wherefore, since it is charity only that makes us blessed,
   we ought to desire rather to lose our life than in mind, or mouth, or
   deed, defile charity. In this the strivers with sin joy; in this the
   overcomers are crowned.

   Truly ilk Christian is imperfect that cleaves with love to earthly
   riches, or is joined to any worldly solace; for he forsakes not all
   that he has, without which no man can come to perfection. When any man
   truly desires to love God perfectly, he studies to do away all things,
   inward as well as outward, that are contrary to God's love and let from
   His love. And that a man may do that truly he has great business, for
   he shall suffer great strifes in doing it; afterwards truly he shall
   find sweetest rest in that that he seeks.

   We have heard truly that the way is strait that leads to life. This is
   the way of penance that few find, the which therefore is called strait;
   for by it, and it be right, the flesh is stripped from unlawful solace
   of the world, and the soul is restrained from shrewd pleasure and
   unclean thoughts, and is only dressed to the love of God. But this is
   seldom found in men, for nearly none savour that which belongs to God:
   but they seek earthly joy and in that they are delighted, wherefore
   following their bodily appetite, and despising their ghostly, they
   forsake all the ways that are healthful to their soul, and they abhor
   them as strait, sharp, and unable to be borne by their lust.

   Nevertheless every mortal man ought to consider that he will never come
   to the heavenly kingdom by the way of riches and fleshly liking and
   lust, since, forsooth, it is written of Christ: Quod oportuit Christum
   pati, et ita intrare in gloriam suam; that is to say: that Christ
   behoved to suffer and so enter His joy.' If we be members of our Head,
   Jesu Christ, we shall follow Him; and if we love Christ, it behoves us
   go as He has gone; else are we not His members, for from the Head we
   are divided.

   Truly if we be sundered from Him, it is greatly to be dreaded, for then
   are we joined to the fiend, and in the last doom Christ is to say: I
   have not known you.' He, truly, by a noyous gate and strait way entered
   to heaven; how should we, that are wretches and sinners, be made rich
   by the poor, and feed our lust with unlawful things and flatteries of
   this world, and all vanity and softness of flesh and desire for
   delight, and nevertheless reign with Christ in the life to come?

   Christ when He was rich for us became poor; and when we are poor there
   is nothing that we so mickle covet as to be or seem plenteous. Christ
   when He was Lord of all is become the Servant of all: and we, whiles we
   are unprofitable and unworthy servants, yet would we be lords of all.
   He, when He was great God, is become a meek Man; and we, when we are
   sick and simple men, because of pride we raise ourselves in as mickle
   as if we were gods. He was conversant with men that He might raise us
   to the heavens; and we through all our life desire earthly things.

   Therefore it is shown that we love Him not, for we will not meek our
   will to His; nor busy we to fulfill what ilk day we ask, saying: Fiat
   voluntas tua sicut in coelo et in terra; 'Thy will be done as in heaven
   and in earth.' In vain forsooth such men trow to receive the heritage
   with them that are chosen; for they are not partners of Christ's
   gainbuying, the which, by their wicked and unclean works, despise the
   blood by which we are gainbought, and freely yield themselves to the
   bondage of the fiend.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XIX

   OF FAIRNESS OF MIND: VANITY OF THE WORLD: LOVE OF GOD: AND UNION WITH
   OUR NEIGHBOUR: AND WHETHER PERFECT LOVE CAN BE LOST AND GOTTEN IN THIS
   WAY

   If thou be gladdened in fairness know it well, for the fairness of thy
   mind shall make thee beloved of the highly Fair if for love of Him only
   thou keepest it undefiled. Soothly the corruptible flesh with all its
   beauty is full feeble and to be despised, because, soon passing, it
   beguiles all its lovers. Therefore the virtue of our life stands in
   this: that vanity being despised and spurned, we cleave unpartingly to
   truth.

   All earthly things which are desired on earth are vain; true soothly
   are the heavenly and eternal which can not be seen. Ilk Christian man
   in this shows himself truly chosen of God, that he sets these earthly
   things at nought; his desires are altogether spread in God, and he
   receives thereof a privy sound of love that no man umbelapped with
   worldly desires knows, being wretchedly withdrawn from the savour of
   heavenly joy. But no marvel that the shining soul, utterly intent to
   the love of the everlasting and inwardly desiring Christ, is wont to
   have his heart's capacity fulfilled with plenteousness of sweetness; so
   that in this flesh made merry, as it were with angels' life, they are
   gladdened with songful mirth.

   Therefore if our love be pure and perfect, whatever our heart loves it
   is God. Truly if we love ourself, and all other creatures that are to
   be loved, only in God and for God, what other in us and in them love we
   but Him? For when our God truly is loved by us with a whole heart and
   all virtue, then, without doubt, our neighbour and all that is to be
   loved, is most rightly loved. If therefore we shed forth our heart
   before God and in the love of God being bound with Him, and holden with
   God, what more is there by which we can love any other creature?

   Truly in the love of God is the love of my neighbour. Therefore as he
   that loves God knows not but to love man, so he that truly knows to
   love Christ is proved to love nothing in himself but God. Also all that
   we are loved by and love--all to God the Well of love we yield: because
   He commands that all the heart of man be given to Himself. All desires
   also, and all movings of the mind, He desires be fastened in Him. He
   forsooth that truly loves God feels nothing in his heart but God, and
   if he feel none other thing nought else has he; but whatso he has he
   loves for God, and he loves nought but that God wills he should love;
   wherefore nothing but God he loves and so all his love is God. Forsooth
   the love of this man is true, for he conforms himself to his Maker, the
   which has wrought all things for Himself; and so he loves all things
   for God.

   Soothly when the love of the everlasting is truly kindled in our souls,
   without doubt all vanity of this world and all fleshly love is held but
   as foulest filth; and whiles the soul is given to continual devotion,
   she desires nothing but the pleasance of the Maker. Marvellously she
   burns in herself with the fire of love, that, slowly profiting and
   growing in ghostly good, henceforth she falls not into the slippery way
   and the broad that leads to death, but rather, raised up by a heavenly
   fire, she goes and ascends into contemplative life.

   Truly contemplative life is not perfectly gotten of any man in this
   vale of tears, even a little, unless first his heart is inflamed from
   its depths with the torches of eternal love so that he feels it burn
   with the fire of love, and his conscience he knows molten with heavenly
   sweetness. So no marvel a man is truly made contemplative whiles both
   tasting sweetness and feeling burning he nearly dies for the greatness
   of love. And therefore he is fastened in the halsing, as it were
   bodily, of endless love; for contemplating unceasingly with all his
   desire, he busies him to go up to see that undescried light. Forsooth
   such a man knows to grant no comfort in his soul but God's, in whose
   love now languishing to the end of his life he is made to desire,
   crying grievously with the psalmist: Quando veniam et apparebo ante
   faciem Dei? that is to say: When shall I come and appear before the
   face of my God?'

   This is perfect love. But it may not incongrously be asked whether this
   standing in love, once had, may at any time be lost. Truly whiles man
   can sin he can lose charity; but not to be able to sin belongs not to
   the state of this way but to the country above: wherefore ilk man,
   howsoever holy he be in this life, yet he can sin and mortally; for the
   dregs of sin are fully slakened in no pilgrim of this life after common
   law. Truly if there were any such the which neither desire nor could be
   tempted, they should belong to the state of heaven rather than of this
   way; nor were it of meed to them not to default, whiles they can not
   sin. I wot not if any such be living anywhere in flesh for, I speak for
   myself, the flesh desires against the spirit, and the spirit against
   the flesh; and after the inward man I am glad in God's law, but I know
   not yet so mickle love that I could utterly slake all fleshly desire.

   Nevertheless I trow that there is a degree of perfect love, the which
   whosoever attains he shall never afterwards lose. For truly it is one
   thing to be able to lose, and another alway to hold, what he will not
   leave although he can.

   The perfect truly abstain themselves, as mickle as in them is, from ilk
   thing by which their perfection can be destroyed or else let. Truly
   with the freeness of their choice they are fulfilled with the grace of
   God, with which they are busily stirred to love, to speak and do good;
   and they are withdrawn from ill of heart, mouth, and work.

   When a man is therefore perfectly turned to Christ he despises all
   passing things, and he fastens himself immovably to the desire only of
   his Maker, as far as he is let by mortality because of the corruption
   of the flesh. Then no marvel, manly using his might, first the heaven
   as it were being opened, with the eye of his understanding he beholds
   the citizens of heaven; and afterward he feels sweetest heat as it were
   a burning fire. Then he is imbued with marvellous sweetness, and
   henceforth he is joyed by a songly noise.

   This therefore is perfect charity, which no man knows but he that
   receives it; and he that has received never leaves it: sweetly he
   lives, and sickerly shall he die.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XX

   OF THE PROFIT AND WORTHINESS OF PRAYER AND MEDITATION

   Constant prayer helps mickle to get and hold to this stableness of
   mind; for if it be grounded in mind it undoes the might of fiends.
   Though God truly knows all things, and before we ask anything He knows
   perfectly what we will ask, yet we ought to pray for many causes.

   Because Christ gave example to us to pray when He nighted alone on the
   hill in prayer. And because it is the commandment of the Apostle, Sine
   intermissione orate. Oportet enim orare, et non deficere. Withouten
   ceasing pray ye. Soothly it behoves to pray, and not to fail.'

   Also that we may be worthy of grace in this life, and joy in time to
   come: wherefore Ask and ye shall receive. He that asks receives, and to
   the caller it shall be opened.'

   Also because the angels offer our prayers to God to help their
   fulfillment. Truly thoughts and desires are bare and open only to God;
   yet angels know when saints think worthy and holy things and are
   inflamed greatly with the love of eternal life, by God's showing and by
   the experience of their outward deeds, because they see them serve God
   only. Wherefore the angel said to Daniel: Vir desideriorum es. 'A man
   thou art of desires.'

   Also because by the continuance of prayer the soul is burnt with the
   fire of God's love; our Lord truly says by His prophet: Nonne verba mea
   quasi ignis, et quasi malleus conterens petras? 'Are not my words as
   burning fire, and as a mallet breaking stones?' The psalm also says:
   Ignitum eloquium tuum vehementer; 'thy speech is hugely burned.'

   But there are many now that forthwith cast out the word of God from the
   mouth and heart, not suffering it there to rest in them; and therefore
   they are not burnt with the heat of comfort but bide cold in sloth and
   negligence, even after innumerable prayers and meditation of scripture,
   because forsooth they neither pray nor meditate in mind; whiles others
   that put back all sloth are within a short while greatly burned, and in
   Christ's love full strong.

   Therefore it follows full well: Et servus tuus dilexit illud; that is
   to say: And Thy servant has loved it.' Therefore truly is he burned
   because Thy word, Lord, he loved; that is to say to ponder, and after
   it to work. Thee he has sought sooner than Thine, and has received of
   Thee both Thee and Thine. Others serve Thee in order to have Thine and
   for Thee they care little. Truly they feign they would be under Thy
   service, to get worldly honour and to seem glorious among men; but
   whiles they joy to have found a few things, they lose many; because of
   Thee and Thine, and themselves and theirs.

   It also behoves us to pray that we may be saved; therefore James warns,
   saying: Orate pro invicem ut salvemini, 'Pray for yourselves, that ye
   be saved.'

   Also that we be not made slow, and that we be continually occupied in
   good: therefore it is said: Vigilate et orate ne intretis in
   temptationem, that is to say: Wake ye and pray, that ye enter not into
   temptation.' Truly we ought ever to pray or read or meditate, with
   other profitable deeds, that our enemy never find us idle.

   But it must be taken heed to with all busyness that we wake in prayer,
   that is to say not be lulled by vain thoughts that withdraw the mind
   and make it forget whither it is bound and alway let, if they can, to
   overcome the effect of devotion; the which the mind of the pray-er
   would perceive if he prayed with wakefulness, busyness and desire.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XXI

   THAT CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE IS WORTHIER AND MEEDFULLER THAN ACTIVE: AND OF
   BOTH PRELACY AND PREACHING

   By some truly it is doubted which life is more meedful and better;
   contemplative or active. It seems to not a few that active is
   meedfuller because of the many deeds and preachings that it uses. But
   these err unknowingly, for they know not the virtue of contemplative.
   Yet there are many active better than some contemplative; but the best
   contemplative are higher than the best active.

   Therefore we say the contemplative life is altogether the better, the
   sweeter, the more worthy, and the more meedful as to the true meed,
   that is joy of the unwrought good, because the contemplative more
   burningly loves God. And more grace is asked if contemplative life be
   led rightly, than active.

   The reason of more fervent love in contemplative life than in active is
   because in contemplative they are in rest of mind and body, and
   therefore they taste the sweetness of eternal, before all mortal love.
   The active truly serve God in labour and outward running about, and
   tarry but little in inward rest, wherefore they can not be delighted
   save seldom and shortly; the contemplative soothly love as if they were
   continually within the halsing of their Beloved.

   Forsooth some gainsetting say: active life is more fruitful; for it
   does works of mercy, it preaches and works other such deeds; wherefore
   it is more meritorious. I say, nay, for such works belong to accidental
   reward, that is, joy of the thing wrought. And so one that shall be
   taken into the order of angels can have some meed that he that shall be
   in the order of cherubim or seraphim shall not have; that is to say joy
   of some good deed that he did in this life, the which another--that
   without comparison surpasses in God's love--did not. Also ofttimes it
   happens that some one of less meed is good, and preaches; and another
   preaches not, that mickle more loves. Is not this one better because he
   preaches? No; but the one that loves more is higher and better,
   although he be less in preaching he shall have some meed, because he
   preached not, that the greater was not worthy of.

   Therefore it is shown that man is not holier or higher for the outward
   works that he does. Truly God that is the Beholder of the heart rewards
   the will more than on the deeds. For the more burningly that a man
   loves, in so mickle he ascends to a higher reward.

   Truly, in true contemplative men, there is a full sweet heat and the
   plenteousness of God's love abiding, from the which a joyful sound is
   sent into them with untrowed mirth; and this is never found in active
   men in this life, because they take not heed only to heavenly things,
   so that they might be worthy to joy in Jesu. And therefore active life
   is worthily put behind; and contemplative life, in this present and in
   the life to come is worthily preferred.

   Wherefore in the litter of the true Solomon the pillars are of silver
   and the resting place of gold. The pillars of the chair are the strong
   upbearers and the good governors of holy kirk; these are of silver, for
   in conversation they are clear and in preaching full of sound. The gold
   resting place are contemplative men; on the which, being in high rest,
   Christ especially rests His Head, and they forsooth in Him singularly
   rest. These are of gold, for they are purer and dearer in honesty of
   living, and are redder in burning of loving and contemplating.

   God forsooth has forordained His chosen to fulfill divers services. It
   is not given truly to ilk man to execute or fulfill all offices, but
   ilk man has that that is most according to his state. Wherefore the
   Apostle says: Unicuique nostrum data est gracia secundum mensuram
   donationis Christi; that is to say: To ilk one of us is grace given
   after the measure of Christ's gift.'

   Some truly do alms of righteously gotten goods; others to their death
   defend the truth; others clearly and strongly preach God's word, and
   others show their preaching in their writing; others suffer for God
   great penance and wretchedness in this life; others, by the gift of
   contemplation, are only busy to God and set themselves straitly to love
   Christ. But without doubt, among all estates that are in the kirk, they
   that are become contemplative joy with a special gift; they are now
   worthy with singing to joy in God's love.

   Truly if any man might get both lives, that is to say contemplative and
   active, and keep and fulfill them, he were full great; that he might
   fulfill bodily service, and nevertheless feel the heavenly sound in
   himself, and be melted in singing into the joy of heavenly love. I wot
   not if ever any mortal man had this. To me it seems impossible that
   both should be together.

   Christ truly in this respect is not to be numbered among men, nor His
   blest Mother among women. For Christ had no wandering thoughts, and He
   was not contemplative in a common manner, as saints in this life are
   contemplative; truly He needed not to labour as we need, because, from
   the beginning of His Conceiving, He saw God.

   No marvel by great exercise of ghostly works there comes into us a
   songful joy, and we receive the sweetest sound from heaven; and so
   henceforward we desire to stand in rest, that with great sweetness we
   may joy. Therefore he that serves active life well is busy to go up to
   contemplative life.

   He who truly is raised in the manner aforesaid with the gift of
   heavenly contemplation, comes not down to active; unless peradventure
   he be compelled to take governance of Christians; that I trow has
   seldom or never happened. But other contemplatives can well be chosen
   for that, because they are less imbued with heat of love. Forsooth
   lesser saints are sometimes more able than greater for the office of
   prelacy, because they that could not rest perfectly in inward desires
   shall behave themselves more accordingly about outward business.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XXII

   THE BURNING OF LOVE PURGES VICES AND SINS: AND OF THE TOKENS OF TRUE
   FRIENDSHIP

   The burning of love truly taken into a soul purges all vices; it voids
   both too mickle and too little, and plants the beauty of all virtues.
   It never stands with deadly sin, and if it do with venial yet
   nevertheless the moving and desire of love in God can be so burning
   that they waste all venial sins, without also thinking in deed of these
   same venial sins: for whilst the true lover is borne to God with strong
   and fervent desire, all things displease him that withdraw him from the
   sight of God. Truly whiles he is gladdened by songly joy, his heart may
   not express what he feels of heavenly things, and therefore he
   languishes for love.

   Perfect men also never bear what may be burned to the life to come, for
   in the heat of Christ's love all their sins are wasted. But lest any
   man ween himself perfect in vain when he is not, let him hear when a
   man has perfection in himself.

   This truly is the life of the Perfect: to cast away all charge of
   worldly errands; to forsake father and mother and all thy goods for
   Christ; to despise all passing goods, for endless life; to destroy
   worldly desires with long labour; as far as it is possible to refrain
   from lechery and all unlawful movings; to burn only in the love of our
   Maker; after bitter sorrows and surpassing busyness in ghostly works,
   to feel the sweetness of heavenly contemplation: and so, I speak of men
   privileged, for the joy of God's love, to be taken by contemplation
   into ghostly song or heavenly sound, and to bide sweetly in inward
   rest, all disturbances being put aback, in so mickle that whiles it is
   lawful to the man of God to work nothing outward, he is taken within to
   sing the sweetness of eternal love in songs of delight and unmeasured
   mirth. Thus, no marvel that he shall have sweetness in mind such as the
   angels have in heaven; although not so mickle.

   Soothly in this wise is man made perfect; and he shall not need to be
   purged with fire after this life, who, being in the flesh, burns
   burningly with the fire of the Holy Ghost. And yet this perfect love
   makes not a man ay not to sin, but that sin lasts not in him but is
   wasted forthwith by the fire of love.

   Truly such a lover of Jesus Christ says not his prayers like other
   righteous men, for, set in righteous mind, and ravished above himself
   by the love of Christ, he is taken into marvellous mirth, and a goodly
   sound is shed into him, so that he as it were sings his prayers with
   notes; also offering with his mouth melody that, though hidden from
   human sense, is full bright to God and to himself. Strength and ghostly
   virtue have now truly so mickle overcome in him heaviness of the flesh
   that he can be ay glad in Christ; whose heart, turned into fire of
   love, feels verily heavenly heat, so that he can scarcely with life
   bear the greatness of such burning love. But the goodness of God keeps
   him until the time ordained; the which gave it him that he so mickle,
   might love, and truly say, I languish for love.'

   As the Seraphim burned, he burns and loves; he signs and joys, he
   praises and grows warm; and the more pleasing he is, the hotter he
   burns in love. He not only dreads not death, but he is glad to die with
   the Apostle: Mihi, inquit, Christus vivere vita est, et mori gaudium,
   that is to say: Christ to me is life; and to die great joy'; etc.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XXIII

   THAT PERFECT LOVE MINGLES NOTHING WITH GOD: AND WHY. AND THAT IT IS
   NEEDFUL TO LOVE: AND OF THE BLINDNESS OF FLESHLY LOVE

   If we perfectly forsake the filth of sins and the vices of this world,
   we love nothing but God. How truly should God be all in all if anything
   were in man beside His love? No man truly has joy unless he loves the
   good.

   The more therefore that a man loves God, no marvel the more plenteously
   he shall joy in Him; because the more busily and fervently we desire
   anything, it being gotten, the more heartily we joy. Therefore truly
   has a man joy because he has God; and God truly is that Joy: the which
   forsooth none of them have that seek anything besides God. For if I
   desire anything for myself, and I set not my God as the end of that
   desire, sicker it is that I have made a traitor of myself, and my
   hidden guilt is openly shown.

   God truly will be loved in this wise: that no man be mingled with Him
   in His love. For if thou dividest thy heart and dreadest not to love
   another thing with Him, without doubt know well that thy love is
   forsaken of God; the which vouchsafes not for to behold a part of love.
   All the whole truly or nought He takes; for He gainbought the whole.
   For in the sin of Father Adam forsooth thy body and thy soul were
   damned; wherefore God is come down into a Maiden's body and become man,
   and has given the price of thy deliverance, that not only He might
   deliver thy soul from the power of the fiends, but also He might make
   thy body with thy soul blessed at the end of the world. Therefore thou
   hast the commandments of eternal life. If thou wilt enter the kingdom,
   lost, and after reparalled with Christ's blood, it behoves thee to keep
   God's commandments.

   And truly as thou desirest after thy death to ascend into full and
   perfect joy, so it behoves thee in this life to have mind to love God
   with a whole and perfect heart. Else as now thou art not given to God's
   love, so then not perfect joy but endless torment shalt thou have. For
   truly whiles thou takest not heed to thy Maker with whole love and
   mind, thou art proved soothly to love some creature of God more than is
   honest or lawful. A soul can not be reasonable without love whiles it
   is in this life: wherefore the love thereof is the foot of the soul, by
   which, after this pilgrimage, it is borne to God or the fiend; that it
   may be subject to him whose will here it served.

   Nothing truly can be loved but for the goodness that it has, or else
   seems that it has, and which is either in the loved or certainly
   thought to be in that that is loved. Herefore truly it is that lovers
   of bodily beauty or worldly riches are beguiled as it were by
   witchcraft; for delight is not those things the which we think we feel
   or see, nor the joy that is feigned, nor the good name that we give it.

   No man therefore more damnably forgets his soul than he that sets his
   eye on woman for lechery; truly whilst the sight of the eye kindles the
   soul, anon from the things seen thought enters and engenders desire in
   the heart, and defiles the inward beauty. Wherefore suddenly with
   burning of a noyous fire it is umbelapped and blinded, that it may not
   see the sentence of the strait Judge. And thus the soul, taken from
   heavenly sight by evil and unclean love, stints not to show tokens of
   her error; and unless she may bring forth the filth that is conceived,
   she mistrusts of her prosperity.

   Filth forsooth she conceived, that is to say wicked desire; thereby
   shall wickedness worthily be brought forth, because the soul the sooner
   slides to slippery lust inasmuch as she takes no heed to the great
   peril in which she errs. The dooms of God are withdrawn also from her
   face. Whiles truly she begins to take pleasure in fleshly desires, she
   sees not into how great a pit of wretchedness she casts herself.

   Soothly the doom of God is that he who wilfully despised God, casting
   himself down into deadly sin, shall, God deeming, unwillingly be damned
   after this life. In the time to come truly he can not defend himself
   from the pains of hell, that, set in this life, would not, when he
   could, with all his power forsake deadly sins, and wholly hate all
   wickedness.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XXIV

   OF THE STINK OF LECHERY AND THE PERIL OF TOUCHING: AND OF THE
   CURSEDNESS OF COVETOUSNESS: AND OF UNGODLY GLADNESS

   Whiles a man weds not for pure love of God and virtue and chastity, but
   is busy to live in chastity and in array of all virtue, doubtless he
   gets to himself a great name in heaven; for as he ceases not to love
   God here, so in heaven he shall never cease from His praising. Wedlock
   soothly is good in itself; but when men constrain themselves under the
   band of matrimony for the fulfilling of their lust, they turn forsooth
   good into ill, and whereby they ween to profit, thereof they cease not
   to be worse. Whosoever loves wedlock for this intent, because by it he
   trows he may be rich, is, without doubt, busy to loose the bridle of
   wantonness; and overflowing in lust and riches, he joys full mickle to
   have found medicine for his slippery flesh.

   There are forsooth froward men that love their wives unmannerly for
   their beauty; and the sooner their bodily strength is broken the more
   loose are they to fulfill their bodily lust. For the more lust they
   have the sooner they fail, and whiles they have prosperity they perish;
   and whiles they are busy to be fed with lust, they wretchedly lose
   strength of body and mind.

   Nothing soothly is more perilous, fouler and more stinking for man than
   to put his mind on woman's love, and desire her as blissful rest. No
   marvel what before he desired with mickly anguish as great bliss, after
   the deed straightway waxes foul. Afterward he knows truly that he has
   cowardly gone wrong in such lust, when he perceives lust so short and
   diseases long. For it is shown that he was strongly bound with a foul
   band of feeble vanity. But because he would not turn to God with all
   his heart, he knew not his wretchedness until the time he felt it; and
   therefore he fell into the pit of bondage, because he beheld not the
   seat of joy. If truly he had felt one drop of the sweetness of eternal
   life, never should fleshly fairness--that is beguiling and vain
   grace--have appeared so sweet to his mind. But alas! he takes no heed
   how stinking and odious is his wretched lust in the sight of God
   Almighty, and in his conscience he sees not himself beguiled.

   No man certainly can be given to uncleanness of the flesh unless he err
   from the ways of righteousness. Truly whiles the fire of earthly love
   ceases not to inflame man's mind, no marvel it wastes in it all the
   moisture of grace, and making it both void and dry, it alway increases
   its heat; and from the fire of covetousness kindles the fire of
   lechery. And so the thrall soul, marvellously mazed, covets nothing but
   fleshly desires, or to increase riches, and making his end in them,
   labours always to get new things; and he sees not those pains that he
   goes to because he cared not for God's words and His commandments. And
   because he desires only these outward joys, and is blinded to the
   inward and unseen, as it were sightless he goes to the fire. And truly
   when the unhappy soul shall pass from the body, she shall know
   perfectly in the Judgment how wretched she was; the which trowed
   herself, whiles she was in the flesh, not only guiltless, but also
   happy.

   In ilk thing therefore cleanness of mind more than of body is to be
   cared for; for certain it is less wicked to touch the flesh of woman
   with bare hands than to be defiled with wicked lust in mind. Truly if
   we touch women and think nothing evil in heart it ought not to be
   called sin, although through it temptation of the flesh sometimes
   arises; for man falls not into evil whiles his mind is steadfast in
   God.

   Whiles the heart of the toucher is caught by divers desires, or is
   bowed in evil sweetness, and he is not straightway refrained by the
   love of God and steadfastness in virtue, know without doubt that that
   man has the sin of uncleanness within himself, though he be never so
   far not only from women but also from men. And forsooth if a true man
   be untied with an untrue woman, it is full near that his mind be turned
   to untruth. Truly it is the manner of women that when they feel
   themselves loved out of measure by men, they beguile men's hearts by
   cherishing flattery; and they draw to those things that their wicked
   will stirred up, the which before they assayed by open speech.

   Solomon soothly was wise and true to God for a while, but afterward,
   for the too mickle love by which he drew to women, he failed most
   foully in steadfastness and in the commandments of God; the more worthy
   to be grievously smitten in that he, set in great wisdom, suffered
   himself to be overcome by a fond woman. Let no man therefore flatter
   himself, and no man presume to say of himself I am sicker, I do not
   dread, the world can not beguile me,' whilst thou hearest of the wisest
   man the unwittest deed.

   Covetousness is also ghostly fornication; for the covetous heart, for
   the love of peace, opens his bosom to the strumpetry of the fiend. When
   God was loved before the love of money, as very Spouse, and afterward
   He is forsaken because of unclean love and wicked wooers received, what
   else is done but fornication and idolatry? Be we therefore busy to keep
   our hearts clean in the sight of God Almighty, and to destroy venomous
   delectations; and if anything have been done in our heart by frailty,
   let nothing now be shown before God but perfectness.

   Sometimes truly we are hated by some men for mickle mirth, and
   sometimes we joy in words and laughter, and although this, and more
   such, may be done with a clean soul before God, nevertheless before men
   we know well it is taken and expounded ill; and therefore moderation is
   to be had; and that we keep ourselves wisely nor place ourselves where
   we trow we can do ought that is like evil.

   It is good for the servants of Christ to be near God, because in desire
   for Him they receive the heat of the fire of the Holy Ghost; and they
   sing the sweetness of endless love with sweetest heavenly sound like to
   honey. Wherefore melliflui facti sunt coeli: that is to say: the
   heavens are made sweet as honey,' that is to mean: saints that so
   burningly have loved Christ, knowing that He has suffered so mickle for
   them. Whence truly the minds of the saints are knitted to endless love,
   unable to be loosed; and although ravished as it were by the sweetness
   of heavenly life, by a melody as it were felt before, are gladdened in
   that.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XXV

   OF PERFECT LOVE: AND WHAT MUST BE HAD FOR GHOSTLY JOY: AND OF LOVE AND
   CORRECTION

   Excellence of meed stands in greatness of love; so that a lover burns
   with ever burning fire and is fulfilled within with heavenly sweetness.
   He truly that loves most shall be set highest in heaven. For this love
   is in the heart, and the more it loves God the more joy it feels in
   itself. They err therefore that but seldom and shortly have the joy of
   love, and that trow they love as mickle as he that is fed, as it were
   all day, with the sweetness of love. Some truly love with difficulty
   and some with ease, but the love of God is the more blessed in that it
   be light; the lighter, the heartier; the quicker, the sweeter; the
   sweeter, the more. Truly it is greater in resters than in labourers;
   therefore they that continually rest and fervently love are higher than
   they that some time take heed to rest, and some time to other
   occupations.

   Nothing truly is better than love, nothing sweeter than holy charity.
   For to be loved and to love is a sweet change; the delight of all man's
   life, and of angel's, and of God's; and also the meed of all
   blessedness. If therefore thou desirest to be loved, love; for love
   gainyields itself. No man has ever lost by good love who keeps in view
   the end of love. Soothly he that knows not to burn in love knows not to
   be glad. Therefore never is a man more blessed than he that is borne
   without himself by the might of love, and by the greatness of God's
   love receives within himself a songful sweetness of everlasting
   praising.

   But this happens not anon to every man; but when a man, turned to God,
   marvellously exercises himself and has cast away all desire for worldly
   vanity; then God sheds into His lovers that unspoken praising. The mind
   truly disposed to cleanness, receives from God the thought of eternal
   love; and soothly clean thought rises up to ghostly song. Clearness of
   heart, certain, is worthy to have heavenly sound; and so that God's
   praising should bide in ghostly joy, the soul is warmed with God's
   fire, and is gladdened with full marvellous delight.

   But although a man forsake the world perfectly; and busily take heed to
   prayer, waking, and fasting; and have cleanness of conscience, so that
   he desire to die for heavenly joy, and to be dissolved and be with
   Christ; unless his mind be fully knit unto Christ, and it lasts in
   desires and thoughts of love--the which are certain and endlessly
   intent--and which thoughts, wherever he be, sitting or going, he
   meditates within himself without ceasing, desiring nothing but Christ's
   love; he else soothly receives not the heavenly sound, nor in ghostly
   song shall he sing JESU, nor His praise, in mind or mouth.

   Pride forsooth destroys many; when they trow they have done aught that
   others have not, anon they bear themselves before others, and they that
   are better than themselves they put behind. But, know it well, he
   himself knows not love that presumes to despise common nature in his
   brother; for he does wrong to his own condition that knows not his
   right in another. He that honours not the community of nature in his
   neighbour, defiles the law of man's fellowship.

   In this many men err from the love of God, nor know they how to come to
   His love because they study not to love their brother as they are
   bound. And soothly they either leave the sinner uncorrected, or if they
   correct or rebuke the sinner, with so great sharpness and fierceness
   they speak that oft they that they snib are made, by their words, worse
   than they are. Truly with meekness they should speak, that by sweet
   words they might win those that sharp correcting would make worse.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XXVI

   OF THE SIGHINGS, DESIRE, AND MEEKNESS OF A PERFECT LOVER: AND OF THE
   DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WORLDLY LOVE AND GODLY: AND ALSO OF MEDITATION

   The voice of the soul languishing with endless love bears the likeness
   of the seeker of His Maker, saying: Osculetur me osculo oris sui; that
   is to say: the Godhead might glad me with knitting me to His Son.'
   Therefore for love I long; because whom I love with all my mind I
   desire to see in His fairness. In the meanwhile, truly, in the labour
   and strife of my pilgrimage, I beseech He make me glad with sweetness
   of His love; and unto the time I can clearly see my Beloved, I shall
   think of His full sweet Name, holding it, joying, in my mind.

   And no marvel that he be glad thereof in this life that has lust ever
   to fulfill the desires of His Maker. Nothing is merrier than JESU to
   sing, nothing more delightful than JESU to hear. Hearing it truly
   mirths the mind; and song uplifts it. And truly, whiles I want this,
   sighing, and heavy as it were with hunger and thirst, think myself
   forsaken. Forsooth when I feel the halsing and kissing of my Love, with
   untold delight as it were I overflow; whom true lovers, for love only
   of His unmeasured goodness, set before all things. Coming therefore
   into me, He comes inshedding perfect love. My heart also He refreshes,
   giving continuance; He warms me, and also makes fat, all lettings to
   love putting away.

   Who then shall say that he must fall into stinking uncleanness of
   flesh, whom Christ has vouchsafed to fulfill with the sweetness of
   heavenly contemplation. Therefore henceforward it is sung: Laetabimur
   in te, memores uberum tuorum super vinnum. As who says: We desire to
   worship and joy in Thee; in Thy gladness we are merry, forsaking the
   lust and riches of worldly vanity, the which so beguile their lovers,
   that they know not the noy they suffer. And although we may not yet see
   Thy face, nevertheless so hotly we desire Thee, that though we should
   live for ever we should seek none other love.' For the longer we live
   the hotter we desire Thee, and the more joy we feel in Thy love, and
   painfully we hasten to Thee; for to Thy lovers noyous things pass, and
   mirth in ghostliness follows. That soul truly good JESU that loves
   Thee, would rather choose to suffer a horrible death than consent to
   any sin.

   Nor soothly does he love Christ perfectly that dreads any but Christ;
   whiles all things turn to good to God's lovers. Perfect love overcomes
   pain, and also threats, because it feels no dread of any creature; it
   puts away all pride, and meekly gives stead to ilk thing; whereof it is
   said: Recti diligunt te, that is: Righteous men love Thee.' The
   righteous are the meek, loving truly, forgetting nothing, and though
   they stand in high perfection they behave themselves most meekly in
   mind and deed. And so ilk true lover may say within himself; Ilk man
   passes me in despising the world, and hate of sin; in desire for the
   heavenly kingdom; in sweetness and heat of Christ's love, and brotherly
   charity: some flourish in virtue, some shine in miracles; some are
   raised by the gift of heavenly contemplation; and some seek the secrets
   of scripture. When I behold the worthy life of so many, methinks I am
   as right nought, and among all others lowest.

   Therefore the righteous flee full fast all earthly encumbrances, only
   drawing unto everlasting joys; in desire for all temporal things they
   greatly fail, and they rise with a high desire in God's love. And it is
   worthily said they love God; for going in the right way and the plain
   of shining charity, they seek nor savour nothing but Christ. To whose
   contraries it is said by the psalmist: Obsurentur oculi corum ne
   videant, et dorsum corum semper incurva; that is to say: Their eyes be
   dim that they see not, and their back bow thou always,' so that they
   only take heed to earthly things; everlasting putting behind. And
   therefore God's wrath is shed on them and righteous vengeance, with
   great fierceness of umbelapping torments. The righteous forsooth
   putting back all feignedness of heart, mouth, and deed, endeavour to
   joy without ceasing in the sight of God; and they bow themselves not to
   the love of void vanity, that, in their pilgrimage, they be not
   disturbed from the path of righteousness.

   He therefore that desires to please Christ will do nothing, for good
   nor ill, against Christ's will. Full horrible it is to go into the fire
   of hell; but more to be hated is it to will to have lust in sin,
   because of which he may lose Christ for evermore.

   Forsooth a soul parted from worldly vices, and sundered from venomous
   sweetness of the flesh; being given to heavenly desires, and as it were
   ravished, enjoys a marvellous mirth; because she feels now the gladness
   of the Beloved's love, so that she may contemplate more clearly, and
   desire more likingly. Also at this time the mouth of the Spouse and His
   sweetest kissing she asks, saying with voice: All earthly things are
   irksome to me: I feel the love of my Beloved; I taste the moisture of
   His marvellous comfort; busily I yearn after that sweetness so that I
   fail not, being put far from Him by temptation; Love makes me hardy to
   call Him that I love best, that He, comforting me and filling me, might
   kiss me with the kissing of His mouth.

   Truly the more I am lift from earthly thoughts, the more I feel the
   sweetness desired; the more fleshly desires are slakened, the truelier
   everlasting are kindled. I beseech He kiss me with the sweetness of His
   refreshing love, straitly halsing me by the kissing of His mouth so
   that I fail not, and putting grace in me that I may continually grow in
   love. As children are nourished with their mother's milk, so chosen
   souls, burning in love, are fed with heavenly delight, by the which
   they shall be brought to the sight of the everlasting clearness.

   Truly the delights of Christ's love are sweeter than all the delights
   of the world, and of fleshly savour. Forsooth all imaginations of
   fleshly lust and all plenteousness of worldly riches is but
   wretchedness and abomination in comparison with the least sweetness
   that is shed by God into a chosen soul. As great difference as is
   betwixt the sweetness of the highest plenty of worldly riches and the
   greatest need of worldly poverty, so infinitely more is it betwixt the
   sweetness of Thy love, my God, and the lust of worldly joy that fleshly
   men desire and go about, and in the which only they joy: for nought of
   Thy love they feel, in whom alone they should be glad.

   Ghostly gifts truly direct a devout soul to love burningly; to meditate
   sweetly; to contemplate highly; to pray devoutly, and praise worthily;
   to desire JESU only, to wash the mind from filth of sins; to slaken
   fleshly desires; and to despise all earthly things and to paint the
   wounds and Christ's cross in mind; and, with an unwearied desire, with
   desire to sigh for the sight of the most glorious Clearness.

   Such are the precious ointments with which a hallowed soul is best
   anointed and made fair with God's love.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XXVII

   OF TRUE MEEKNESS AND ADVERSITY: AND OF THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS: AND
   OF THE MANNER OF GHOSTLY PROFITING: AND OF THINKING ON CHRIST'S PASSION

   The very meek behold not other men's sins, but their own; and not their
   good deeds, but other men's they praise. The rejected truly do the
   reverse; for they see rather other men's sins than their own, and in
   comparison they count their own sins as little or none; but their good
   deeds--if any happen--they praise before all others, whose goodness
   they desire to lessen if they cannot fully destroy it.

   Two things have I been heavy to hear: one was when they praised me,
   wretched, whom I knew only as despised; another, when I saw my
   neighbour, the which I loved in God and for God, reproved or with
   slander backbitten. Nevertheless thou that forsakest the world and art
   busy to follow Christ in poverty, be busy to know thyself; for truly if
   thou forsakest the deeds and desires of the world, thou bindest thyself
   to suffer worldly diseases gladly for Christ, and truly to flee wealth
   strongly. If, forgetting, thou takest no heed to this, thou goest
   beguiled from Christ's love.

   Therefore marvel not though thou be noyed with divers and many
   temptations; for if thou withstand steadfastly, thou shalt be dearer
   and sweeter before God. Have in mind that God proves His own as gold is
   proved by fire. They truly that inwardly feel the sweetness of Christ's
   love, gladly halsing tribulation, seek not outward worldly solace. For
   the sweetness in mind of those truly loving Christ is so mickle that if
   the joys of the world were gathered together in one place, they were
   liever run to the wilderness than to once look thereon with the eye.
   And certain it is no marvel, for all worldly cheer seems to it
   heaviness rather than comfort.

   Soothly the soul that is wont to be visited with the joy of Christ's
   love, can not be fed with vain joy, whose heart is not parted from his
   Beloved, for he would sooner die than offend his Maker. And that thou
   mayest have this grace keep thy sins in thy mind as an example of
   penitence and be busy to follow saints' lives; so that thou a sinner,
   yet turned to God's service, may rise to hope by sinners raised to
   heaven, and by the ransacking of the lives of righteous men refrain
   thyself from all pride. Truly by mind of a holier thing is the holy
   man's mind meeked; for whose life soever thou findest written or
   hearest told, alway trust it without comparison better than thine.

   Such truly are called Christ's lovers that for His name receive sharp
   adversity from the world, and despise prosperity and vainglory. They
   are fulfilled with despisings, reproofs, and slanders, and in their
   praising they are punished, the which for God live solitary in this
   world, and dying are taken up to the company of angels in heaven.

   Truly I fled into the wilderness because I could not accord with men;
   for sickerly they oft let me from joy, and because I did not as they
   did, they put error and indignation upon me; and therefore I have found
   sorrow and tribulation, but I have ay worshipped the Name of our Lord.

   Therefore that we fail not in temptation let us study to be weary of
   all earthly comforts, and constantly to keep in mind the crown of
   eternal joy, that being found waking we may receive the bliss promised.
   In the meantime also use we such rule that fleshly desires may be
   utterly restrained and worldly covetousness wisely forsake the heart,
   so that the body may alway stand stable and strong in God's service.

   He truly that for Jesu's love forsakes all things, and leaves the
   having of his will, and abides steadfast and profiting, says with joy,
   I have found that my soul loves.' Christ is truly found in the heart
   when the heat of endless love is felt in it, the which covets to be
   sought without feigning. Christ certain alights in a soul with honey
   sweetness and ghostly song, so that he that has this joy may boldly
   say: I have found my Love.' Whosoever, truly, whiles he prays, sees his
   mind raised high, yea lift up above this bodily heaven, if he fail not
   but alway more and more desires to savour everlasting things, may
   therefore merrily abide the meekness of Christ; for within a few years
   he shall feel himself ravished to behold glorious things. Wherefore
   with meek heart, he shall not cease advancing in profit unto the time
   he comes to the fellowship of everlasting rest.

   If the eye of thy heart be ravished in prayer to behold heavenly
   things, then full near is it that thy soul, passing earthly things, be
   made perfect in Christ's love. He soothly that in praying is not yet
   raised to behold heavenly things, must not cease discreetly to
   meditate, pray, and wake, unto the time he may perceive higher joys; so
   that he, lying on the earth, be not despised with griefs and diseases.

   Egredimini filiae Syon et videte regem Salomonem in diademate. That is
   to say: Go forth ye souls renewed, and understand Christ truly, put to
   death for your health. Behold Him, and ye shall see His godly head with
   thorns crowned; His face bespat; His full fair eyes wan by pain; His
   back scourged; His breast hurt; His worthy hands thirled; His sweetest
   side with a spear wounded; His feet nailed through, and wounds set
   through all His soft flesh; as it is written: From the sole of His foot
   to the crown of His head there is no health in Him.'

   Go forth, therefore, from your unlawful desires and see what Christ has
   suffered for you; that your sins be altogether cast out, and your
   hearts be taught the burning of love.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XXVIII

   THAT A TRUE LOVER DESPISES WORLDLY THINGS AND DESIRES HEAVENLY: AND OF
   THE HATING OF PRIDE, AND HALSING OF MEEKNESS

   Behold, thou wretched little man, how in the liking of fleshly lust the
   cruelty of endless damnation sleeps. Therefore thou oughtest to
   gainstand them that are busy to destroy those things--that is to say
   virtues--that Christ desires. Thy heart, truly, must empty out all
   desire for all kinds of passing vanity before it can burn with Christ's
   love. For the mind burning with Christ's spirit is fed only with the
   love of endless things, and is gladdened in a joyful song.

   Truly if the sweetness of endless love be now biding in thy soul,
   withouten doubt it destroys all wantonness of fleshly wickedness; and
   delighting thee in Christ, it suffers thee to feel nothing but Christ;
   for neither thou fallest from Him, nor feelest anything sweet but Him.
   Forsooth the perfect when they die are brought anon before God and set
   in the seats of blissful rest, for they see that Christ is God and
   enjoy Him.

   They that begin to love Christ, afterward in great joy of love and
   honeysweet burning shall not cease to sing full lovely songs to Jesu
   Christ. Truly no earthly thing pleases him that truly loves Christ, for
   by the greatness of love all passing things seem foul. With the bodily
   eyes fleshly things are seen, but the righteous behold heavenly things
   with a clean and meek heart: the which, enlightened by the flame of
   heavenly sight, feel themselves loosed from the burden of sin, and
   afterward they cease to sin in will; whose heart turned into fire
   halses in desire nothing earthly but always in busy to thirl high
   things.

   They that are sickerly ordained to holiness, in the beginning of their
   turning, for dread of God, forsake sins and worldly vanities: and then
   they set their flesh under strait penance, afterward setting Christ's
   love before all other, and feeling a delight in heavenly sweetness in
   devotion of mind they profit mickle. And so they pass from degree to
   degree and flourish with ghostly virtues; and so, made fair by grace,
   they come at last to the perfection that stands in heart, and word, and
   deed. Christ's love certain makes him that has swallowed it as it were
   dead to receive these outward things: he savours what is upward, he
   seeks that which is above, and nought that is on earth.

   No marvel the mind, sighing in desire of the heavenly kingdom, grows in
   love of the Spouse, and joying with gladness inshed bares itself from
   desire of earthly things; and fulfilled with the longing for true love
   tents with all his mind to see God in His fairness. Wherefore lightened
   with the flame of His love, it is busy only in His desire and seeks
   nothing but Him. Whiles a true soul, certain, desires burningly only
   the presence of the spouse, it is perfectly cooled from all wantonness
   of vainglory. For love therefore it longs, because it sets at nought
   all earthly things whiles it thus hies to endless joys.

   He that delights himself in Christ's love, and desires to have His
   comfort continually, not only covets not the solace of man, but also
   with great desire flees it, as if it were smoke that hurts his eyes.

   Like as the air is stricken by the sunbeam, and by the shining of his
   light is altogether shining; so a devout mind, enflamed with the fire
   of Christ's love and fulfilled with desire for the joys of heaven,
   seems all love, because it is altogether turned into another likeness;
   the substance abiding although it be wonderfully mirthed. For when the
   mind is kindled by the fire of the Holy Ghost, it is bared from all
   idleness and uncleanness, and it is made sweet with the spring of God's
   delight, alway contemplating and never failing; seeing not earthly
   things until it be glorified with the sight of the Lover.

   Truly it behoves us to eschew all pride and swelling of heart, for this
   it is that has cast sad men into great wretchedness. What is more
   shameful? What more worthy to be punished? It is great scorn truly, and
   plain abomination, that the foulest worm, the worst sinner, the lowest
   of men, sets about to make himself great on earth, for whom the highest
   King and Lord of Lords has liked so mickle to meek himself. It thou
   wilt clearly behold Christ's meekness, of whatsoever degree thou mayest
   be, how mickle soever the riches or virtues thou hast, thou shalt find
   in this no matter of pride but of despising thyself, and a cause of
   meekness.

   Thou therefore that despisest sinners, behold thyself, for thou makest
   thyself much worse than others; for truly God is more displeased with a
   proud righteous man than a meek sinner. When true meekness is set in
   thy mind, whatsoever thou doest well is done to the praise of thy
   Maker, so that despising thy virtue thou seekest His worship; that
   thou, being given to vanity, lose not thy meed everlasting.

   Think therefore on Jesu with thy heart's desire; pass thy prayer to
   Him; be not weary ever to seek Him; care for nothing but Him alone.

   Happy are the rich that have such a possession; and to have this
   forsake thou the vanities of the world; and He shall overcome thine
   enemy and bring thee to His kingdom. The fiend that noys thee shall be
   overcome; the flesh that grieves thee be made subject; the world that
   assays thee for to beguile, shall be despised, if thy heart cease not
   to seek Christ's love.

   The man truly sits not idle the which in mind cries to Christ although
   his tongue be still; for the body never rests in fleshy rest whiles the
   mind stints not to desire heavenly things; nor is he idle that is
   greedy ever to covet things everlasting. Truly the thoughts of Christ's
   lovers are swift in going up and harmonious in course; they will not be
   bound to passing things nor tied to fleshly contagion, but cease not to
   ascend until they have come to the heavens. For whiles the body is
   weary in Christ's service, ofttimes the spirit being uplifted is taken
   up to heavenly refreshment and the contemplation of God. He truly that
   prays devoutly has not his heart wavering among earthly things but
   raised to God in the heavens. He that desires to have that he prays,
   busily takes heed what he prays, for whom he prays and to what end he
   prays, and that he loves Him Whom he prays; lest a wretch, asking
   reward from this life, be beguiled.

   Saints forsooth have so great meekness that they think they know
   nought, and think themselves as those who say they do nought; they call
   themselves lowest of all and unworthiest, yea, like as them that they
   chastise with reproving. These, after God's commandment, rest in the
   lowest place, whose lowly sitting receives no reproof from God, but
   honour; not unthank nor loss of meed, but great and worthy worship, to
   the which meekness best disposes.

   Truly this meekness gives praise to Christ, noy to the fiend, and joy
   to God's people; it makes Christ's servant to love more burningly, to
   serve more devoutly, to praise more worthily; and makes him fuller of
   charity. The more that a man meeks himself the more he raises God's
   worship on high. He that truly perseveres in the love of God and of his
   neighbour, and yet thinks himself unworthier and lower than others, by
   meekness and knowledge of himself overcomes enemies, and conquers the
   love of the High Judge, and shall be received into endless joy by the
   angels when he passes from this light.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XXIX

   THE TEACHING OF THE BOISTEROUS AND UNTAUGHT, DESIRING TO LOVE: AND OF
   THE ESCHEWING OF WOMEN

   A true soul, the spouse of Jesus Christ, casts out pride, for deeply
   she loves meekness; she abhors vainglory, for desiring only everlasting
   mirth, she follows Christ; she hates fleshly liking and softness, for
   feeling before the sweetness of the everlasting honey, she desires
   alway to feel love for the loveliest. Evil wrath she has not, because
   she is ready to suffer all things for Christ's love. She knows not envy
   of others, for shining with true love she joys in ilk man's profit and
   health.

   Truly no man is envious but if he in truth be little and weens he be
   mickle, wherefore he raises slanders against others lest they be
   likened to him; or if any other among the people be called greater,
   fairer, or stronger, anon he is heavy, being touched with the venom of
   envy. But the soul the which is but a little kindled with heavenly
   contemplation can not seek that vainglory of slipping praise. Whereby
   it is plainly shown that men therefore have envy because they have not
   the love of God that is in ilk chosen soul. For where any are that love
   God, they truly desire the profit of their fellows as of themselves.

   If thou wilt therefore surpass in God's love thou hatest all earthly
   praising. The despisings of men and their scorns thou halsest for
   Christ, and strongly thou spreadest thy mind to get eternal joy. Rather
   choose with the rejected to feel the torment of fire in pain than
   common in sin with them. Certain he lives sicker that loves Christ
   burningly, and in the joy of His love sings lustily. It is more
   pleasing to him to fall into everlasting fire than once to sin deadly.
   Forsooth there are such saints, because they live in cleanness. They
   despise all earthly things, and from heat and ghostly gladness joying,
   they sing what before they said. They burn in the love of Christ; they
   study after heavenly sights; they are ever busy, as much as in them is,
   with good works; they overflow with the likings of everlasting life;
   and yet to themselves them seem most foul, and among others they think
   themselves the last and lowest.

   Therefore thou that art boisterous and untaught be busy to stand
   strongly against thy ghostly enemies, and to suffer no ill thought to
   rest in thy heart; and set thy wisdom against the waitings of the
   fiends. When an unclean imagination or thought, contrary to the purpose
   of thy mind, withstands thee, fail not but fight manly. Cry to Christ
   without ceasing, until thou be clad with God's armour. And if thou
   desire to follow the despisers of the world think not what thou
   forsakest but what thou despisest; with what desire thou offerest thy
   will to God; with how great desire of love thou presentest thy prayers;
   with how great heat for the sight of God thou longest to be joined to
   Him. If thou perfectly hate all sin; if thou desire nothing that
   passes; if thy soul refuses to be cheered with earthly solace; if thou
   savour to behold heavenly things and desire most God's Son; if thou
   speak mannerly and wisely, because he speaks not, except he be made,
   whose spirit is melted with the honey of God's love and the sweetness
   of the song of Jesu; behold by these, and other such, sometimes used,
   thou shalt come to perfection.

   No marvel God approves such a despiser of the world. Truly the soul
   that is both sweet with the shining of conscience, and fair with the
   charity of endless love, may be called Christ's garden; for she is
   cleansed from sins, flourishes with virtues and joys with the sweetness
   of high song, like as with songs of birds.

   Therefore set we all our mind to please and obey God, to serve and love
   Him, and in ilk good deed we do be we busy to come to God. What value
   is it to covet earthly things or to desire fleshly love? We can have
   nothing thereby that lasts but the Judge's wrath, that is to say
   everlasting pain. Soothly fleshly love stirs temptation and blinds the
   soul that she may not have perfect cleanness; it hides sins done, and
   it casts her down unwisely to new wickedness; it enflames to all cursed
   lusts; it disturbs all rest of the soul, and it lets, so that Christ
   may not be burningly loved; and wastes all virtue gotten before.

   Therefore he that covets to love Christ, let not the eye of his mind
   look to woman's love. Women if they love men are fond, because they
   know not to keep measure in loving; and truly when they are loved they
   prick full bitterly. They have one eye for waitings, and another for
   true sorrow; whose love distracts the wits, perverts and overturns
   reason, changes wisdom of mind to folly, withdraws the heart from God
   and makes the soul bond to fiends. And forsooth he that beholds a woman
   with fleshly love--although it be not with the will to fulfill
   lust--keeps not himself undefiled from unlawful movings or unclean
   thoughts, but ofttimes defiles himself with stinking filth; and,
   peradventure, he feels a liking for to do worse.

   Truly the beauty of women beguiles many men, through desire whereof the
   hearts of the righteous also are some time overturned, so that they
   that began in spirit end in the flesh. Therefore beware, and in the
   good beginning of thy conversation keep no speech with women's fairness
   lest receiving thereof the venomous sickness of lust for to proffer and
   fulfill foulness of mind, and being deceived knowingly and cowardly,
   thou be drawn away by the discomfits of thine enemies. Therefore flee
   women wisely and alway keep thy thoughts far from them, because, though
   a woman be good, yet the fiend by pricking and moving, and also by
   their cherishing beauty, thy will can be overmickle delighted in them,
   because of frailty of flesh.

   But if thou wouldst call again Christ's love without ceasing, and have
   Him with dread in thy sight in all places, I trow thou shouldest never
   be beguiled by the false cherishing of a woman; but truly the more that
   thou seest thou art assayed with false flatterings--if thou despise
   them as japes or trifles as they are--no marvel that thou shouldest
   have the more joy of God's love.

   Christ truly does marvellously in His lovers, the which, with a special
   and a perfect love He takes to Himself. Truly they desire not softness
   of the flesh or the beauty thereof; all worldly things they forget;
   they love not temporal prosperity nor dread the world's frowardness.
   They love full well to be by themselves that, without letting, they may
   fall into the gladness that they feel in God's love; full sweet they
   think it to suffer for Christ, and nothing hard. For he that wills
   worthily to honour the victory of martyrs, let him fulfill the devotion
   of virtue by the following of virtue. Let him hold the cause of the
   martyrs if that he suffer not the pain; let him keep patience, in which
   he shall have full victory.

   A soul truly forsaking the folly of ill love enters the way of strait
   life, in the which is felt the earnest of the sweetness of heavenly
   life: which, when she feels so comfortable that she overcomes all
   passing liking, she prays God that He would vouchsafe such comfort to
   give and refresh her ghostly, and that He would give the grace of
   continuance lest she fail, being made weary by divers errors.

   If a young man begin to do well let him ever think to continue; let him
   not sleep nor cease from his good purpose, but ay profit in mind,
   rising from less to more. Forsooth the shadow of error being forsaken,
   and the venomous sweetness of a wretched life despised, taking the
   strait life, he halses now the sweetness of full high devotion. And
   thus, as it were by degrees, he ascends to the height and contemplation
   of God by the gifts of the Holy Ghost; in the which heat of eternal
   love being rested and gladdened, he overflows with heavenly delights,
   as far as is lawful to mortal man.

   Certainly a good soul umbeset with many diseases, and noyed with the
   heat of temptation, can not feel the sweetness of God's love as it is
   in itself; nevertheless she is expert in the joy of love and in stable
   course draws to her Lover; and though the soul may want so wonderful
   sweetness, yet with so great desire she loves Christ that for His love
   only she shall perseveringly stand.

   But how mickle is His most kind help to be praised in which every true
   lover is expert; that it comforts all the sorry; makes sweet the
   forsaken; sets in peace the disturbed, and lays waste all distracting
   noise. The soul departed from the sins of the world, and withdrawn from
   fleshly desire, is purged of sin; and thereby she understands a
   sweetness of future mirth coming near to her, in which hope she is
   confirmed, and is sicker to have the kingdom. And in this life she
   gives to Christ a drink full likingly made of hot love, with greetings
   of ghostly gifts and with flowers of virtues, that Christ receives,
   pleased, who for love drank of the well of penance in this life.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XXX

   OF GOD'S PRIVY DOOM: AND THAT THEY THAT FALL AGAIN BE NOT DEEMED BY US:
   AND OF GREAT ARGUMENTS AGAINST PURCHASOURS

   But some are wont to ask how it can be that many that have led the
   hardest life and have utterly forsaken this world's joy, afterwards
   dread not to slide again into sin; and they shall not end in a good
   end.

   If we will not err let us be in peace from proudly deeming. To us it
   longs not to know God's privy doom: truly after this life all things as
   needs shall be shown. All the ways of our Lord's dooms are merry, that
   is to say true and righteous; for neither He reproves one withouten
   very right, nor another, withouten mercy that is righteous, He chooses
   unto life. Therefore we ought to consider, that the clothing of His
   clearness is as a groundless pit; wherefore we ought, whiles we are in
   this way, to dread, and in no wise to presume unwisely; for man wots
   not whether he be worthy wrath or love, or by what end he shall pass
   from this life. The good ought to dread that they fall not into ill;
   and the ill may trow that they can rise from their malice. Forsooth if
   they bide in their covetousness and their wickedness, in vain they hope
   themselves sicker of mercy, whiles their wickedness is not left; for
   sin, before it be forsaken, is never forgiven; nor yet then unless
   satisfaction be behight and that a sinner shirk not to fulfill it as
   soon as he can.

   But the mighty men and the worldly rich that ever hungrily burn in
   getting possessions of others, and by their goods and riches grow in
   earthly greatness and worldly power--buying with little money what,
   after this passing substance, was of great value--or have received in
   the service of kings or great lords great gifts, without meed, that
   they might have delights and lusts with honours: let them hear not me
   but Saint Job: Ducunt inquit in bonis dies suos et in puncto ad
   infernum descendent; that is to say: Their days they led in pleasure,
   and to hell they fall in a point.'

   Behold, in a point they lose all that they studied all their life to
   get; with these worldly wisdom has dwelt that, before God, is called
   folly, and fleshly wit, that is enmity to God, they knew. Therefore
   with mighty torments they shall suffer because knowing God they glorify
   not God but themselves and have vanished in their thoughts; calling
   themselves wise they are now made fools; and they, that have felt the
   joy and delight of this world, are come to the deepness of stinking
   hell.

   And yet forsooth among all that are bound with the vice of this world,
   in none, as I suppose, is less trust of salvation than of these the
   people call false purchasours. When they soothly have spent all their
   strength and youth in getting the possessions of another by wrong and
   law; and afterwards in age they rest, sickerly keeping that they with
   wrong have gotten. But because their conscience is feared, wickedness
   gives witness to condemnation only when they cease from cursed getting;
   they dread not to use other men's goods as if they were their own. For
   if they should restore all, full few should be left for themselves. And
   because they are proud they shame to beg; or they will not fall from
   their old honour, therefore they say they cannot dig or labour. Also,
   deceived by fiends, they choose rather to eschew worldly wretchedness
   that they may suffer the endless pain of hell everlastingly.

   Such forsooth whiles they have lordship in this world oppress the small
   by the power of their tyranny; forsooth to be raised into such melody
   of this exile is not a matter of dread to others but rather joy; for
   lest God's chosen should be such they are refrained by God, David being
   witness: Ne timueris cum dives factus fuerit homo, etc. When man is
   made rich dread not, nor when joy of his house is multiplied'; for when
   he dies he takes not all, nor his joy goes not with him; nor the drop
   of water, that is to say of mercy, comes not to the tongue of the rich
   man burning in hell. In his dying he loses all his joy, and only sin
   goes with him to the land of darkness, for the which he shall be
   punished withouten end.

   Explicit liber primus Incendii Amoris Ricardi Hampole heremite,
   translatus a latino in Angelicum, per fratrem Richardum Misyn
   heremitam, et ordinis carmelitarum, Ac sacre theologie bachalareum,
   Anno domini Millesimo ccccxxxv. </div3> <pb/> </div2>
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

BOOK II
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER I

   WHY THE PERFECT CONTEMPLATIVES TAKE NO HEED TO OUTWARD SONG, AND OF
   THEIR ERROR THAT REPROVE THEM: AND HOW TO PROFIT IN CONTEMPLATION

   Because in the kirk of God there are singers ordained in their degree,
   and set to praise God and to stir the people to devotion, some have
   come to me asking why I would not sing as other men when they have
   ofttimes seen me in the solemn masses. They weened forsooth I had done
   wrong, for ilk man, they say, is bound to sing bodily before his Maker,
   and yield music with his outward voice. I answered not thereof; for
   they knew not how I gave forth melody and a sweet voice to my Maker,
   but, because they could not understand by what way, they weened that no
   man might have ghostly song.

   Truly it is fondness to trow that a man, and especially he that is
   perfectly given to God's service, should not have a special gift from
   His love that many other men have not; but many trow this because in
   themselves they find none such. Therefore I have thought to show some
   manner of answer, and not fully give stead to the reprovers. How longs
   the life of other men to them whose manners, as they wot, in many
   things surpass their life, and are far higher in things that are
   unseen? Whether it is lawful to God to do what He will; or their sight
   is wicked and God is good? Nor will they bring God's rule under their
   measure, for are not all men God's? And whom He will, He takes; and
   whom He will, He forsakes; and to whom He will and when He will, He
   gives what pleases Him, to show the greatness of His Goodness?

   Therefore I trow they grumble and backbite because they would that
   others higher in devotion come down to them, and conform themselves in
   all things to their lowers, for they ween they be higher when they are
   far lower in merit. Therefore my soul has found boldness to open my
   music a little that is come to me by burning love; in which I sing
   before Jesu and sound notes of the greatest sweetness. Also the more
   they have stood up against me, because I fled the outward songs that
   are wont in the kirks, and the sweetness of the organ that is heard
   gladly by the people, only abiding among these either when the need of
   hearing mass--which elsewhere I could not hear--or the solemnity of the
   day asked it on account of the backbiting of the people.

   Truly I have desired to sit alone that I might take heed to Christ
   alone that had given to me ghostly song, in the which I might offer Him
   praises and prayers. They that reproved me trowed not this, and
   therefore they would have brought me to their manner; but I could not
   leave the grace of Christ and consent to fond men that knew me not
   within. Therefore I let them speak, and I did that that was to do after
   the state in the which God had set me.

   For this shall I say, thanking Christ's glory, that henceforward I no
   more fear others who be thus fond, nor that presume to deem proudly;
   for that I have done is not from feigning simulation, and being taken
   by imagination, as some say of me; and many therewith are beguiled that
   ween they have that they never received. But in truth an unseen joy has
   come to me and I have verily waxed warm within me with the fire of
   love; the which has taken my heart from these low things, so that,
   singing in Jesu, full far have I flown from outward melody to full
   inward.

   Whence I have hated filth, and cast out vanity of words, and have not
   taken meats in superfluity, nor have striven unwisely to govern myself;
   although it were said of me I was given to rich houses, and to be fed
   well and live in pleasures. But by God's working I had set my soul
   otherwise, so that I savoured things heavenly rather than sweetness of
   meats; and for this cause I have loved a certain wilderness, and I
   chose to live away from men, only speeding the needs of the body, and
   so soothly I received solace of Him that I loved.

   It is not to be trowed that in the beginning of his turning a man may
   run to the height of contemplative life or feel the sweetness thereof,
   when it is well known that contemplation is gotten in great time and
   with great labour, and is not given anon to every man, although it be
   had with all joy when it is gotten. Truly it is not in man's power to
   receive it, nor no man's labour however great is worthy it; but of the
   goodliness of God it is given to true lovers that have desired to love
   Christ above man's hoping.

   Yet many after penance have fallen from innocence, afterwards gliding
   into idleness and to the abomination of sinners, because they were not
   burning in charity; seldom and so thinly have they the sweetness of
   contemplation that they are too weak to stand when they are tempted; or
   else, being weary and loathing ghostly food, they desire worldly
   comfort among sinners.

   Truly to despise this world and desire the heavenly kingdom and desire
   Christ's love is full good; and, hating sin, to read busily or meditate
   on holy books. A devout soul being used and taught in these has a ready
   defence against the fiend's darts. It is truly to the devil's confusion
   when we spread God's word against all his temptations. Forsooth the
   sufferers, and bearers in patience of the burden and heat of
   temptation, suffer not themselves to be led into the love of deceitful
   sweetness; and after many tears and busy prayers they shall be enflamed
   with eternal love, and shall feel heat abiding in themselves withouten
   end, for in their meditation the fire shall wax warm.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER II

   THE TEACHING OF CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE IN PRAYING, MEDITATING, FASTING, AND
   WAKING: AND OF THE PROUD CONTEMPLATIVE: AND OF TRUE AND VERY GHOSTLY
   SONG

   Therefore one chosen and alway desiring love turns himself into his
   love; for he has neither worldly substance nor desires to have, but
   following Christ by wilful poverty lives content and paid by the alms
   of other men, whiles his conscience is clear and made sweet with
   heavenly savour. All his heart shall he shed forth in love of his
   Maker, and he shall labour to be enlightened by daily increase in high
   desires. Every man forsaking this world, if he desire to be enflamed
   with the fire of the Holy Ghost, must busily take tent not to wax slow
   in prayer and meditation. Soothly by these, with tears following and
   Christ favouring, the mind shall be gladdened; and being glad, shall be
   lift into contemplative life.

   The soul goes up into this height whiles soaring by excess it is taken
   up above itself, and heaven being open to the eye of the mind, it
   offers privy things to be beheld. But first truly it behoves to be
   exercised busily, and for not a few years, in praying and meditating,
   scarcely taking the needs of the body, so that it may be burning in
   fulfilling these; and, all feigning being cast out, it should not
   slacken day and night to seek and know God's love.

   And thus the Almighty Lover, strengthening His lover to love, shall
   raise him high above all earthly things and vicious strifes and vain
   thoughts, so that the wicked and dying flies of sin lose not the
   sweetness of the ointment of grace since dead, they become as nought.
   And henceforward God's love shall be so sweet to him, and shall be also
   moistened with sweetness most liking, and he shall feel nought but the
   solace of heavenly savour shed into him, and token of high holiness.
   Truly fed with this sweetness he desires ever to wake, inasmuch as he
   feels verily the heat of endless love burning his heart, nor goes it
   away, enlightening the mind with sweet mystery. And yet some others
   that men trowed had been holy had this heat in imagination only.
   Wherefore being not in truth but in shadow, when they are called to the
   wedding or the feast of Christ's espousals, they are not ashamed
   unworthily to challenge the first place. No marvel that in the
   righteous examination they shall go down with shame, and shall have the
   lower place. Of these truly it is said: Cadent a latere tuo mille, et
   decem milia a dextris tuis, that is to say: From thy side a thousand
   shall fall, and ten thousand from thy right hand.'

   But would God they knew themselves and that they would ransack their
   conscience; then should they not be presumptuous, nor making comparison
   with the deeds of their betters would they empride themselves. Truly
   the lover of the Godhead, whose inward parts are verily thirled with
   love of the unseen beauty and who joys with all the pith of his soul,
   is gladdened with most merry heat. Because he has continually given
   himself to constant devotion for God, when Christ wills, he shall
   receive--not of his own meed but of Christ's goodness--a holy sound
   sent from heaven, and thought and meditation shall be changed into
   song, and the mind shall bide in marvellous melody. Soothly it is the
   sweetness of angels that he has received into his soul; and the same
   praises, though it be not in the same words, he shall sing to God.

   Such as is the song of the angels so is the voice of this true lover;
   though it be not so great or perfect, for frailty of the flesh that yet
   cumbers the lover. He that knows this, knows also angels song, for both
   are of one kind here and in heaven. Tune pertains to song, not to the
   ditty that is sung. This praising and song is angels meat; by which
   also living men most hot in love are gladdened, singing in Jesu, now
   when they have received the doom of endless praise that is sung by the
   angels of God. It is written in the psalm: Panem angelorum manducavit
   homo, that is to say: Man has eaten angels bread.' And so nature is
   renewed and shall pass now into a godly joy and happy likeness, so that
   he shall be happy, sweet, godly, and songful, and shall feel in himself
   lust for everlasting love, and with great sweetness shall continually
   sing.

   Soothly it happens to such a lover what I have not found expressed in
   the writings of the doctors: that is, this song shall swell up in his
   mouth, and he shall sing his prayers with a ghostly symphony; and he
   shall be slow with his tongue, because of the great plenty of inward
   joy, tarrying in song and a singular music, so that that he was wont to
   say in an hour scarcely he may fulfill in half a day. Whilst he
   receives it soothly he shall sit alone, not singing with others nor
   reading psalms. I say not ilk man should do this, but he to whom it is
   given; and let him fulfill what he likes him, for he is led by the Holy
   Ghost, nor for men's words shall he turn from his life.

   In a clear heat certain shall he dwell, and in full sweet melody, shall
   he be lift up. The person of man shall he not accept; and therefore of
   some shall he be called a fool or churl because he praises God in
   joyful song. For the praise of God shall burst up from his whole heart,
   and his sweet voice shall reach on high; the which God's Majesty likes
   to hear.

   A fair visage has he whose fairness God desires, and keeps in himself
   the unmade wisdom. Wisdom truly is drawn from privy things, and the
   delight thereof is with the lovers of the everlasting; for she is not
   found in their souls that live sweetly in earth. She dwells in him of
   whom I spake, because he melts wholly in Christ's love and all his
   inward members cry to God. This cry is love and song, that a great
   voice raises to God's ears. It is also the desire of good, and the
   affection for virtue. His crying is outside of this world because his
   mind desires nothing but Christ. His soul within is all burnt with the
   fire of love, so that his heart is alight and burning, and nothing
   outward he does but that good may be expounded. God he praises in song,
   but yet in silence: not to men's ears but in God's sight he yields
   praises with a marvellous sweetness.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER III

   THAT GHOSTLY SONG ACCORDS NOT WITH BODILY: AND THE CAUSE AND THE ERROR
   OF GAINSAYERS. AND OF KNOWLEDGE INSHED OR INSPIRED; AND HOW IT DIFFERS
   FROM KNOWLEDGE GOTTEN BY LABOUR

   But in this every man raised in holiness may know that he has the song
   of which I spake: if he can not sustain the cry of singers unless his
   inward song be brought to mind, and he has glided, so to say, into
   outward. That among singers and readers some are distracted from their
   devotion is not from perfection but from unstableness of mind, because
   other men's words break and destroy their prayers; and this forsooth
   happens not to the perfect. They truly are so stabled that by no cry or
   noise or any other thing can they be distracted from prayer or thought,
   but only cut off by such from song. For truly this sweet ghostly song
   is specially worth because it is given to the most special. It accords
   not with outward song, the which in kirks and elsewhere are used. It
   discords mickle from all that is formed by man's outward voice to be
   heard with bodily ears; but among angels' tunes it has an acceptable
   melody, and by them that have known it, it is commended with marvel.

   See and understand and be not beguiled, for to you I have shown, to the
   honour of Almighty God and to your profit, why I fled strangers in the
   kirks, and for what cause I loved not to mingle with them, and desired
   not to hear organ players. Truly they gave me letting from songful
   sweetness, and made fail the full clear song. And therefore marvel not
   if I fled that that confused me; and in that I had been to blame, if I
   had not left what would have put me from so sweet song. Forsooth I had
   erred if I had done otherwise. But well I knew of whom I received it.
   Therefore I have alway conformed me to do His will, lest He should take
   from me, being unkind, that He gave to me kindly. I had great liking to
   sit in the wilderness that I might sing more sweetly far from noise;
   and with quickness of heart I might feel sweetest praise; the which
   doubtless I have received of His gift whom above all things I have
   wonderfully loved.

   Truly my heart has not yearned in bodily desire, nor have I conceived
   this comfortable song that I have sung, singing in Jesu, from a
   creature. Therefore love has brought me thereto, that I should not
   stand in the plight in which the unthrifty are cast down; but that I
   should be raised above the height of all seen things, and from heaven
   should be kindled and lightened to praise God, whose praising is not
   comely in the sinner's mouth.

   To whom therefore that loves not anything save one shall the window,
   unthirled by all, be opened; and no marvel it were although his nature
   were changed into nobility of worthiness unable to be told, and made
   clear and free; which noble clearness no man shall know in eternity
   that now knows not love, and in Christ feels sweetness.

   Nor doubtless ought I to cease from the best tried devotion because of
   backbiters that have cast evil biting into mind innocence; and I ought
   to cast all wickedness down, and love them that stirred me to greater
   ill; and thereof grace shall have been increased to the lover whiles he
   has not taken heed to words wavering in the wind, but with a perfect
   heart shall spread himself forth to his love, and unwearily pursue his
   purpose.

   Herefore truly the desire for vanity is vanished and truthful love is
   risen in the mind, so that the soul of the lover shall not wax cold but
   shall remain in comfortable heat and the heart shall not be bruised
   from continual thought of his Beloved. Soothly in this steadfastness
   the excellence of love happens to a true lover, so that he shall be
   raised up to a fiery heaven and there shall be stirred to love more
   than may be spoken, and shall be more burned within himself than can be
   shown, and shall halse the degrees of grace. And hereof he has received
   and boldly say whatever he thinks; though before he were holden--or
   else were--a fool and unwise.

   But those taught by knowledge gotten, not inshed, and puffed up with
   folded arguments, in this are disdainful: saying where learned he? who
   read to him? For they trow not that the lovers of endless love might be
   taught by their inward master to speak better than they taught of men,
   that have studied at all times for vain honours.

   If in the old time the Holy Ghost inspired many, why should He not now
   take His lovers to contemplate the Joy of His Godhead? Some of this
   time are approved to be even to those of former times. I call not this
   approving men's allowance, for oft they err in their approving,
   choosing such as God despised and despising those God has chosen. But
   such I call allowed whom eternal love has pithily enflamed and the
   grace of the Holy Ghost inspires to all good; these are marked with the
   flower of all virtue, and continually sing in the love of God. And all
   that longs to the world's vain joy and the false honours of cursed and
   proud life they tread under the feet of their affections.

   No marvel that these are outcasts of men. But in the sight of God and
   the holy angels they are greatly commended; whose hearts are strong to
   suffer all adversity, nor will they be blown about by the wind of
   vanity. At the last they are borne to Christ with high holiness, when
   they that men chose and allowed are cast down in damnation and are
   drawn in torments to be punished with the fiends withouten end.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER IV

   OF THE EXCELLENCE OF GHOSTLY SONG: AND THAT IT NEITHER CAN BE SAID NOR
   WRITTEN, NOR RECEIVES ANY FELLOWSHIP: AND OF THE CHARITY OF SPIRITUAL
   SINGERS: AND THE PRIDE OF THEM THAT HAVE GOTTEN KNOWLEDGE

   Truly the lover of Almighty God is not raised in mind to see into high
   things withouten skill, and to sing the song of love that springs up in
   the soul, the which is ardently and openly burnt with the fire of love,
   and spread out in sweet devotion, abiding in songs that yield honey
   from our fairest Mediator. Therefore the singer is led into all mirth,
   and, the well of endless heat breaking forth in mirth, he is received
   into halsing and singular solace, and the lover is arrayed with the
   might of the most lovely passage and refreshed in sweet heat.

   He joys, truly glistening whiter than snow and redder than a rose; for
   he is kindled by God's fire, and going with clearness of conscience he
   is clad in white. Therefore he is taken up thereto above all others;
   for in his mind melody abides and sweet plenty of heat tarries; so that
   not only shall he offer a marrow offering in himself and pay Christ
   praise in ghostly music, but also he shall stir others to love, so that
   they hie to give themselves devoutly and perfectly to God; the which
   vouchsafes to make glad His lovers, cleaving to Him with all their
   heart, in this exile also. This delight, certain, which he has tasted
   in loving Jesu, passes all wit and feeling. Truly I can not tell a
   little point of this joy, for who can tell an untold heat? Who lay bare
   an infinite sweetness? Certain if I would speak of this joy unable to
   be told, it seems to me as if I should teem the sea by drops, and spar
   it all in a little hole of the earth. And no marvel though I, the which
   scarcely tastes one drop of that same excellence, can not open to you
   the unmeasuredness of that eternal sweetness, nor that ye that are
   boisterous in wit and distracted by fleshly thoughts can not receive
   it; even although ye were full wise of wit and given to God's services.

   Nevertheless if ye were alway busy to savour heavenly things, and if ye
   studied to be enflamed with God's love, withouten doubt there should
   come into you plenteously the liking of that love, the which fulfilling
   all penetrable parts of thy mind shall drop a wonderful sweetness into
   it. Truly the fuller ye shall be of charity, the more able ye may
   suppose yourselves to be receivers of that joy. The nearer truly to God
   shall they be endlessly that in this time have the more burningly and
   sweetly loved Him. They, certain, that are empty of God's love are
   fulfilled with worldly filth; and so being drawn to vain tales, they
   seek the delights in outward things that show, forgetting inward goods:
   whose height is hidden from mortal eye, whiles they in mind fall under
   worldly solace, even in their rising they vanish from a glorious
   perpetuity.

   Therefore it seems that in the time to come covetousness shall be
   exiled and charity certainly reign. Contrarily, in this life it is
   wrought by many, forsooth by nearly all, that covetousness is brought
   in--yes into the King's hall; and charity, as if it were consenting to
   treason, is prisoned and cast out of the kingdom into exile. But yet it
   has found a dwelling place in the hearts of God's chosen. It goes from
   the proud and rests in the meek.

   Many wretches are beguiled; the which feign to themselves to love God
   when they love Him not, trowing that they may be occupied with worldly
   needs and yet truly enjoy the love of Jesu Christ with sweetness. And
   they trow they may run about the world, and be contemplative; the which
   they that fervently love God and have gone into contemplative life
   deemed impossible. But being ignorant and not imbued with heavenly
   wisdom but puffed up with the knowledge that they have gotten they
   suppose wrongly concerning themselves; and they know not as yet how to
   hold God with love.

   Therefore I cry and with desire I say: Salvum me fac Deus, quoniam
   defecit sanctus, that is to say: Lord make me safe, for thy saint is
   wanting.' The true lover fails: the voice of singers is at peace; there
   appears no heat in true lovers; ilk man goes in his evil way, and the
   wretchedness he has conceived in heart he ceases not to bring to deed.
   They waste their days in vanity and their years in haste. Alas the fire
   of desire has swallowed up the young man and maiden, the suckling also
   together with the old man.

   O good Jesu, it is full good to me to be drawn to Thee, for my soul
   shall not come into their counsel but sitting all alone to Thee shall I
   sing. The whiles Thou art praised thou waxest sweet, so that it is not
   hard but full sweet to continually praise Thee; not bitter but merrier
   than to be fulfilled with all bodily and worldly delights. Delectable
   and desirable it is to be in Thy praise; for no marvel is it that all
   that is dight with so great love savours full sweet.

   The lover also burning in this unbodily halsing, his wickedness being
   cleansed, and all his thoughts that go not unto this end vanished, and
   desiring to see his Beloved with his ghostly eye, has raised a cry to
   his Maker, bursting forth from the inner marrow of his affectuous love,
   as if he would cry from afar. He lifts up his inward voice, the which
   is not found but in the lover most burning; as far as is lawful in this
   way. Here I cease: for, because of the unwit and boisterousness of mind
   understanding, I can not describe this cry, nor yet how mickle it is or
   how merry to think, feel, bear; though I might in my measure. But to
   you I could not tell it, nor can not, for I know not how to overcome my
   wits except that I will say this cry is ghostly song.

   Who therefore shall sing to me the ditty of my song and the joys of my
   desire, with burning of love and heat of my young age, that from songs
   of fellowly charity I might ransack my substance, and the measure of
   sweetness in which I was holden worthy might be known to me; if
   peradventure I might find myself exempted from unhappiness. And I
   presume not to say that by myself, because I have not yet found that I
   desire after so that I might rest with sweetness in the solace of my
   fellows. If forsooth I deemed that cry or song is alway hid from bodily
   ears--and that dare I well say--would God that I might find a man
   author of that melody the which, though not in word yet in writing,
   should sing me my joy, and should draw out notes of love in singing and
   joying in spirit, the which, in the Name most worthy, I shamed not to
   say before my love. This one truly should be lovelier to me than gold;
   and all precious things that are to be had in this exile are not like
   to him. Beauty of virtue dwells with him and the secrets of love he
   perfectly ransacks. I would love him truly as my heart, nor is there
   aught that I would hide from him; for he shall show me the ghostly song
   that I desire to understand, and shall clearly unfold the melody of my
   mirth. In which unfolding I shall the more joy, or else quicklier sing,
   because the burning of love shall be shown to me, and songful joy shall
   shine before me; also my clamorous thought shall not glide without a
   praiser, nor shall I labour thus in doubt. Now truly the longings of
   this heavisom exile cast me down, and heaviness grieving me scarcely
   suffers me to stand. And when within with unwrought heat I wax warm,
   without I lurk as it were wan and unhappy and without light.

   O my God, to whom I offer devotion without feigning, wilt Thou not
   think on me in Thy mercy? A wretch I am; therefore I need Thy mercy.
   And wilt Thou not raise into light the longing that binds me, that I
   may fitly have that I desire; and the labour in which I am heavy
   because I trespassed, Thou shalt change into a honey sweet mansion, so
   that melody may last where heaviness was; and that I may see my Love in
   His beauty, whom I desire, and worship Him endlessly, held by His
   touch, for after Him I long.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER V

   THE MEDITATION OF THE LOVER IN HIS LOVE: AND THE FORSAKING OF
   FELLOWSHIP: AND HOW IN ORDER IT COMES TO THE FLAME OF LOVE

   O Jesu, when with rejoicing, I burn in Thee, and busily the heat of
   love comes in so that I should halse Thee fully, O most lovely; but I
   am borne back, Thou sweetest one, from that I love and desire. Moreover
   griefs happen, and the waste wilderness forbars the way, and suffers
   not the habitations of the lovers to be builded in one. But would to
   God Thou hadst shown me a fellow in the way, that with his stirrings my
   heaviness might have been gladdened and the bond of sighing unloosed;
   if it were not forthwith cut in sunder by Thy sweet scythe, so sorely
   it would strain that it might gar the lover go forth from the close of
   the flesh for the greatness of love and be cast down before Thy
   Majesty.

   In the meantime, certain, joying in hymns of praise, sweetly should I
   have rested with my fellow that Thou hadst given me, and in good
   speech, withouten strife, we should have been glad. Truly feasting
   together in the mirth of love we would sing lovely songs, until we be
   led from this outward and cumbrous prison and brought into the inward
   dwelling place, at the same time, receiving by lot a seat among the
   heavenly citizens that loved Christ in one manner and one measure.

   Alas what shall I do? How long shall I suffer delay? To whom shall I
   flee that I may happily enjoy that I desire? Needy am I and hungry,
   noyed and diseased, wounded and discoloured for the absence of my love;
   for love hurts me, and hope that is put back chastises my soul.
   Therefore the cry of the heart goes up, and amongst the heavenly
   citizens a songly thought runs desiring to be lifted up to the ear of
   the most High. And when it comes there it proffers its errand and says:

   O my love! O my honey! O my harp! O my psaltry and daily song! When
   shalt Thou help my heaviness? O my heart's rose, when shalt Thou come
   to me and take with Thee my spirit? Truly Thou seest that I am wounded
   to the quick with Thy fair beauty, and the longing relaxes not but
   grows more and more, and the penalties here present cast me down, and
   prick me to go to Thee, of whom only I trow I shall see solace and
   remedy. But who meanwhile shall sing me the end of my grief and the end
   of mine unrest? And who shall show to me the greatness of my joy and
   the fulfilling of my song, that from this I might take comfort and sing
   with gladness, for I should know the end of mine unhappiness and that
   joy were near? Herefore an excellent song I shall sing and my cry and
   voice shall soften the hardness of my Beloved also. If He should
   chastise He should slake, but punishing gradually, He shall not ay
   laugh at the pains of the innocent.

   And herefore I can be called happy, and have withouten end the merriest
   draught of love, withouten all uncleanness; and, all griefs being
   cleansed away, may stand in perfectness of joy and holiness, singing
   worship with a heavenly symphony; when, truly, amid these needy
   diseases, the burning of sweet love has mirthed my mind within my
   secret soul as it were with music, and the sweet honeyed memory of
   Jesu; so that I, greatly gladdened in the song the which I received
   from heaven, should not feel the venomous sweetness of unworthy
   love--the which those that flourish in beauty of the flesh think full
   sweet--nor should this sturdy earthliness hold me.

   O fairest and most lovely in Thy beauty, have mind that for Thy sake I
   dread not worldly power; and have mind also that I would cleave to
   Thee. All love that unwisely cherishes I have cast out, and I have fled
   all things that let to love Thee, God; and fleeting fairness that makes
   men bond and send women to malice, nor has it liked me to enjoy plays
   of youth, that by uncleanness make worthy souls subject to bondage of
   folly.

   Henceforth I ceased not to give Thee my heart, touched by desire; and
   Thou hast withholden it so that it should not flow into divers lewdness
   of concupiscence and lust, and Thou hast put in me the mind of Thy
   Name, and hast opened to mine eyes the window of contemplation. To Thee
   at last devoted I have run in ghostly song; but first my heart waxed
   warm with the fire of love, and lovely ditties rose up within me.

   If thou puttest not these things from Thy sight, the mickleness of Thy
   pity should move Thee; by the which Thou sufferest not Thy lovers to be
   taken too mickle into coldness: and I trow Thou wouldest lessen my
   wretchedness, and Thou wouldest not turn Thy face from my longing.

   Sorrow certain and wretchedness stand in the body; longing soothly
   abides in the soul, until the time Thou givest that I have desired with
   so great heat; through love of which my flesh is made lean and foul
   among the beauteous of this life. And from the inflowing of it my soul
   has languished to see Thee whom she has burningly desired: and that in
   those seats she might be the secret heaven, and rest with the
   fellowship that she desired; and after be taken up where, among angel
   signers, she may worship Thee perfectly with love, withouten end.

   Behold, mine inward parts have seethed up and the flame of charity has
   wasted the gathering of my heart that I have hated, and has put by the
   slippery gladness of worldly friendship; and also thoughts that were
   foul and to be held abominable it has drawn out. And so without
   feigning I have risen to mannerly love, that before had slept in divers
   outrays of mine errors and umbelapped with darkness; there with liking
   I felt the lust of devotion sweetest where I sorrow more to have
   trespassed. My friends I pray you hear that no man beguile you!

   These, and other such words in the sight of our Maker, burst up from
   the fire of love; and no man that is strange to this unmeasured love
   should dare to use such words the which is yet disturbed with
   temptation to void and unprofitable thoughts, and that has not his mind
   continually with Christ without gainturning, or is stirred affectously
   in any manner about any creature: so that all the movements of his
   heart go not to God because he feels himself bound to earthly
   affection.

   Full high is he in charity whose heart has sung these ditties of love,
   and, hid in ghostly feasting, beholds not outward fondness. Forsooth
   marvellously cheered with eternal desires, he raises himself to heaven
   by contemplation: from whence he burns with sweetest love, and is
   moistened by a draught from the heavenly passage; and is umbeset and
   truly transformed with the heat of the happiness to come, so that he
   shall eschew all temptation and is set in the height of contemplative
   life. And henceforward so continuing in ghostly song in Christ's praise
   he is glorified.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VI

   OF DIVERS GIFTS OF GOD'S CHOSEN: AND HOW SAINTS COME TO LOVE IN
   PRAYING, MEDITATING, LOVING, SUFFERING, ADVERSITY AND HATING VICE, AND
   THAT LOVE COMES FROM GOD AND THAT HIS LOVE IS NECESSARY, AND THAT TRUE
   LOVERS FALL NOT BY TEMPTATIONS OF THE FLESH, AS OTHER IMPERFECT ONES:
   NOR ARE HURT BY THE DREGS OF SIN ALTHOUGH THEY LAST.

   The chosen truly that are fulfilled with love, and take more heed in
   mind to loving than to aught else, have wonderfully shown to us the
   secrets of lovers the which, surpassing in fervour and supernaturally,
   have received the fire of love, and with a wonderful desire have
   yearned after their Beloved Jesu. Divers gifts truly are disposed to
   God's lovers: some are chosen to do; some to teach; some to love.
   Nevertheless all the holy covet one thing and run to one life, but by
   divers paths: for everyone chosen goes to the kingdom of bliss by that
   way of virtue in the which he is most used. And if that virtue in which
   he surpasses more burningly draws him to the sweetness of God's love,
   the which is supposed stronger in the most rest, truly when he shall
   come to God, he receives for meed that dwelling-place of heavenly joy
   and the seat that Christ has ordained to be had withouten end by the
   most perfect lovers.

   The lover therefore says the glorious ditties of love he has made; and
   he that is surpassingly chosen to God's love, first he cares and
   desires that his heart never depart from his Beloved; so that the
   memory of Jesu be to him as melody of music at a feast and is sweeter
   in his mouth than honey or the honeycomb. But the longer he exercises
   himself in ghostly study the sweeter to him it is. And then it
   withdraws his mind from vain and evil thoughts, and binds it to the
   desires of his Maker, and altogether gathers it into Christ and it is
   stabled in Him, the Well of love. So that he loves Him only, and he
   prays that he may be glad only in Him.

   Now sweet affections come into his soul, and wonderful meditations
   favourable only to God, the which being tasted, and spread in this mind
   with intentness, affect her more than may be spoken; they lead with
   great liking and sweetness of spirit to the contemplation of heavenly
   things, and they cleanse from desire of worldly solace. So that God's
   lover seeks nothing in this world but that he may be in the wilderness,
   and only takes heed to the likings of his Maker. Afterward truly
   strongly and well used in praying, and given to high rest in
   meditation, killing all wickedness and uncleanness, and taking a strait
   way with discretion, he greatly profits in the virtue of everlasting
   love. And his affection goes up on high, so that the entrance is
   opened, in the beholding of heavenly mysteries, to the eye of his mind.
   The burning also, which before he felt not, begins to kindle his soul,
   and whiles he is profitably occupied in that, now quicklier and now
   more slowly it warms--as this corruptible body suffers the soul that it
   heavies, and ofttimes with divers heaviness down casts. So that the
   same soul anointed with heavenly sweetness, and quickening with
   heavenly delight, cheers herself mickle to pass forth by good desire,
   and irks to dwell in this mortal flesh. Nevertheless she gladly suffers
   adversity that happens, for sweetly she rests in the joy of eternal
   love.

   And all these things that happen can not destroy that joyful song that
   she had received, made glad in Jesu, nay but the fiend's falsehoods fly
   away ineffectual; and the beguiling vanity of worldly honours goes in
   despite, nor is fleshly softness sought or loved. These things are
   armed against God's chosen so that all they that have their
   conversation in heaven might together fall, unavised, to their
   overturning.

   But it profits not to overcome them unless the holy Lover of God, in
   Christ's Name, resolute and as it were without strife, being glad says:
   Tu autem susecptor menus es: Lord, Thou art my taker,' that the
   malicious prickings of my froward enemies make me not unrestful. Gloria
   mea: my Joy, for in Thee is all my joy. Not in my virtue, for it is not
   sent save from Thee. Worthily is all given to Thee, nothing to me. Et
   exaltans caput meum: and my head,' that is to say the highest part of
   my soul by the which the netherer, Thee favouring, is governed. Lifting
   her up to ghostly song and contemplation Thou sufferest her not to be
   cast down or bound into the low and foul likings of this world. This
   soothly is the head that in the oil of ghostly gladness Thou hast made
   fat, that it should increase in charity and be to me a Calix inebrians:
   that is to say a drink of inward sweetness inebriating my soul with
   love of my Maker. And sleepy shall I lie, verily turned from love of
   temporal things; and so as it wee with sweetness, feeling nothing of
   earthly mirth or heaviness, I shall be led to the everlasting
   cleanness.

   Truly in this sweetness of high love the conscience shines. For
   cleanness lasts there, and the heart waxes likingly warm; and the mind,
   mirthed with gifts, waxes hot. Nor likes she to behold the pleasures of
   this exile, but she halses the bitterness of this world more gladly
   than the sweetness to follow; for enjoying the delights that fail not,
   she ceases not to cleave to the love of Jesu with such burning desire,
   that as soon and as lightly thou mightest turn the world upside down as
   call back her mind from her Saviour.

   All things forsooth she hates that are contrary to God's love; and she
   burns unweariedly to fulfill those things that she sees and knows are
   pleasing to God. This certain she would not leave for any pain or
   wretchedness, but would hie the quicklier to do God's will if she
   should perceive any hard thing she might offer for that cause. Nor
   truly does she think or desire any other thing but to love Christ
   truly, and to do His will in everything without ceasing.

   A mind that has received this burning will, in goodness from his
   Beloved, is made rich with devotion from God. Forsooth He chose her
   that she might be such a one that might abide Christ's perfect lover;
   and be a choice vessel that shall be filled with the noblest liquor of
   the sweetness of heavenly life. And His name which is chosen out of
   thousands shall continue in everlasting remembrance, and be ever
   withheld within the self in thought. And then by God's help she shall
   cast out all lettings to love and shall be glad in God. For the darts
   of our enemies shall not avail against such a lover, but she shall
   receive from her love sickerness of conscience, with untrowed cleanness
   of inward sweetness, and every hour shall yield up her spirit. For
   being in ghostly crying, she is friendlily cleansed every day by the
   burning of love, so that no filth of spiritual foulness may last.
   Whiles in continual thought she is with God, she casts out all
   wickedness that the malice of our enemy moves to; and the fire of love
   verily biding in her mind, it cleanses all the contagion of sin that is
   drawn out by an ungotten desire.

   Truly the affection set in a great height is so sicker that it is alway
   ware of negligence and casts it away as a deadly enemy; and whiles it
   lives it leaves not busyness and dread. For the better a man is, and
   the more acceptable to God, the more he burns in charity, and the more
   he is stirred by the prickings of love to work more busily and strongly
   that that belongs to his degree and life. And he is alway busy that the
   memory of his sweetest Beloved slide not from his thought for a minute,
   that not only as a clothing but as deed he may have and think of Him
   whom he knows he is bidden to love with all his heart. And he greatly
   dreads lest he be drawn into these things that the least grieve Him. He
   certain not only busies him with all his heart to fulfill that--as he
   is bidden--to love Christ; but also he is taken with great delight, so
   that he never forgets his Beloved nor bowing to temporal liking will
   part himself from His love--if he might withouten pain do that he
   would. He is truly expert that ghostly liking is sweeter than bodily
   love; and therefore it were marvel if he should slip into so great
   wrongs; and if, forsaking ghostly cheerfulness, he would make ready to
   rejoice in this feigned and as it were false felicity; or overcome by
   fleshly beauty, would desire that which forsooth ilk holy lover of God
   hates.

   No marvel that fleshly desire has beguiled some; and beauty shown to
   the sight has drawn away some wise and even devout men to unlawful
   halsing, because they were not perfectly grounded in charity, nor
   cleaved they alway to eternal love; wherefore haled by temptations,
   when they seemed to ascend, before they might come to height have
   fallen down.

   But a true lover of everlasting doubtless holds himself stable among
   temptations, and in that strife he wins a crown, when others,
   unsteadfast, are slain. And Christ's lovers cease not to cut away all
   obstacles, and they shed forth all their heart wholly before their
   Maker--and not as these that have not fastened their foot in love, and,
   cast down from the height of their endeavour, wax lean--but rather
   going on without change, stand stable in the well begun, and are
   nourished and brought forth in the sweetness of heavenly savour; that
   they may give light by example of holiness to them that are without,
   and within they may burn sweetly with the fire of love.

   Errors also of fleshly desire they shall slay by the desire of
   cleanness; although no man in this life can fully slaken engendered
   concupiscence, or be so perfect that he may live in flesh and never
   sin. And so neither by this nor that shall a perfect man be here
   perfectly healed, but in heaven where the light of joy comforts his
   wits to behold God; and everlasting peace shall discomfit and cast out
   griefs and heaviness, that now no grief of corruption be, now when
   everlasting bliss confirms the discomforter.

   In the meantime the mind is awakened and desires to be kindled by
   abiding love, and it studies to eschew the liking for these seen
   vanities. Truly the dregs of sin abide unto death, but they and the
   longing of nature perish in death. So that every chosen one, abling
   himself to love, and strengthened by high grace against these dregs,
   and armed with cleanness, should exercise himself in glorious battles,
   and should cast down all things that hostile lovers pursue.

   Herefore sickerly whiles the fighting one overcomes and is not overcome
   he is lift up to a marvellous mirth in which all his inward members
   joy. For he feels himself inspired by a mystery of love, and he ascends
   on high in honeysweet heat and contemplates with ghostly song the sweet
   praise shed forth to the lovers--hastening to death and to nothingness
   at the movings of the fleshly affections.

   Some add hereto: saying that a sweet thing sounds in his heart, and
   ghostly song, wherefore, thirsting, he is ravished and gladdened. But
   they have not expounded it so that I could understand how their thought
   was changed to song and melody abides in the mind; and in what manner
   of praising he sings his prayers.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VII

   THAT A TRUE LOVER ONLY LOVES HIS BELOVED: AND OF DOUBLE RAVISHINGS,
   THAT IS TO SAY OUT OF THE BODY, AND OUT OF THE LIFTING OF THE MIND INTO
   GOD; AND OF THE WORTHINESS THEREOF

   The heat of a longing spirit shows in himself a pure love for the
   fairness of God. For he seeks nothing but His Beloved, and all other
   desires he entirely slakens; and so the mind is freely borne into that
   it sweetly loves, and the bond of the lover's will is stably confirmed,
   whiles nothing happens that may let a lover from his purpose, nor that
   may gar him turn again to think of aught else; so that loving with
   great easiness he may receive his desire, and all tarrying being put
   back, may swiftly run to the halsing of love.

   Among these delights which he tastes--burning in so sweet love--he
   feels a heavenly secret inshed that no man yet may know but he that has
   received it; and he bears in himself the lectuary that moistens all
   joyful lovers in Jesu, and makes them happy so that they cease not to
   hie to sit in heavenly seats and endlessly to enjoy the love of their
   Maker. After that truly they earn while abiding in heavenly sights; and
   set on fire inwardly, all their innermost soul is gladdened with the
   playful shining of light; and they feel themselves made glad with
   merriest love, and wonderfully melted in joyful song.

   Therefore their thoughts are made sweet in His service because studying
   and meditating on scripture and also writing they think on their Love,
   and they go not from their wonted voice of praise. That forsooth shall
   be considered marvellous, when one mind shall fulfill and take heed to
   two things in one time: that is, it offers worship and love to Jesu in
   singing and joying in mind, and together with that, it understands that
   that is in books; and neither hurts the other.

   But this grace is not given generally and to all, but to a holy soul
   inbued with the holiest, in whom the excellence of love shines, and
   songs of love longing--Christ inspiring--commonly burst up, and being
   made now as it were a pipe of love, and joying sounds more goodly than
   can be said, in the sight of God. The which soul knowing the mystery of
   love, with a great cry ascends to his Love. In wit most sharp and wise,
   and in feeling subtle; not spread in the things of this world, but all
   gathered and set in one God, that he may serve Him in clearness of
   conscience and shining of soul, whom he has purposed to love and
   himself to give to Him.

   The clearer certain the love of a lover is the nearer and more present
   to him God is. And thereby he joys more clearly in God, and the more he
   feels of His sweet goodness, that is wont to inshed itself to lovers
   and to glide into the hearts of the meek with mirth beyond comparison.
   This forsooth is pure love: when desire of none other thing is mingled
   with it. Nor has he any inclination to the beauty of the bodily
   creature, but rather the sharpness of his mind being cleansed, is
   altogether stabled into the one desire of everlastingness; and with
   freeness of spirit he continually beholds heavenly things--as he that
   is ravished by the beauty of any whom he beholding cannot but love.

   But as it is shown ravishing is understood in two ways. One manner
   forsooth is when some man is ravished out of fleshly feeling, so that
   in the time of his ravishing he plainly feels nought in the flesh, nor
   what is done concerning his flesh; and yet he is not dead but quick,
   for the soul yet gives life to the body. And in this manner saints and
   the chosen are sometimes ravished to their profit and other men's
   learning; as Paul was ravished to the third heaven. And in this manner
   also sinners are ravished sometimes in a vision, that they may see the
   joys of the saints and the pains of the damned for their own and others
   correction; as we read of many.

   Another manner of ravishing there is, that is the lifting of the mind
   into God by contemplation. And this manner of ravishing is in all that
   are perfect lovers of God, and in none but in them that love God. And
   this is well called a ravishing, as the other, for it is done with a
   violence and as it were against nature; and truly it is above nature
   that of a foul sinner a child fulfilled with ghostly joy may be born
   unto God. This manner of ravishing is to be desired and to be loved.
   Truly Christ had ay the contemplation of God, but never the withdrawing
   from bodily governance.

   Therefore it is diverse to be rapt by love in the feeling of the flesh,
   and to be rapt from bodily feeling to a joyful or dreadful sight. That
   ravishing of love I hold best in which a man may earn most meed. To see
   heavenly things clearly belongs not to increase of meed, but to reward.

   They also are called ravished by love that are wholly and perfectly
   given to the desires of their Saviour, and worthily ascend to the
   height of contemplation. With wisdom unwrought are they enlightened,
   and are worthy to feel the heat of the undescried light, with whose
   fairness they are ravished.

   This truly happens to a devout soul when all her thoughts are ordered
   in God's love, and all waverings of mind pass into stableness. And now
   she neither wavers nor hovers, but with all desires brought into one
   and set in full great heat she desires after Christ; reaching out and
   given to Him as if there were nothing but these two, that is to say,
   Christ and the loving soul. To Him therefore she is tied with the band
   of love, unable to be loosed, and by surpassing of mind--flying above
   the bounds of the body--she draws a marvellous moisture from heaven. To
   which she would never have come unless she had been ravished by God's
   grace from inward affections, and set in ghostly height; in which, no
   marvel, she receives healthful gifts of grace.

   Whiles therefore she thinks only of godly and heavenly things with a
   free heart, not compelled, and knowingly, she sees also her mind taken
   above all bodily and visible things, and changed into heavenly.
   Withouten doubt it is near that she may verily receive unto herself and
   feel the heat of love, and then be molten into ghostly song and the
   sweetness thereof. That truly shall follow from this ravishing to him
   that is chosen thereto; therefore this ravishing is great and
   wonderful. Truly as I suppose it passes all deeds of this life, for it
   is trowed a foretaste of everlasting sweetness. It passes also, unless
   I be beguiled, all other gifts that in this pilgrimage God gives to His
   saints for meed. In this truly they are worthy a higher place in heaven
   who hereby, in this life, have loved God more burningly and restfully.

   As to high rest, it is to be desired to seek and hold it. For in mickle
   business, or in unsteadfastness or wavering of mind, it is neither
   gotten nor holden. Therefore when any one is lift to this, he lives
   full of joy and virtue, and shall die in sicker sweetness; and after
   this life he shall be full worthy, and near to God among the companies
   of angels.

   In the meantime certain he has sweetness, heat, and ghostly song--on
   which I have before oft touched--and by these he serves God, and loving
   Him, cleaves to Him without parting. But since this corruptible body
   grieves the soul, and this worldly dwelling casts down our
   mind--thinking many things--therefore he sings not ay with such
   busyness, nor does the soul cry at all times with evenlike ghostly
   song. Sometimes; certain she feels more of heat and sweetness and she
   sings with difficulty, sometimes truly when heat is felt less she is
   ravished to song with great sweetness and busyness. Oft also with great
   mirth she flies and passes into ghostly song, and she knows also that
   the heat and sweetness of love are with her.

   Nevertheless heat is never without sweetness, although sometimes it is
   without ghostly song, the which also lets bodily song, and noise of
   chatterers makes it turn again into thought. In the wilderness they
   meet more clearly, for there the Loved speaks to the heart of the
   lover--as it were a shameful lover that halses not his Beloved before
   men nor kisses like a friend, but in common and as a stranger.

   Heavenly joy comes anon into a devout soul departed, sicker in mind and
   body, from worldly business, and desiring only to enjoy Christ's
   pleasance; and marvellously mirthing her, melody springs out to her,
   whose token she receives so that from henceforward she suffers not
   gladly any worldly sound.

   This is ghostly music that is unknown to all that are occupied with
   worldly business, lawful or unlawful. There is no man that has known
   this but he that has studied to take heed to God only.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VIII

   THE DESIRE OF A LOVER AFTER GOD IS SHOWN: AND THE CURSED LOVE OF THIS
   WORLD IS DECLARED BY MANY EXAMPLES: AND THAT THE MEMORY OF GOD ABIDES
   NOT IN LOVERS OF THE WORLD.

   O sweet Jesu I bind Thy love in me with a knot unable to be loosed,
   seeking the treasure that I desire, and longing I find, because I cease
   not to thirst for Thee. Therefore my sorrow vanishes as the wind, and
   my meed is ghostly song that no man sees. Mine inward nature is turned
   into sweet song, and I long to die for love. The greatness of the gifts
   delights me with light, and the tarrying of love punishes me with joy,
   whiles they come that receive me, and in receiving refresh.

   But those things want that my Beloved shall show to me, longing: they
   wound me, so that I languish, and they heal not yet my languor fully,
   but rather increase it; for love growing, languor is also increased.

   Sic defecit in dolore vita mea, et anni in gemitibus: thus fails my
   life in heaviness, and my years in lamenting; for from my love I am put
   back, and desire of death is withdrawn, and the medicine for wretches
   tarries; and in my crying I arise and say: Heu mihi, quia incolatus
   meus prolongatus est: 'Alas, my labour is lengthened! It is love that
   noys me; love that delights me; it chastises, because it that so mickle
   is loved is not forthwith given; it gladdens, for it refreshes with
   hope, and by this heat insheds untrowed comfort.

   Great longing soothly grows when through the joy of love the ditty of
   ghostly love is in the soul, and great heat gives increase to sweet
   love; and now nothing is so lawful as to think death, life. For the
   flower in which this thought is nourished can not have end, but the joy
   that continually waxes great in the lover, and that is thought a
   wonder, makes of death and melody all one. Truly when I draw nigh to
   death, the fullness of my blessedness, that Almighty God whom I love
   shall give to me, begins in me. Soothly my seat is ordained in the
   place where love cools not, nor may bow to slowness. His love certain
   my heart kindles because I can feel His fire, whereby the strength in
   my soul knows no grief whiles I am wholly strengthened in the solace of
   love.

   For love I faint, and I spend all my time in holy sighing; and that
   shall be no reproach to me before God's angels, for whose fellowship I
   burningly desire, and with whom also in strong hope I wait to be
   perfected. And the praise that gladdens a longer shall now relax, and
   the blissful sight that he desired and loved shall be openly shown with
   joy.

   But woe be ay to them whose days are slipped and passed in vanity, and
   their years with haste are perished withouten fruit of charity; that
   languish in unclean love and, for the fairness of corrupt flesh--that
   is but the covering of filth and corruption--are led withouten
   sweetness to death. Upon whom also is fallen the fire of wrath and
   covetousness, and they have not seen the sun of everlasting light.
   These, following their vanity, go into exile, having made themselves as
   vain as were those things that they have loved. Therefore when they
   shall be deemed they shall see Christ sharp and intolerable to their
   eyes because in this life they never felt Him sweet in their hearts.
   They truly that here feel Him sweet in themselves, doubtless shall see
   Him well cheered there. Such truly as we now are to Him, such a one
   shall He then appear to us; to a lover certain lovely and desirable,
   and to them that loved not, hateful and cruel. And yet this change is
   not on His part but on ours. He soothly is ay one and unchangeable, but
   every creature shall see Him as he is worthy to see. God truly shows
   Himself wilfully to ilk man as He will; and therefore He shall appear
   pleased to the righteous, and wroth to the unrighteous, in one and at
   the same little part of time.

   Truly the love of a reasonable soul so does that--be it good or be it
   ill--it shall be deemed after that it does. There is nothing so
   speedful to get everlasting joy as the love of Christ: nor nothing
   sooner brings to utter damnation as love of the world. Therefore
   everlasting love should enflame our minds, and cursed and hateful love
   of fleshly affections be put far out. May the sweetness of heavenly
   life moisten us, and it be not lawful to us to love the bitter
   sweetness of this life. For the gall of dragons, that is to say most
   cursed wickedness and bitterness of falsehood, is the wine of sinners,
   because drinking it they are so maddened that they see not what is to
   come to them; and venom of adders, that is killing shrewdness, is
   deadly drink to them, and they are unable to be healed for their malice
   is incorrigible.

   Truly this world has delights of wretchedness: riches of vanity:
   wounding flatterings: deadly likings: false pleasure: mad love: hateful
   darkness: in the beginning midday, and at the end night everlasting. It
   has also unsalted salt; savourless savour: foul beauty: horrible
   friendship: cherishing night: bitter honey and killing fruit. It has
   also a rose of stink; joy of lamentation: melody of heaviness: the
   praising of despite: the true drink of death: the array of abomination:
   the beguiling leader and the prince who casts down. It also has the gem
   of heaviness, and scornful praise: blackness of lilies: song of sorrow,
   and foul beauty: discording friendship and snow's blackness; solace
   forsaken: and a needy kingdom. It has a nightingale roaring more than a
   cow: a sweet voice withouten melody: a sheep clad in a fox's skin: and
   a dove madder than any wild beast.

   Flee we therefore bodily and worldly love, whose back has a prick
   although the face flatter; whose flower is anointed with gall, and the
   pap, though it be privily, bears adders whose savour cuts man's soul
   from God, and hath burns with the fire of hell; whose gold shall turn
   into mould, and shall shed forth the incense of fire of brimstone.

   Here is love without meekness, and full liking madness; the which
   suffers not the soul bound to it to be joined to the seats of the
   saints, or have delight in God's love. To them soothly that have their
   desire bowed to the love of these worldly creatures, it is heavy and
   seems a great burden to think of God, although the memory of Him be
   most sweet, and waxes marvellously sweet to the thinkers. If they begin
   to think on Him, anon He slides from their mind, and they turn to their
   old thoughts in which they full long have rested. They are bound
   certain with their evil custom, and angels food shall not savour to
   minds so sick and unclean, without great and long use of ghostly
   thought and the casting away of fleshly imaginations. They have certain
   the palate of their hearts with the fever of wicked love, wherefore
   they can not feel the sweetness of heavenly joy. Even if it happens
   good thoughts come into their minds, they bide not there; but the
   tokens of God's inspiration being straightway put out by the roots of
   evil, they go from ill to worse; and they fall the more damnably in
   that they consented not to that good with which they were touched.

   Thus they that are chosen and are utterly burned with the love of God
   and cleave to Christ without parting, if at any time ill thoughts
   should pluck their soul or do stress to enter, anon looking up to
   heaven, they cast them out, and slake them with the heat of their
   affection. And no marvel, because by good custom they raise themselves,
   so that they take no earthly thing, nor any other thing of venomed
   sweetness, in which they might have delight. Soothly he that lives in
   perfect charity feels no sin nor wicked lust, but rather joys in his
   God; and neither anger nor uncleanness heavies him.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER IX

   OF DIVERS FRIENDSHIPS OF GOOD AND ILL, AND IF THEY CAN BE LOOSED: OF
   THE SCARCENESS OF FRIENDSHIP OF MEN AND WOMEN: AND OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP,
   AND HOW THE CHOSEN JOY IN IT IN THIS LIFE: AND OF THE FOLLY OF SOME
   THAT ABSTAIN TOO MICKLE, OR ARE NAKED: AND OF FLESHLY FRIENDSHIP: AND
   THE ARRAY OF MEN AND WOMEN

   Friendship is the knitting of two wills, consenting to like things and
   dissenting to unlike; and this friendship can be betwix good and betwix
   evil, but by divers affections. It ought mostly to be betwix God and
   man's soul; the which is bound to conform her will to God's will in all
   things, so that what God wills she wills, and what God wills not
   neither she wills. Thus soothly shall full friendship be betwix them.

   But in human affections where true friendship is God forbid that the
   sundering of bodies should make the parting of souls, but rather the
   unloosed knot of cleaving friendship shall comfort the heaviness of
   bodily sundering, so that the friend shall think he is with his friend,
   whiles he sees the steadfastness of their will is unloosed. It is true
   friendship certain when a friend behaves him to his friend as to
   himself; when he thinks his friend is himself in another body; and he
   loves his friend for himself, and not for the profit that he trows he
   may have from him.

   But it is asked, if the one friend err whether shall friendship cease?
   Some say friendship is not perfect unless it be betwix them that are
   like in virtue; but how was that perfect that might be broken? The one
   erring is not now perfect, and so gradually it can go to nought; which
   is against reason in true friendship where a man is loved for himself
   and not for profit or liking.

   Soothly it is not necessary for friends that the one be changed on
   account of the changing of the other; but it is impossible that
   friendship--since it is virtue--be voided in any man without his
   changing. Wherefore it is not broken on account of the error of the
   one, but--and it be true friendship--it shall be the more busy to call
   him that erred back again. And thus it behoves that friendship by which
   he wills and gets good for his friend as for himself be called love;
   and, whiles they live, for no error can it be broken.

   Friendship certain is lightly loosed when that wherefore they should be
   loved is not found in the friends; that is to say when the friendship
   for which now the friends are loved is not profitable nor pleasing. And
   such friendship is feigned, for it can not last save whilst pleasure
   and profit bide. But that is the cause wherefore true friendship is not
   dissolved in friends whiles they live. Therefore true friendship is not
   broken whiles they are, but the one can be erring yet both live. And
   therefore though one err yet friendship lasts if it be true, because
   they love each other according to what they are--that is as they are
   good--and by that it behoves to be understood goodness not of manners
   but of nature.

   Nature truly gars a man seek him a true friend, for nature desires to
   keep kindness and faith. And it works nothing in vain. Wherefore that
   friendship that is natural shall not be loosed--nature being
   lasting--unless it be to the great wrong of nature that the nature
   loved gainstands; and that can nature in no wise do unless it be
   oppressed by corrupt manners. Therefore friendship that kindles
   anything that is not the same as that that is loved slakes, and is
   slakened when the things that stirred the love are not had; so that if
   by manners or riches or fairness friendship be had, with ill manners,
   sliding riches, and wasted fairness be had, with ill manners, sliding
   riches, and wasted fairness friendship vanishes also, and it is said of
   him that had it, there is nothing unhappier than to have been happy.

   But friendship that nature works in friends is cast out by no poverty,
   nor with any error done away, and with no foulness of body ended,
   whiles the nature lasts that is the cause of this friendship. Such
   friendship is purely natural and therefore it is worthy neither meed
   nor unmeed, unless it conflicts ought against God's commandments. It
   has also a great delight knit with it, in which it earns neither meed
   nor unthank. True friendship can not be without mutual liking betwix
   friends, and their speech is desirable and their cheer comfortable. And
   this friendship--if it be informed with God's grace and be altogether
   in God and if it be given to Him--so then it is called holy friendship
   and is full meedful. But if on account of this friendship anything be
   done by the friends against God's will, it is perverse and wrong and
   foul friendship, and unclean and unmeedful.

   I wot not soothly by what unhap it now befalls that scarcely or seldom
   is found a true friend. Ilk one seeks his own, and no man has a friend
   of whom he says, he is myself in another body. They bow to their own
   profits and likings and shame not to fulfill guile in their friends.
   Thereof it is deemed that they are not true friends but feigned,
   because they love not men but either they covet their goods or they
   strive after false flatteries and favours.

   Yet, forsooth, friendship betwix men and women may be perilous, for
   fair beauty lightly cherishes a frail soul, and temptation seen sets
   fleshly desire on fire and ofttimes brings in the sin of body and soul;
   and so the company of women with men is wont to happen to the
   destruction of virtue. And yet this friendship is not unlawful but
   meedful; if it be had with good soul, and if it be loved for God and
   not for the sweetness of the flesh.

   If women truly saw themselves despised by men, they would complain of
   God that made them such as men should disdain, and they would
   peradventure mistrust of health; for they trow themselves forsaken if
   they receive not the counsel or help of men. Reason certain is less
   quick in them, therefore they are lightly beguiled and soon overcome
   and therefore they mickle need the counsel of good men. They are drawn
   truly from ill to ill. For mickle readier are they to the likings of
   lust than to the clearness of holiness.

   There is also a natural love of man for woman and woman for man that
   wants to no man, not even the holy, for it was ordained by God first in
   nature; by the which being together, and according by the stirring of
   nature they are fellowly made glad. This love also has its pleasures;
   as in speech and honest touching and goodly dwelling together, by the
   which man gets no meed unless it be mingled with charity; nor gets he
   unthanks, unless it be defiled with sin. If ill movings arise by which
   they think of lust, and they go towards it, doubtless they are guilty
   of death, because they sin against God.

   Therefore they foully trespass that say that all our deeds, inward or
   outward, are meedful or unmeedful; for they would--or at the least they
   strive--to deny natural deeds and likings to be in us; and thus they
   are not ashamed to bring in confusion to noble nature.

   Certain, that friendship, and companionship of men and women is
   unlawful and forbidden in which they accord to fulfill all their desire
   of covetous and foul lust; and putting the everlasting behind they seek
   to flourish intemporal solace and bodily love. They also sin
   grievously, and most, that have taken holy orders and go to women as
   wooers, saying that they languish for their love, and nearly faint with
   great desire and strife of thought; and so they lead them, light and
   unstable, to wretchedness in this life, and also in the endless. But
   they shall not be left unpunished, for they bear their damnation with
   them; of whom it is said by the psalmist: Sepulcrum patens est guttur
   corum, etc. That is to say: Their throat is an open grave, with their
   tongues they have wrought falsely, deem them God.'

   God certain wills that women be not despised of men, nor be beguiled by
   vain flattery; but that they be taught truly and charitably in all
   holiness that longs to body and soul. But seldom is he found now that
   so does; but rather--what is to sorrowed for--either to get their gifts
   or their beauty they study to inform them. Wherefore ofttimes it
   happens that if they teach them in one thing, in another they destroy
   them; and they will not, or they dare not, forbid those things,
   although they be evil, that women please to use, so that they be not
   grieved.

   True friendship certain is the sadness of lovers, and comfort of minds;
   relief of grief, and putting out of worldly heaviness; reformation of
   sinners; increase of holiness; lessening of slander, and multiplying of
   good meed. While a friend is drawn from ill by his friend by healthful
   counsel and is inflamed to do good when he sees in his friend the grace
   that he desires to have. Holy friendship therefore that has medicine
   for all wretchedness is not to be despised. From God it truly is that
   amid the wretchedness of this exile we be comforted with the counsel
   and help of friends, until we come to Him. Where we shall all be taught
   of God, and sit in eternal seats; and we shall be glad without end in
   Him that we have loved, and in whom and by whom we have friends.

   From this friendship I can except no man, be he never so holy, but he
   needs it; unless there be any such to whom not man but angels serve.
   There are some that joy in God's love and are so moistened with His
   sweetness that they can say: Renuit consolari anima mea: My soul
   gainsays to be comforted' with worldly cheer with which worldly lovers
   refresh themselves. Nevertheless it behoves that in these things that,
   according to nature and grace, are needful to their body, and in men
   they be delighted. Who eats or drinks or takes recreation from heat or
   cold, withouten liking? Who has a friend, and in his presence and
   speech and dwelling with him and taking part in his good, is not glad?
   Sickerly none but the mad and they that want reason, for in these
   things and others like is the life of man comforted--although it be the
   holiest--and joys most quickly in God.

   Therefore, My soul gainsays to be comforted,' is not to be understood
   of such comfort, but of stinking and unclean and unlawful comfort of
   worldly things. And afterwards he said: Delectasti me domine in factura
   tua; et in operibus mannum tuarum exultabo. 'Lord in Thy work thou hast
   gladdened me; and in the work of Thy hands I shall be joyful.' Who
   denies that he shall receive comfort that says he is mirthed in God's
   works? Vir insipiens non cognoscet, et stultus non intelliget hoc. 'But
   the unwise man shall not know this nor a fool understand.'

   Some truly have the love of God, but not after knowledge; the which,
   whiles they study to put by superfluities are also unwisely led to cut
   away their necessities, supposing that they can not please God unless
   they chastise themselves by too mickle abstinence and unmeasured
   nakedness. And although paleness of face be the beauty of solitary man,
   nevertheless their service is not rightly ordered; for if they be
   hidden to chastise their bodies and bring them into the service of the
   spirit, yet ought they not to slay their bodies but keep them for the
   honour of God, to the time He sunders the soul from the body to which
   He has joined it. Therefore such are sharp to men and bitter in
   themselves, and they know not the keeping of friendship, nor keep the
   way thereof.

   Forsooth love of kinsmen, if it be unmannered, is called fleshly
   affection, and it is to be broken because it lets from God's love: and
   if it be mannered it is called natural, and lets not from God's
   service; for in that it is nature it works not against the Maker
   thereof.

   Next the women of our time are worthy of reproof that in such
   marvellous vanity have found new array for head and body, and have
   brought it in, so that they put beholders to both dread and wonder. Not
   only against the sentence of the apostle in gold and dressing of the
   hair, in pride and wantonness, they go serving, but also against the
   honesty of man and nature ordained by God, they set broad horns upon
   their heads, and a horrible greatness of wrought hair that grew not
   there, some of whom study to hide their foulness or increase their
   beauty and with painting of beguiling adultery they colour and whiten
   their faces. Newly carven clothing also both men and women use full
   fondly, not considering what beseems nature, but what tidings, that are
   newly noised, and vain novelties they can bring by the fiend's
   stirring.

   If any should snib such things--yea even full seldom--he is laughed to
   scorn; and they consider more a fond tale than their amends. Therefore
   they go, and are taken and also snared by those things--these ladies
   and women that are called worthy, that desire to be fair for a time,
   and everlasting to be foul. For after this joy they, that have not
   loved Christ in this life but the foulest vanity of this world, shall
   feel hell pain, having crowned themselves with roses before they
   withered. But let us pass now to other things.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER X

   THAT GOD'S LOVE IS TO BE MINGLED WITH ILK TIME AND DEED NOR FAILS NOT
   FOR WEAL OR WOE, AND OF THE WORTHINESS AND THE GAINING THEREOF: AND OF
   TEARS TURNED TO SONG

   Love of the Godhead that perfectly thirls a man, and truly enflames
   with fire of the Holy Ghost, takes the soul to itself with marvellous
   gladness and from memory of so great love allows her not to wander for
   a moment. It binds the mind of the lover, so that it may not turn to
   vain things; and he continually goes after his Love.

   We can forsooth if we be true lovers of our Lord Jesu Christ, think
   upon Him when we walk, and hold fast the song of His love whiles we sit
   in fellowship; and we may have mind of Him at the broad and also in
   tasting of meat and drink. At every morsel of meat and draught of drink
   we ought to praise God, and in time of our meat taking and the space
   betwixt morsels to yield Him praising with honey sweetness and a mental
   cry, and to yearn with desire while at meat. And if we be in labour of
   our hands what lets us to lift our hearts to heaven and without ceasing
   to hold the thought of endless love? And so in all time of our life,
   being quick and not slow, nothing but sleep shall put our hearts from
   Him.

   O what joy and gladness glides into the love? O with how happy and
   truly desireable sweetness it fulfills his soul? Love certain is life
   without end, abiding where it is set and made firm in Christ. When this
   love after loving desire is rooted in the heaven, neither prosperity
   nor adversity may change it, as the wisest men have written. Then no
   marvel it shall turn the night to day, darkness to light, heaviness to
   melody, noy to solace, and labour to sweet rest.

   This love truly is not of imagination or feigned, but true and perfect,
   and given to Christ without parting, yielding angel's song with melody
   to Jesu. And forsooth if thou love in this manner as I have said, full
   glorious shalt thou be--with the best and worthiest in the Kingdom of
   God--near to that quickening light. Meantime all the impugnations of
   the fiend's movings that arise from fleshly friendship and the coveting
   of worldly things thou shalt well overcome in the heat of love and
   virtue of prayer. Thou shalt also overcome the likings of fairness;
   showing that thou wilt not be defiled once on account of all things
   that can be thought. With that also thou shalt be filled with ghostly
   food, and the delight of endless love; so thou shalt know the sign in
   sickerness and as it were in very knowledge, that thou art the lover of
   the Everlasting King.

   Nevertheless this happens to no man unless either God says it to him,
   or that in this life he feels a great part of the meed to come biding
   in him. But whereto do I speak of them with the others, which although
   they be chosen have not yet tasted this holy lectuary? Sometimes I
   marvel at myself that I have spoken of the excellence of God's lovers,
   as who should say, whoever wills might come to it. And yet it is not
   for ilk runner nor willer, but of the lover, lifter up, and taker of
   Christ. The smallness of my mind certain knows not how to open that
   which as a blabberer, I am busy to show. Yet I am compelled to say
   somewhat, although it be unable to be spoken, that hearers or readers
   may study to follow it; finding that all love of the fairest and
   loveliest worldly thing, in comparison to God's love, is sorrow and
   wretchedness.

   Therefore consider and know well with your understanding that our Lord
   makes His lover marvellous and raises him on high and suffers him not
   to be cast down with unworthy love of vain hope, but keeps him stably
   in Himself for the sweetest love. Love truly is continual thought with
   great desire for the fair, the good and lovely: for if the thing I love
   be fair and not good, I show myself unworthy to love it, if it be good
   it is to be loved. Truly love of the creature, though it be good and
   fair, is forbidden to me, so that I should offer and keep all my love
   for the Well of goodness and fairness, that He that is my God and my
   Jesu be my Love. He only has fairness and goodness of Himself, and He
   is the same fairhead and goodness. Other things, whatever they be, are
   neither fair nor good but of Him, and the nearer to Him the fairer and
   better they are. Therefore He is most worthily loved that in Himself
   contains all things that are worthy to be loved and to be sought of a
   lover, wherefore He withholds nothing on His part save that He might be
   loved most burningly. Truly if I love aught else my conscience bites me
   that I love not right. I dread that that I love loves me not again; and
   yet if I dread not on this account I should be fearful on account of
   death that departs ill lovers and wastes all their vanity.

   Ofttimes also other noys happen that disturb the gayness and sweetness
   of lovers; but he that truly loves God with all his heart is so much
   the clearer in his conscience as he knows himself the more burning in
   the love of God. Therefore he knows his loveliest Love from whose
   sweetness death departs not, but when he passes from this world then he
   finds his Love perfectly, and to Him most sickerly is joined, so that
   never after shall he be put from Him, but busily he runs in merriest
   halsing and, openly seeing Him he has loved and coveted, shall be
   glorified without end.

   This love I liken to fire unslakened, the which no power of enemies can
   cast down, no softness of flattery can overcome. This love cleanses us
   from our sins, and burns in unmeasured heat the obstacles that might
   let to love, and in the hottest flame of God's love makes us clearer
   than gold and brighter than the sun. This love brings us ghostly
   medicine; and I suppose there is no thing among all others that can be
   numbered by clerks that may succour us so mickle and cleanse us and
   from all dregs of wickedness clear us, as fervent love of the Godhead
   and continual thought of our Maker. Tears are wont to wash us from
   defaults and heaviness of hearts puts by damnation, but burning love
   passes all other things more than can be thought, and makes man's soul
   shine most excellently. Therefore before all things that we can do it
   gets the heart of the Everlasting King, and is worthy to be
   contemplated in joyful song.

   I say not greeting is unprofitable, nor sorrow of heart uncomely or not
   to be loved in this exile, and I marvel that any so highly ravished in
   song of love can not greet in his devotion or praying or meditation.
   Rather I say that the prayer and meditation of such a lover is turned
   into song and molten into melody of heavenly sweetness, so that he
   gives the sound of angels rather than of man; anointed by which honied
   heat he is taken not to heaviness but to joy and, his tears as it were
   wiped away, he is mirthed in the spring of endless and true joy.

   Our doctors say: the perfect ought to weep, and the more perfect the
   more plenteous they should be of tears because of the wretchedness of
   this life and the delay of the heavenly life. To me certain a wonderful
   longing in God's love was near, and noy of bodily greeting has ceased
   for the greatness of inward sweetness. He certain that is not burned
   with endless love needs to be purged with tears. Love is enough to
   chastise him that languishes in everlasting love; there is no wound
   greater and sweeter than of love. If such a one forsooth would weep he
   is not greatly suffered in privy devotion, in that the Holy Ghost
   uprising him, he is rapt in mind, and with angel's sweetness he sings
   to God his praises and loving thoughts.

   The seat of love is lift on high for into the heavens it runs, and on
   earth also methinks it subtly and craftily makes men, sometime lovely,
   wan and pale. It makes them to wither that afterward they may wax
   green, and to fail that they may be strong. Therefore he draws near to
   the rest of endless joy, and dreadless himself, mingles with those
   singing to his Maker; for the more burningly he loves the sweeter he
   sings and the more delicious he feels that that he strongly desired.
   And if the way seem sharp and long to them that love not, love
   nevertheless couples God to man, and with short labour fulfills the
   abiders.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XI

   THAT PERFECT LOVE BINDS TO GOD WITHOUT LOOSING AND MAKES MAN MINDFUL OF
   HIS GOD; BUT LOVE OF THE WORLD FALLS TO NOUGHT. AND OF THE NATURE OF
   TRUE LOVE, STABLE AND AY-LASTING, SWEET, SOFT, AND PROFITABLE: AND OF
   FALSE LOVE; VENOMOUS, FOUL, AND UNCLEAN

   This work is perfect if we depart our minds pithily from love of
   creatures and join them truly to God without departing. And in this
   work the more perfect we be the better we are. This deed is above all
   others, for all that we do is referred to this end, so that we be
   knitted and oned perfectedly to God. And from this onehead many things
   draw; that is to say, liking beauty of this world, vanity of men and
   women, riches and honours, praise and favour of people. Therefore we
   must exercise ourselves to fulfill this work, putting back and
   forgetting all things that might let us.

   Certain the love to which we ascend in this work is quicker than a
   burning coal, and shall produce its effect in us, for it shall make our
   souls both burning and shining. This is the love that can not be
   beguiled by a creature or scorned in heaven nor put from meed. We could
   long suffer the flame of this fire if it should ay last in one measure;
   but ofttimes it is tempered, lest it waste nature that through the body
   corrupts and grieves the soul; for the corruptible flesh suffers not
   our mind to be continually borne to God.

   Certain the heat of very devotion is sometimes hindered as by sleep,
   and the misuse of the body or labour; and yet the burning is not
   slaked, but it is not felt as it was before. It comes again to us truly
   whiles we turn again to God, and makes us mend from sickness of mind
   and gives sweetness. It delivers the body also from many sicknesses,
   and whiles it keeps us in temperance and soberness it raises our souls
   to heavenly desires so that we have no delight in low things.

   This is the love that ravishes Christ into our hearts and makes our
   minds sweet, so that within we burst out in songs of praise, and as it
   were in spiritual music we sing. I suppose no delight he like to this,
   for it moistens with clear sweetness and gladdens with holy liking. The
   soul that receives it is purged with blessed fire and in it bides no
   rust nor filth, but it is altogether thirled with heavenly joy, so that
   our inward nature seems turned into godly joy and song of love. Thus
   forsooth everlasting love gladdens and insheds plenteous delight, so
   that the friends thereof are not compelled to bow to any desire for a
   creature of this world but they may freely melt in praise and love of
   Jesus Christ.

   Learn therefore to love thy Maker if thou desire to live when thou
   passest hence; so do that thou mayest love God in thy life if thou wilt
   live after thy death. Give all thy mind to Him that He may keep it from
   temporal and eternal sorrows. Beware that thy heart be not sundered
   from Him though thou be set in adversity or wretchedness; for so shalt
   thou be worthy to have Him with joy, and to love Him withouten end. If
   thou suffer not the memory of God to slip whether prosperity come or
   grief; in that certain thou showest thyself a true lover.

   O good Jesu, that gavest me life, lead me desiring into Thy love. Take
   unto Thee all mine intent so that Thou mayest be all my desire, nor
   nothing beyond Thee shall my heart desire. Sorrow certain and all
   heaviness would pass from me, and that I desire come to me, if my soul
   had received or heard the song of Thy praise. Thy love would ever
   unwearily bide in us, so that we can perceive it. Take therefore my
   mind into Thy power and make it stable that it come not to nought with
   vain and unprofitable fantasies, nor be scorned by errors, nor be bowed
   to earthly felicity or love or praise, but my mind being so settled in
   Thee may in Thy love so burn that by no sudden nor avised chance it may
   be cooled.

   If certain I love any creature of this world that shall in all kinds
   please my wish and set my joy and the end of my solace in it, when it
   should come to me I well might have dread of the burning and bitter
   parting. For all felicity that I have in such love is but greeting and
   sorrow in the end, and that pain, when it draws near, most bitterly
   will punish the soul. All pleasure also that men have beholden in this
   exile is likened to hay that now flourishes and waxes green, but
   suddenly vanishes as if it had not been.

   No marvel that to them that behold rightly, the joy of this world thus
   seems; and to them following the solace of those bound in sin; it never
   abides in one estate but passes until it come to nought. Nevertheless
   all stand in labour and grief, and no man can eschew that. The nature
   certain of true love and not feigned is this, that it stands ay stable
   and is changed by no new thing.

   Therefore the life that can find love and truly know it in mind, shall
   be turned from sorrow to joy unspoken and is conversant in the service
   of melody. Song certain it shall love, and, singing in Jesu, shall be
   likened to a bird singing to the death. And peradventure in dying the
   solace of charitable song shall not want,--if it happen to him to die
   and not go swiftly to his love. After this passage forsooth he shall be
   marvellously lifted up into the praise of his Maker, and singing shall
   overflow with delights more than may be trowed, and into the song of
   the seraphim shall forthwith rise, so that in praising he shall give
   light, and continually and endlessly burn. There shall be halsing of
   love, and the sweetness of lovers shall be coupled in heart, and the
   joining of friends shall stand for ever. The sweet mouth shall give
   liking kisses and their love shall never cease.

   The presence of my Love begets to me gladness unmeasured and
   sickerness, and with him I have mind of no heaviness; all adversity
   vanishes and all other desires appear not, but are stilled and
   dispersed; and He alone, that my mind has alone burningly desired,
   wholly refreshes and in-laps me. Truly if thou love Christ with all thy
   will, thou hatest all filth of wickedness, and thou givest thy heart to
   Him that bought it so that He may be thy Lord by grace and not the
   fiend by sin. As Christ has truly and unfeared sought thy soul, and
   would not cease in seeking until the time thou foundest Him, so to
   endless joy thou shalt be led and be near to God in a blessed seat.
   Therefore I counsel Thee to love as I have expounded, and take thy
   place with the angels.

   Beware thou sellest not this joy and honour for foul vanity of fleshly
   lust; wisely consider that the love of creatures exclude thee not from
   the love of God. Hate thou no wretchedness on earth except that they
   thy pure love can cast over and disturb; for perfect love is strong as
   death, true love is hard as hell. Love forsooth is a light burden, not
   charging but lightening the bearer; the which makes glad the young with
   the old; in the which the discomfiters of fiends joy, having taken
   their prey; in which fighters are defended against the flesh and the
   world. Love is ghostly wine moistening the minds of the chosen and
   making them bold and manly, so that they have forgotten the venomous
   likings of the world nor have no care thereof but rather great scorn.

   Therefore by holy love no lover can lose but needs win mickle if he
   keep it truly in his heart. Love without pain bides in the soul of a
   lover, as lovers have shown, for love makes perfect and pain destroys.
   Making perfect and destroying are contrary, therefore the heart, loving
   perfectly, feels no pain nor heaviness, nor is it sorry nor disturbed.
   Thus soothly perfect love and wretched heaviness stand not together.
   Moreover, that that is done gladly is not done painfully. Soothly a
   lover works wilfully and gladly, therefore he has no wretchedness in
   his work but he is happy; not constrained, not heavy, but ay showing
   himself glad and merry.

   Love therefore is the sweetest and most profitable thing that ever
   reasonable creature received. Love is most acceptable and liking to
   God; it not only binds the mind with bands of sweetness and wisdom and
   joins to God, but also it constrains flesh and blood that man slip not
   into beguiling sweetness and into divers desires of errors. In this
   love our life should stand and wax mighty and strong. A better dwelling
   place nor sweeter found I never, for it has made me and my love one,
   and made one out of two.

   Yet worldly love shall grow and perish as the flower of the field in
   summer, and shall be joying no more but as it were one day, so sickerly
   shall it last a short while, but after that end in sorrow. And so
   doubtless it shall be bitter to fond lovers. Their pride and play in
   false beauty shall be cast into filth, that shall be with them
   endlessly when they are downcast into torments. These shall not pass;
   as did their false felicity and the joy they had in shining beauty,
   which have gone into voidness, and all that they enjoyed has swiftly
   vanished.

   God truly gives fairness to men and women not that they should burn
   together in love despising their Maker--as all nearly do now--but,
   knowing it as God's gift, they should glorify and love Him unceasingly
   with all their heart, and should continually desire that heavenly
   beauty, in comparison to which all worldly beauty is nought. For if a
   lovely form is shown in the servants of this world, what shall be the
   beauty of God's children set in heaven? Therefore let us love
   burningly, for if we love we shall sing in heavenly mirth to Christ
   with melody, whose love overcomes all things. Therefore let us live and
   also die in love.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XII

   OF THE FELICITY AND SWEETNESS OF GOD'S LOVE: AND OF THE NIGHTINGALE'S
   SONG: AND PRAYER FOR PERSEVERANCE OF TRUE GHOSTLY SONG THAT WORLDLY
   LOVERS HAVE NOT

   Sweeter delight I know not than in my heart to sing Thee Jesu, whom I
   love, a song of Thy praise. A better and more plenteous felicity I know
   not then to feel in mind the sweet heat of love. Of all things I hold
   it best to set Jesu in my heart and desire no other thing. He truly has
   a good beginning of love that has loving tears, with sweet longing and
   desire for things everlasting.

   Truly Christ as it were languishes in our love, whiles He to get us
   hied to the Cross with so great heat; but it is well said in play love
   goes before and leads the dawn.' It was nought but love that put Christ
   thus low.

   Come my Saviour to comfort my soul; make me stable in Thy love so that
   I never cease to love Thee. Do away sorrow when I must pass, for there
   is none such a sinner that can not joy if he be perfectly turned to
   Thee. O sweetest Jesu have mind of Thy mercy, so that my life may be
   light and fulfilled with virtue that I may overcome my strong enemy. I
   pray Thee give me health in this wise that I be not lost with the child
   of damnation.

   Truly since my soul was incensed with holy love, I am set in longing to
   see Thy Majesty. Therefore made the bearer of poverty I despise earthly
   dignity and care for no honour; my joy truly is friendship. When I
   began to love Thy love took my heart and suffered me to desire nothing
   but love. And then Thou, God, madest my soul burn in sweet light,
   therefore in Thee and by Thee I can die and feel no heaviness.
   Delectable heat is also in the loving heart, that has devoured heavy
   grief in the fire of burning love. And from hence is sweetness given,
   principally music going betwixt and softening the soul, where Thou my
   God and my Comfort hast ordained Thy temple.

   That joy certain is full delicious after which I yearn, and no man may
   be more covetous in such desire. Wherefore my loving soul as it were
   arraying a spouse for the King of the high Empire, says thus: Love
   holds my heart with unloosened bands, and sets it in such governance
   and binds it so greatly with a marvellous maistry that it is pleased to
   think rather to die than to live.' This flower certain can not end for
   my friend is so burning in love, he sings the melody and joy of death.

   In the beginning truly of my conversion and singular purpose I thought
   I would be like the little bird that languishes for the love of his
   beloved, but is gladdened in his longing, when he that it loves comes
   and sings with joy, and in its song also languishes, but in sweetness
   and heat. It is said that the nightingale is given to song and melody
   all night, that she may please him to whom she is joined. How mickle
   more should I sing with greatest sweetness to Christ my Jesu, that is
   Spouse of my soul through all this present life that is night in regard
   to the clearness to come, so that I should languish in longing and die
   for love. But in dying I shall wax strong, and in heat I shall be
   nourished; and I shall joy and in joying sing the likings of love with
   mirth, and hot devotion as it were from a pipe shall issue and my soul
   shall yield angels melody, kindled within, to the most high, and
   offered by the mouth at the altar of God's praise. Thus my soul shall
   alway be greedy to love and never fail with heaviness or sloth from the
   desire she received.

   Soothly holiness of mind, readiness of will, heat of very desire and
   turning to God by continuance of thought, that are in holy souls,
   suffer them not to sin mortally; and if they sin through frailty or
   ignorance, anon they are raised up to true penance by those pricks, nor
   shall they bide long in sin although they cleave to the liking. The
   venial sin forsooth that they do, they waste in the fire of
   love--unless any be cast down by such negligence that they ween that
   that in which they trespass by no sin--and charity is not enough to put
   away all the pain merited; or else they have no tribulation wherewith
   their sin may be purged. Certain in the coming of love the lover's
   heart is burned. Hotter than fire is this marvellous heat, the which
   most sweetly gladdens the mind and tempers and shadows from the heat of
   sins.

   Good Jesu, give me the organ-like and heavenly song of angels that in
   that I may be ravished and Thy worship continually sing; that Thou
   gavest to me unknowing and unwise, now to me expert and asking, give
   again. Cherish me in my last end I may be found full of fire. Show me
   sweet cherishing in Thy good will that my defaults may be here punished
   and cleansed in that wise that, in Thy mercy, Thou hast known for him
   cleaving to Thee; not as in Thy wrath Thou cherishest those flourishing
   in this world, to whom Thou givest temporal prosperity and keepest
   endless pains. Worldly lovers soothly may know the words, or the
   ditties of our song but not the music of our songs; for they read the
   words, but they can not learn the notes and tone and sweetness of the
   songs.

   O good Jesu Thou has bound my heart in the thought of Thy Name, and now
   I can not but sing it; therefore have mercy upon me, making perfect
   that Thou hast ordained. Thy true and busy lover is ravished into
   ghostly song of mind, that it is impossible any such sweetness be of
   the fiend, or such heat from any creature, nor such song from man's
   wit: in which if I abide I shall be safe.

   It behoves truly we be not glad to do small sins that will to perfectly
   eschew great sins. He truly that wilfully and knowingly falls into the
   least, ofttimes shall unavised fall into greater. It longs truly to
   love to desire to fall into great wretchedness rather than sin once. It
   is nought needful to him, but scornful, to seek delight, riches,
   strength, or fairness, that in the doom of the everlasting King shall
   be made a knight, with perfect beauty of members and clearness of
   colour; where in the heavenly hall there shall neither be too mickle
   nor too little, where he shall serve the Emperor in the world of
   worlds.

   Explicit liber de Incendio Amoris, Ricardi Hampole heremite, translatus
   in Anglicum instancijs domine Margarete Heslyngton, recluse, per
   fratrem Richardum Misyn, sacre theologie bachalaureum, tunc Priorem
   Lyncolniensem, ordinis carmelitarum, Anno domini M. CCCCxxxv in festo
   translacionis sancti Martini Episcopi, quod est iiij nonas Iulij, per
   dictum fratrem Richardum Misyn scriptum & correctum. </div3>
   </div2> <pb/> </div1>
     __________________________________________________________________
     __________________________________________________________________

THE MENDING OF LIFE

    THE MENDING OF LIFE OR RULE OF LIVING, AS TRANSLATED BY RICHARD MISYN IN
    1434 FROM DE EMENDATIONE VITAE' BY RICHARD ROLLE OF HAMPOLE: AND NOW DONE
    INTO MODERN ENGLISH
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER I

   FIRST OF CONVERSION

   Tarry thou not to our Lord to be turned, nor put it off from day to
   day; for ofttimes the cruelty of death ravishes the wretched, and
   bitterness of pains suddenly devours them that now irk to be turned. It
   may not be numbered by us how many of the worldly wicked presumption
   has beguiled.

   Truly it is a great sin to trust in God's mercy and not cease from sin,
   trowing God's mercy be so mickle that He will not give righteous pain
   to sinners. Work ye therefore whiles it is day, the night truly comes
   in which no man may work.' Light or day' he calls this life, in which
   we ought never to cease from good working, knowing that death to us is
   sicker, the hour of death truly unsicker. The night' he calls death, in
   the which our members are bound, and wits put by, and we may not now
   work any healthful thing, but shall receive joy or tormentry according
   to our works. In a point we live, yea less than a point; for if we
   would liken all our life to the life everlasting, it is nought.

   Therefore how waste we our life in love of vanity, not without grievous
   damnation; and all day negligent, without repenting, we stand idle.
   Lord, therefore turn us and we shall be turned; heal us and we shall be
   healed. Many truly are not healed, but their wounds rot and fester; for
   today turned to God, tomorrow are turned from Him; today doing penance,
   tomorrow turning to their ill. Of such it is said: we have cured
   Babylon and it is not healed, for to Christ it is not truly turned.

   What is turning to God but turning from the world and from sin; from
   the fiend and from the flesh? What is turning from God but turning from
   unchangeable good to changeable good; to the liking beauty of
   creatures; to the works of the fiend; to lust of the flesh and the
   world? Not with going of feet are we turned to God, but with the change
   of our desires and manners.

   Turning to God is also done whiles we direct the sharpness of our minds
   to Him, and evermore think of His counsel and His commandments, that
   they may be fulfilled by us; and wherever we be, sitting or standing,
   the dread of God pass not from our hearts. I speak not of dread that
   has pain, but that that is in charity, with which we give reverence to
   the presence of so great a Majesty, and alway we dread that we offend
   not in any little thing. Soothly, thus disposed, to God we are truly
   turned because we are turned from the world.

   To be turned from the world is naught else but to put aback all lust,
   and to suffer the bitterness of this world gladly for God; and to
   forget all idle occupations and worldly errands, in so mickle that our
   soul, wholly turned to God, dies pithily to all things loved or sought
   in the world. Therefore being given to heavenly desires they have God
   evermore before their eyes, as if they should unwearily behold Him, as
   the holy prophet bears witness: Providebam Dominum in conspectu meo
   semper, that is to say In my sight I saw our Lord evermore before me.'
   Not only the space of an hour; as do they that set all fair or lovely
   earthly things before the eyes of their hearts, which they behold and
   in which they delight and desire for love to rest. And after the
   prophet says: Oculi mei semper ad Dominum; quoniam ipse evellet de
   laqueo pedes meos, that is: Mine eyes evermore are to our Lord, for he
   shall deliver my feet from the snare.' By this is shewed that except
   our inward eyes to Christ unwearily be raised we may not escape the
   snares of temptation. And there are many lettings so that the eyes of
   our heart may not be fixed on God; of which we put some: abundance of
   riches; flattering of women; the fairness and beauty of youth. This is
   the threefold rope that scarcely may be broken; and yet it behoves to
   be broken and despised that Christ may be loved.

   Truly he that desires to love Christ truly, not only without heaviness
   but with a joy unmeasured he casts away all things that may let him.
   And in this case he spares neither father nor mother, nor himself; he
   receives no man's cheer; he does violence to all his letters; and he
   breaks through all obstacles. Whatever he can do seems little to him so
   that he may love God. He flees from vices as a brainless man and looks
   not to worldly solace, but certainly and wholly directed to God, he has
   nearly forgotten his sensuality. He is gathered all inward and all
   lifted up into Christ, so that when he seems to men as if heavy, he is
   wonderfully glad.

   But there are many that say they will turn to God, but they can not
   yet, they say, for they are holden back by this occupation or other;
   whose cold mind sorrowingly we reprove. For withouten doubt and they
   were touched with the least spark of Christ's love, anon with all
   busyness they would seek which way they might come to God's service,
   and in seeking they would not cease until they had found.

   Ofttimes they feign excuses, which the rather accuses them more. Riches
   forsooth withdraws many, and the flattering of women beguiles them; and
   they that have long done well sometimes are drowned, by them, in the
   worst dykes. For fairness is soon loved; and when it feels itself
   loved, it is lightly cherished; and the chosen one is cast down, and
   after turning or conversion, he is made worse than he was before. Then
   his name is blackened, and he that before was worthy, now is despised
   of all men and hated of all.

   I saw a man truly of whom they said that he chastised his body with
   marvellous sharpness for fifteen years, and afterwards he lapsed into
   sin with his servant's wife, nor might he be parted from her until his
   death. In his dying truly they said that he cursed the priests that
   came to him, and refused to receive the sacraments.

   Therefore the newly turned ought for to flee the occasion of sinning;
   and with their will avoid words, deeds, and sights stirring to ill. The
   more unlawful a thing is, the more it is to be forsaken.

   The feind also strongly upbraids against them which he sees turned from
   him and turned to God, and ceases not to kindle fleshly and worldly
   desires. He brings to mind lusts done before, and the desolation of the
   contrite; and unprofitable desires that were slaked before stir
   themselves. Among these it behoves the penitent manfully to use
   himself, and to take ghostly armour to gainstand the devil and all his
   suggestions; and to slake fleshly desires and ever to desire God's
   love; and to go not from Him, despising the world: of the which now we
   will speak.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER II

   OF THE DESPISING OF THE WORLD

   To despise this world is to pass through this life without the love of
   all temporal and passing things; to seek nothing in this world but God;
   for all vainglory and solace not to care; scarcely to take thy
   necessaries, and if they sometimes want, to bear it goodly. This is the
   despising of this world. Have this in mind if thou wilt not be slain
   through love of it. Thus is the world despised and not loved.

   All soothly that we love, we worship; it is also foul to worship dirt,
   that is to love earthly things. Therefore these rich niggards bind
   themselves thrall in most foul filth and stink, and joy to be called
   lords of men, though they be servants of sin. If a man be lord of men,
   that is not of nature but of fortune. That man is subject to vice is
   from a froward will. Put away therefore thy wicked will, and thou shalt
   be free from the fiend and from sin and made the servant of
   righteousness that teaches thee not to love earthly things.

   Covetousness of the world and the love of God truly are contrary, and
   rest not together in one soul. The place is so strait, that one falls
   out. The more soothly thou castest out covetousness the more thou
   tastest God's love. The more covetousness, the less charity.

   O wretched soul, what seekest thou in this world where thou seest that
   all things are deceitful and passing? They soonest beguile thee that
   most flatter thee. Why busiest thou thyself for mortal things? Why
   yearnest thou with great desire for the things that shall perish? Seest
   thou not that they perish sooner than they are gotten? But I wot where
   thou dwellest, where Satan's seat is; that has blinded thine eyes and
   by his falsehoods has scorned thee: so that thou shouldest desire
   fleeting things, and love hateful things, and despise abiding things,
   and be drawn to things vanishing. And so thou settest thyself on a
   false ground, and when thou weenest to stand thou fallest into the
   fire.

   The dwellers in temporal plenty are beguiled by five things that they
   love: by riches; by dignity; by will; by power; and by honours. These
   bind them in sin, and constrain them in defaults; with these lusts they
   are overcome, and never are loosed but by death; but their loosing is
   too late when there is no more save endless pain. This lets them from
   despising the world; from God's love; from knowledge of themselves;
   from the desire for the heavenly kingdom. No man may be saved unless he
   cease to love the world with all that is therein. Cease therefore
   whiles heat is in the body and the fair age of youth yet abides.

   What things shall delight him that disposes himself to love Christ? He
   will despise youth and will keep his strength for God; riches he counts
   for nought; he will take heed that this fairness is vain, and grace
   deceitful. Whereto shall I run on one by one? He shall perfectly
   despise all things that in this world pass as a shadow.

   O lover of the flesh, what findest thou in thy flesh wherefore thou so
   delightest in it? Does the form or shape please thee, or hast thou now
   thy joy in a skin? Why takest thou not heed what is hid under the skin?
   Or knowest thou not that fleshly fairness is the covering of filth, and
   the dregs of corruption, and oft the cause of damnation? Therefore be
   it enough for thee, all other things being despised, to love God; to
   praise God; with God to be; in God to joy; and from Him not to part;
   but to cleave to Him with unslakened desire.

   The world itself compels us to despise the world that is so full of
   wretchedness; in which is abiding malice, destroying persecution,
   swelling wrath, fretting lust, false blaming for sin, and bitterness of
   slander; where all things are confused and withouten order; where
   neither righteousness is loved nor truth approved; where faithfulness
   is unfaithful, and friendship cruel, that stands in prosperity and
   falls in adversity.

   There are yet other things that should move us to the despising of the
   world: the changeableness of time; shortness of this life; death
   sicker; the chance of death unsicker; the stableness of everlastingness
   and the vanity of things present; the truth of the joys to come.

   Choose what thou wilt. If thou love the world, with it thou shalt
   perish; if thou love Christ, with Him thou shalt reign.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER III

   OF POVERTY

   If thou wilt be perfect, go, sell all that thou hast and give it to the
   poor and come and follow Christ. In the forsaking of worldly things and
   in the following of Christly things, it is shown there is perfection.
   Forsooth all that have forsaken their goods follow not Christ, for many
   are worse after the forsaking of their good than they were before. Then
   certain they serve backbiting, and they dread not to withdraw the good
   fame of their neighbours. Then they swell with envy; they gnash with
   malice; they set themselves before all others; they praise their state,
   all others they either dispraise or condemn. Trowest thou how that the
   fiend has beguiled such, that neither have the world nor God, whom by
   divers wiles he leads to endless tormentry.

   Thou that understandest that I have said, take thy poverty another way.
   When He says go and sell' He marks the changing of thy desire and of
   thy thought, as thus: he that was proud now be lowly; that was wrathful
   now be meek; he that was envious now be charitable; before covetous,
   now generous and discreet. And if he were unclean, now let him abstain
   not only from all ill but from all likeness of ill. And if before he
   exceeded in meat or drink, now by fasting let him amend. He soothly
   that loved the world too mickle, now let him gather himself altogether
   in Christ's love; and fasten all the waverings of his heart in one
   desire for things everlasting. And so no marvel that willful poverty
   shall be fruitful to him, and the noy that he suffers for God be a
   glorious crown. Beati pauperes spiritu, quoniam ipsorum est regnum
   coelorum. That is to say: Bless be they that are poor in spirit, for
   theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'

   What is poverty of spirit but meekness of mind, by the which a man
   knows his own infirmity? Seeing that he may not come to perfect
   stableness but by the grace of God, all things that might let him from
   that grace he forsakes, and he sets his desire only in the joy of his
   Maker. And as of one root spring many branches, so of wilful poverty,
   taken in this wise, proceed virtues and marvellousness untrowed. Not as
   some that change their clothes and not their souls; soothly it seems
   they forsake riches, yet they cease not to gather innumerable vices.

   What is worse than a proud poor man? What more cursed than an envious
   beggar? If thou truly forsake all things for God, see more what thou
   despisest than what thou forsakest. Take heed busily how thou followest
   Christ in manners. Discite, inquit, a me quia mitis sum, et humilis
   corde. 'Learn of me,' He says, for I am meek and lowly of heart.' He
   says not learn of me for I am poor. Truly by itself poverty is no
   virtue but rather wretchedness; nor for itself praised, but because it
   is the instrument of virtue and helps to get blessedness, and makes
   many eschew many occasions of sinning. And therefore it is to be
   praised and desired. It lets a man from being honoured, although he be
   virtuous; but rather it makes him despised and over-led, and cast out
   among lovers of the world. To suffer all which for Christ is highly
   needful.

   Therefore Christ to our example led a poor life in this way, for He
   knew that for them that abound in riches and liking it is hard to enter
   into heaven.

   Therefore so that men should desire poverty more greedily He has
   promised high honour and the power of justice to them that forsake all
   things for Him, saying: Vos qui reliquistis omnia et secuti estis me,
   sedebitis super sedes duodecim, judicantes duodecim tribus Israel, that
   is to say: Ye that have forsaken all things and followed me, shall sit
   on twelve seats, deeming the twelve tribes of Israel.'

   They soothly that have wilful poverty and want in the meekness and
   lowliness that Christ teaches, are more wretched than they that have
   plenty of all riches, nor shall they take the apostles places of
   worthiness in the day of doom; but they shall be clad with the doublet
   of confusion, that is damnation of body and soul. They soothly that
   shine in meekness and lowliness, though they have mickle riches, yet
   shall they be set on the right hand of Christ when He deems.

   Some men soothly say: we can not leave all, we are sick; it behoves us
   to keep our necessaries that we may live, and that is lawful. But they
   are the less worthy, for they dare not suffer anguish, poverty and
   neediness for God. Yet by the grace of God they may come to the height
   of virtue, and lift themselves to the contemplation of heavenly things,
   if they forsake secular occupations and errands, and unwearily rise to
   meditate and pray; and hold not the goods they have with full love, but
   having them, forsake them.

   Take heed also: to seek more than enough is foul covetousness; to keep
   back necessaries is frailty; but to forsake all things is perfectness.
   Therefore whiles they see high things that they can not reach, they
   empride not nor presume because of the small things that they have, so
   that they may mannerly ascend to the ordering of man's life: of which
   now follows.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER IV

   OF THE SETTING OF MAN'S LIFE

   So that a man may be righteously directed to the worship of God and to
   his own profit and the profit of his neighbour, four things are to be
   said.

   First: what is it that defiles a man. There are three sins, or three
   kinds of sin; that is to say of thought, of mouth and of work. A man
   sins in thought when he thinks aught against God. If he occupies his
   heart not with the praise and loving of God, but suffers it to be
   abstracted or stirred with divers thoughts, and to go void in the
   world. In mouth he sins when he lies; when he forswears; when he
   curses; when he backbites; when he defends a wrong; when he uses fond
   speech, or foul speech; or brings forth vain things or idle. In deed he
   sins many wise: by lechery; touching sinfully, or kissing; defiling
   himself wilfully; or, without great cause, procuring or sustaining
   occasions by which he trows he might be defiled; in robbing; stealing;
   beguiling; smiting; and other such.

   Secondly: which are they that cleanse a man? And they are three,
   against the three aforesaid, that is to say: Contrition of thought and
   pulling out of desires that belong not to the praise or worship of God
   and love of Him. Confession of mouth, that ought to be timely, bare,
   and whole. Satisfaction of deed, that has three parts, that is to say:
   Fasting because he has sinned against himself; prayer because he has
   sinned against God; alms because he has sinned against his neighbour.
   Yet I say not he should do alms of other men's goods, but he should
   restore; for sin is not forgiven unless that that is withdrawn, be
   restored.

   Third: which things keep cleanness of heart? And they are three: lively
   thought of God, that there be no time in which thou thinkest not of God
   except in sleep that is common to all; busy keeping of thine outwards
   wits, that tasting, savouring, hearing, and seeing they may wisely be
   restrained under the bridle of governance. The third is honest
   occupation, as reading of holy writ, speaking of God, writing, or some
   other good deed doing.

   There are three things also that save cleanness of mouth: avisedness of
   speech; to eschew mickle speech; and to hate lying.

   Also three things keep cleanness of working: moderation in meat;
   fleeing ill company; and oft to mind of death.

   The fourth: which things are they that allure us to conform us to God's
   will? And there are three. First, the example of creatures, that is had
   by consideration; the goodliness of God, that is gotten by meditation
   and prayer: and mirth, of the heavenly kingdom, that is felt in a
   manner by contemplation.

   The man of God set to live in this wise shall be as a tree that is set
   by running waters--that is the flowing of grace--so that he shall
   always be green in virtue and never be dry by sin; and shall give fruit
   in time; that is, he shall give good works as an example, and good
   words to the worship of God, and these he shall not sell for vainglory.
   He says in time' against them that give example of fasting in time of
   eating, and the reverse way also; and against covetous men that give
   their fruit when it is rotten; or else they give not until they die.

   Therefore he prays wisely who says: Bonitatem et disciplinam et
   scientiam doce me, that is to say: goodliness, discipline and knowledge
   teach me.' What is discipline but the setting of, or correcting, of
   manners? First therefore we are taught righteousness, and corrected of
   ill by discipline; and after that we know what we should do, or what we
   should eschew. At the last we savour not fleshly things, but
   everlasting heavenly and godly.

   And when a man with all busyness has dressed himself to the will of his
   Maker and grown in virtue, and has passed another that peradventure
   went before, in steadfastness of living and desire of Christ, he ought
   not thereof to joy nor give praise to himself, nor trow himself better
   than others--although they be low--but rather hold himself as the
   foulest and most wretched. He shall deem no man but himself, and all
   others set before himself; he shall not desire to be called holy of
   men, but worthy to be despised. When he comes amongst men, he should
   procure to be last in number and least in opinion; for the greater thou
   art the more shouldest thou meek thyself in all things and then thou
   shalt find grace before God to be made high. For the might of God is
   great, and honoured by the meek; therefore it is despised by the proud,
   for they seek their own joy not God's worship.

   Truly if thou takest with gladness the favour of the people and the
   honour of men that is done to thee for thy holiness and good fame in
   this life, know it well thou hast received thy meed. And if thou
   seemest marvellous in penance and chastity whiles thou joyest more in
   man's joy than in angels' in the time to come nought but tormentry
   shall be for thee. Therefore thou oughtest perfectly to despise
   thyself, and entirely to forsake all joy of this world, and to think
   nor do nothing but in the sight of God's love, that all thy life,
   inward and outward, may cry the praise of God.

   In meat and drink be thou scarce and wise. Whiles thou eatest or
   drinkest let not the memory of thy God that feeds thee pass from thy
   mind; but praise, bless, and glorify Him in ilka morsel, so that thy
   heart be more in God's praising than in thy meat, that thy soul be not
   parted from God at any hour. Thus doing, before Christ Jesu thou shalt
   be worthy a crown, and the temptations of the fiend, that in meat and
   drink awaits most men and beguiles them, thou shalt eschew. Either
   soothly by immoderately taking of food they are cast down from the
   height of virtue, or by too mickle abstinence they break down that
   virtue.

   Many truly there are that always fluctuate in eating, so that over
   little or over mickle they always take; and the form of living they
   never keep whiles they trow that now this, now that, be better. The
   unwise and untaught, which have never felt the sweetness of Christ's
   love, trow that unwise abstinence be holiness; and they trow they can
   not be worthy of great meed with God unless they be known as singular
   of all men by scarceness and unrighteous abstinence.

   But truly abstinence by itself is not holiness, but if it be discreet
   it helps us to be holy. If it be indiscreet it lets holiness, because
   it destroys discipline, without which virtues are turned to vice. If a
   man would be singular in abstinence he ought to eschew the sight of men
   and their praising, that he be not proud for nought and so lose all:
   for men truly ween they be holiest that they see most abstinent, when
   in truth ofttimes they are the worst.

   He certain that has truly tasted the sweetness of endless love shall
   never deem himself to pass any man in abstinence, but the lower he
   supposes himself in abstinence with himself, the more he shall be held
   marvellous with men. The best thing, and as I suppose pleasing to God,
   is to conform thyself in meat and drink to the time and place and
   estate of them with whom thou art; so that thou seem not to be wilful
   nor a feigner of religion.

   Know it truly, without doubt, if one or two think well of him, yet
   others will call him an hypocrite or a feigner. But there are some
   covetous of vainglory that in no wise will be holden as common men; for
   either they eat so little that they always draw the speech of men to
   them, or they procure other manner of meats to be seen diverse from
   others: whose madness and obstinacy be far from me.

   Truly it is wholesome counsel that they that fast little give
   preference to them of greater abstinence, and since they may not do so
   great abstinence be sorry in mind. And they that are of great
   abstinence should trow others higher in virtue; whose virtue, in which
   they surpass, is hidden to men, whiles their virtue, that is to say
   abstinence, is praised of many. But unless it be dight with meekness
   and charity before Christ, it is nought.

   It behoves him truly to be strong that will manfully use the love of
   God. The flesh being enfeebled with great disease ofttimes a man cannot
   pray, and then mickle more he cannot lift himself to high things with
   hot desire. I would rather therefore that a man failed for the
   greatness of love than for too mickle fasting; as the spouse said of
   herself: Nunciate dilecto quia amore langueo; that is: Show thyself to
   my love, for I long for love.'

   Be thou therefore steadfast in all thy ways and dress thy life after
   the rule shown to thee, and if thou may not get that thou desirest in
   the beginning mistrust not, but abide; for by long use and time thou
   shalt come to perfection.

   If thou be a pilgrim and rest by the way, whatever thou dost in this
   life to God ever have an eye. Let not thy thought go from Him; think
   that time lost in which thou thinkest not of God. In the night praise
   Him and desire His love, that sleep may not find thee in any other wise
   occupied than praying or thinking of God. See that thou flow not with
   vain thoughts, nor give thyself to many charges, but study to get and
   hold this steadfastness of mind so that thou dread not the wretchedness
   of this world nor desire the goods thereof unmannerly. He that dreads
   to suffer adversity knows not yet how it behoves us to despise the
   world; and he that joys in earthly things is far from everlasting
   things.

   To the virtue of strength truly belong all adversities and
   prosperities; and also to despise death for endless life. And charity
   is to desire only heavenly things. A perfect lover forsooth joys to
   die, and suffers life meekly. To which perfection if thou ascend by the
   gift of Christ, yet shalt thou not be without tribulation and
   temptation: to show which our words shall turn.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER V

   OF TRIBULATION

   When the fiend sees one man out of thousands perfectly turned to God;
   following the steps of Christ; despising this present world; loving and
   seeking only the things unseen; taking perfect penance; and purging
   himself from all filth of mind and body: he devises a thousand
   beguilings of annoyance and a thousand crafts of fighting to cast him
   from the love of God to the love of the world, and to fill him again
   with the filth of sin so that at the least with lecherous thoughts he
   should be made hateful to God. He raises against him persecution,
   tribulation, slander, false blame for sins, and all kinds of hatred; so
   that pain may slay and break him that prosperity could not beguile.

   Now sharpness, now cherishing, he puts before him, and he brings to
   mind images of bodily things; he gathers together fantasies of sin; he
   gaincalls old shrewdness and delights of past love; he inflames heart
   and flesh with lecherous fire. He begins with the least but he comes to
   the greatest flame of wickedness. And with as great busyness he studies
   to blow against us all kinds of temptation, tormentry and tribulation,
   as he sorrows that we, by the mercy of God, have escaped from his
   cheeks.

   He seeks nothing but that he might depart us from the unbodily embrace,
   sweetest and most chaste, of everlasting love; and afterward defile us
   in the pit of wretchedness. That were more wretched for us than I can
   tell.

   Who can think his madness that from the delicacies of kings would come
   down to swine's meat? And yet is he more mad that forsakes the
   delicious meat of unwrought wisdom and puts himself under the filth of
   the flesh. Is not gluttony and lechery swinish filth, and they that do
   such, feed they not fiends?

   Therefore how we must do against the tribulation and temptations of our
   enemies, and how to gainstand, shall patience teach us; of which now we
   will speak.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VI

   OF PATIENCE

   The children of God disdain to come down to the meat of unreasonable
   beasts, but truly they despise all unlawful lusts and worldly solace
   for the love of Christ. He truly that is fed with the bread that comes
   from heaven inclines not his desire to those things that are moved by
   the devil. When temptations arise or tribulation, ghostly armour is to
   be taken and it is time to go to battle.

   Temptations truly are overcome with steadfastness of faith and love;
   tribulation truly with patience. What is patience but goodly and wilful
   suffering of adversity? He therefore that is patient murmurs in no
   grief, but rather at all times with the prophet praises God. The more
   patient a man is in his noys the more glorious shall he be in heaven.

   Gladly therefore are tribulations to be suffered in adversity, noys and
   bitterness, pains and sickness and thirst; for by these and such other
   our sins are cleansed and meeds increased. Truly it either behoves us
   in this life [to be burnt with the fire of God's love and of
   tribulation, or else after this life] with the fire of purgatory or
   hell to be most bitterly crucified and punished. Choose therefore; we
   shall not escape the one. Here truly with little pain, yea with joy, if
   we cleave to God, we may eschew all pain to come.

   Therefore tribulations are sent to us to call us from the love of the
   world, that we be not punished more grievously in the other life. With
   sorrow truly it behoves us to be cleansed of that ill we did in lust.
   If sinners build upon our backs, they noy us not, if we suffer it
   patiently, but themselves; for if they put us to a little pain for us
   they work a crown, but for themselves tormentry.

   The sinful truly are suffered to pass this life withouten great
   tribulations; for in the time to come no joy is kept for them.
   Therefore holy men love tribulations, for they wot by them to win to
   endless life. Contrarily the rejected always murmur in adversity, and
   flee all that they can; for whiles they are given too mickle to seen
   things, they are deprived of the hope of things everlasting. In outward
   things only they find solace, because they have fully lost the savour
   of heavenly.

   There is no reasonable soul here abiding but either she loves
   creatures, or the Maker of creatures. If she loves creatures she loses
   God and goes, with the good loved, to death. Truly such love in the
   beginning is labour and fondness; in the middle languor and
   wretchedness; and in the end hatred and pain.

   He soothly that loves his Maker forsakes omnia quae that is in the
   world, and he thinks it full sweet of Him and with Him to speak; his
   refreshment is to think on Him. He bolts his outward wits that death
   ascend not by the windows; and that he be not unprofitably occupied in
   vanity. And sometimes despisings, reproofs, scorns, and slanders are
   raised against him, and therefore it is needful to take the shield of
   patience and be readier to forget wrongs than to know them. He shall
   pray for their turning that hate him and cast him down, and shall care
   not to please man, but dread to offend God.

   If thou be tempted in the flesh make it subject, that the spirit be not
   overcome. Temptation truly that we consent not to is a matter for using
   virtue. For no man wots whether he be weak or strong until the time he
   be assayed. Likewise in peace no man is called patient, but when he is
   pulled with wrong; then he should see if he have patience. Many seem
   patient when they are not pricked, but when a soft blast--I say not of
   wrong but of correction--touches them, anon their mind turns to
   bitterness and wrath; and if they hear one word against their will they
   give again two more ungodly: into whose counsel my soul comes not.

   Therefore the darts of our enemy are to be slakened with the meekness
   and sweetness of Christ's love; nor is place to be given to temptation,
   although it be grievous. For the greater battle the worthier victory
   and higher crown, as says the psalm: Beatus vir qui suffert
   tentationem, quoniam cum probatus fuerit accipiet coronam vitae, etc.;
   that is to say: Blest be the man that suffers temptation, for when he
   is proved a crown of life he shall receive that God behested to His
   lovers.'

   Doubt not that thou art in the perfect life if despising be to thee as
   praising, poverty as riches, hunger as meat; so that thou sufferest
   them with even soul, and if thou fall in nought from height of mind.
   Flee and hate as mickle as thou canst the praise of man; for it is most
   praiseworthy to be worthy of praising, and not to be praised of men.
   The tongues of flatterers beguile many, and also the tongues of
   backbiters destroy many. Despise thou therefore favour, worship, and
   all vainglory; suffer meekly wraths, hatreds, and detractions; and so
   by slander and good fame, by tribulations and anger cease not to make
   haste to the heavenly kingdoms.

   Ofttimes we fall, so that taught by many chances we should stand more
   strongly. The strong dread not, nor are the patient heavy, in
   adversity, as it is written: Non tristabit justum quicquid ei
   acciderit. Whatever happens to the righteous man it shall not heavy
   him.' Thus disposed, no marvel thou shalt overcome all temptation and
   slake all malice; thou shalt see thy noyers more wretched than thee,
   and with all thy mind thou shalt cleave to Christ.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VII

   OF PRAYER

   If thou be set in temptation or tribulation, to prayer anon run. Truly
   if thou prayest clearly thou shalt have help. Distractions sometimes
   come and waverings of heart, and thoughts of divers things ravish the
   heart and suffer it not to stand in the praising of God. Then
   peradventure it were good a while to think of holiness, until the mind
   is more stabled, and so thy prayers are fulfilled.

   Truly if any have left all worldly occupations for the love of God, and
   always are given to holy prayer and holy meditation, I trow that by
   God's grace within a short space they shall find their heart is stabled
   to love and pray. They should not waver now to this and now to that,
   but rather abide in rest and endless peace. Full mickle it strengthens
   to get stableness of heart to be busy in frequent prayers, and devoutly
   to sing psalms. With busy prayers truly we overcome fiends, and we
   loosen their waitings and stirrings. They are enfeebled and as it were
   without strength, whiles we, strong and not overcome, bide in prayer.

   Truly those men that have it in custom with long exercise to pray,
   sometimes find more sweetness and more fervent desire of prayer.
   Therefore whiles that sweetness and heat last it is good not to cease
   from prayers. When they cease--that often happens because of the
   corruptible flesh--they may turn to read holy scripture, or do some
   other profitable thing, that they suffer not their thought to waver
   from God, so that when they rise to pray again they may be quicker than
   they were before.

   Truly then we pray well when we think of no other thing, but all our
   mind is dressed to heaven and our soul is enflamed with the fire of the
   Holy Ghost. Thus truly a marvellous plenteousness of God's goodness is
   found in us; for from the innermost marrow of our hearts shall the love
   of God rise, and all our prayer shall be with desire and effect; so
   that we overrun not the words, but nearly every syllable with a great
   cry and desire we shall offer to our Lord. Our heart being kindled with
   hot fire our prayer is also kindled, and in the savour of sweetness is
   offered by our mouth in the sight of God, so that it is great joy to
   pray. For whiles in prayer a marvellous sweetness is given to the one
   praying, the prayer is changed to song.

   Here some are reproved that rather take heed to meditation than to
   prayer, not knowing that God's speech is fired; and with it the filth
   of sin is cleansed, and the minds of prayers are enflamed with love.
   They say that they will first meditate and so stable their hearts; but
   they are stabled the later in that they are not comforted by prayer.

   Although we can not gather our hearts together as we would yet may we
   not leave off, but little by little we should study to grow in prayer,
   that at the last Jesu Christ may stable us. To which meditation helps
   if it pass not measure and manner.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VIII

   OF MEDITATION

   The meditation of Christ's passion and His death is good; and oft to
   recall what pain and wretchedness He freely took for our health in
   going about and preaching, in hunger, thirst, cold, heat, reproaches,
   cursings, and sufferings; so that it be not grievous to an unprofitable
   servant to follow his Lord and Emperor.

   He truly that says he dwells in Christ ought to walk as He did. Christ
   says truly by Jeremy: Have mind of my poverty and of my passage, of
   wormwood and gall; that is to say, of sorrow and bitterness, by which I
   went from the world to the Father.

   Truly this mindfulness or meditation overcomes the fiend and destroys
   his crafts; it slakes fleshly temptation and kindles the soul to
   Christ's love; it raises and cleanses, and also purges the mind. I trow
   this meditation is most profitable of all others to them that are newly
   turned to Christ. For there truly is shown the manhood of Jesu Christ,
   in the which man should be repeatedly glad; in which he has matter for
   joy and also mourning. Joy for the sickerness of our gainbuying;
   heaviness for the filth of our sinning, on account of which it is to be
   grieved for that so worthy an offering is offered. For the boisterous
   and fleshly soul is not ravished into the contemplation of the Godhead
   unless all fleshly lettings be wasted away by ghostly meditation and
   contemplation of the manhood.

   Truly when a man begins to have a clean heart, and no image of bodily
   things can beguile him, then sickerly he is admitted to high things,
   that in love of the Godhead he may be wonderfully made glad. Some think
   truly on the joy of the blessed angels and holy souls joying with
   Christ; and this thought belongs to contemplation. Some think on the
   wretchedness of man's condition and his filth, and they dispute in
   their thoughts about man's folly that for the vanities of this life
   forgets the joys unseen. Others thus dispose their thoughts: that they
   will nothing but the praise and desire of their Maker, so that they
   love Him as much as is possible for men in this life. To this
   meditation no man comes but he that is mickle used in these things
   before rehearsed. For truly it is a more excellent manner than others
   and makes a man most contemplative.

   Therefore as the works and uses of saints are divers, so are their
   meditations divers. Yet all, because they come of one spring, go to one
   end, and they come or lead to one bliss; but by divers ways, through
   the one charity, that is more in one than another. Therefore the psalm
   says: Deduxit me super semitas justitiae; that is, He has led me upon
   the paths of righteousness;' as if to say, there is one righteousness
   and many paths by which we are led to the joy of the life everlasting;
   because whiles all are one in being, they are of divers needs, and in
   one righteousness they are led to God by divers paths. Some go by a low
   path, some by a mean, and some by a high. The higher path is given to
   him that is ordained from eternity to love Christ more, not because he
   works more than others, or gives more or suffers more, but because he
   loves more. Which love is heat and sweetness, and it seeks rest in all
   men.

   No man may set himself in any of these paths; but he takes to that
   which God chose him. Sometimes they that seem in the higher are in the
   lower, and the reverse; for that is only inward in soul before God, not
   in anything that may be done outward of man. According to the
   disposition and desire of their meditation they are dressed to this
   path or to that. By outward works no man may be known who is more or
   who less before God. Therefore it is folly to deem of the chosen and
   say: he passes him; or, his merits are far below the meeds of this one,
   when plainly they know not their minds; the which if they knew they
   might lawfully deem.

   Therefore truly God wills it to be secret from all creatures, that they
   despise not some too mickle, or honour some too mickle. For doubtless
   if they saw men's hearts, many that they honour they would despise as
   stinking and foul, and others that they set not by, nor yet desire to
   see, they would honour as most lovely, and as the holy angels.

   Good thoughts also and meditations of the elect be of God, and such by
   His grace He sheds forth to each one as best accords to their state and
   condition. Therefore I can tell thee my meditations, but which is most
   effectual for thee I cannot opine, for I see not thy inward desires. I
   trow truly that those meditations in thee most please God and most
   profit thee that God by His mercy sheds in thee.

   Nevertheless in the beginning thou mayest have the words of other men;
   that I know well by myself. Truly if thou despise the teachings of
   doctors and trow that thyself mayest find something better than they
   teach thee in their writings, know forsooth that thou shalt not taste
   Christ's love. For truly it is a fond saying: God taught them, why
   therefore shall He not teach me?' I answer thee: because thou art not
   such as they were. Thou art proud and sturdy, and they were lowly and
   meek; and they asked nothing of God presuming, but meeking themselves
   under all, took knowledge from the saints. He taught them therefore so
   that we should be taught in their books.

   If truly thou now desirest the love of Christ in thy meditations, or to
   resound His praises--as meseems--thou art well disposed. But the
   thoughts in which thou feelest more sweetness in God profit thee more.
   To meditate well without sweetness profits thee little, except in that
   case when the need for sweetness is not felt.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER IX

   OF READING

   If thou desire to come to the love of God, and be kindled in thy desire
   for heavenly joys, and be brought to the despising of earthly things,
   be not negligent in meditating and reading holy scripture; and most in
   those places where it teaches manners, and to eschew the deceits of the
   fiend, and where it speaks of God's love, and of contemplative life.
   Hard sayings may be left to disputers and to wise men used for a long
   time in holy doctrine.

   It helps us truly mickle to profit in good. By this we know our
   defaults and good deeds; in which things we sin, and in which not; what
   we should do, and what forbear; and the most subtle deceits of our
   enemies are opened to us. They kindle to love, and prick to weeping. If
   we have delight in them as it were in all riches, they prepare us a
   table of delights.

   But let not covetousness of the honour or favour or praise of men
   kindle us to knowledge of scripture, but only the intent to please God;
   that we may know how we should love Him, and teach our neighbour the
   same. We ought not to be holden wise anent the people but rather hide
   our knowledge than show it so as to be praised, as it is said: In corde
   meo abscondi eloquia tua, ut non peccem tibi, that is: In my heart thy
   words, that I sin not towards thee,' in void or vain showing.

   Therefore the cause of our speaking should be only the praise of God
   and the edification of our neighbour, that it may be fulfilled in us:
   Semper laus ejus in ore meo. Alway His praise be in my mouth,' and that
   is, when we seek not our own honour and we speak not against His
   praise.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER X

   OF CLEANNESS OF MIND

   By these nine degrees before touched upon man comes to cleanness of
   mind, where God is seen. Cleanness, I say, that may be had in this
   life. How may perfect cleanness be gotten here where so oft man, with
   venial sins at least, is defiled? The feet of saints are to be washed
   for they draw the dust of the earth.

   Who may truly say, I am clean from sin?' Truly none in this life; for
   as Job says: Si lotus fuero aquis nivis, et effulserint velut munditiae
   manus meae, tamen sordibus intinges me, et abominabuntur me vestimenta
   mea; that is to say: If I be washed with snow water,' that means true
   penance, and if my hands shine with cleanness,' because of works of
   innocence, yet shalt thou touch me with filth,' because of venial sins
   that can not be eschewed; and my clothes shall abhor me,' that is to
   say my flesh makes me abhor myself; and sensuality that is so frail,
   slippery, and ready to love the liking beauty of this world, ofttimes
   makes me sin. Therefore the apostle says: Non regnet peccatum in nostro
   mortali corpore. 'Sin reigns not in our mortal body,' as who should
   say: Sin may un-reign in us, but it may not un-be.

   What cleanness therefore can man have in this life? Truly worthy and
   great if he rightly use himself in the study of reading, prayer, and
   meditation, as it is before noted. Truly although he sometimes sin
   venially yet forthwith, because his whole mind is dressed to God, it is
   destroyed. The heat truly of charity wastes in him all rust of sin, as
   it were a drop of water put into a great fire.

   The virtue therefore of a cleansed soul is to have the mind busy to
   God, for in this degree all the thought is dressed to Christ; all the
   mind, although he seems to speak to others, is spread unto Him. Truly
   in a clean conscience nothing is bitter, sharp, or hard, but all is
   sweet and lovely. Out of cleanness of heart rises a song of joy, sweet
   ditty and joyful mirth. Then full oft a wonderful joy of God is given,
   and heavenly song is inshed. In this state a man may know that he is in
   charity that he shall never lose; he lives not without great dread--not
   lest he should suffer tormentry but that he offend not his Lover.

   I spare to say more here for I seem to myself a full great wretch. For
   oft my flesh is noyed and assayed. Although forsooth the love of God
   and contemplative life is contained in these things beforesaid, yet
   somewhat of them is more specially to be said to your need and profit.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XI

   OF THE LOVE OF GOD

   O sweet and delectable light that is my Maker unmade; enlighten the
   face and sharpness of my inward eye with clearness unmade, that my
   mind, pithily cleansed from uncleanness and made marvellous with gifts,
   may swiftly flee into the high mirth of love; and kindled with Thy
   savour I may sit and rest, joying in Thee, Jesu. And going as it were
   ravished in heavenly sweetness, and made stable in the beholding of
   things unseen, never, save by godly things, shall I be gladdened.

   O Love everlasting, enflame my soul to love God, so that nothing may
   burn in me but His embraces. O good Jesu, who shall grant me to feel
   Thee that now may neither be felt nor seen? Shed Thyself into the
   entrails of my soul. Come into my heart and fill it with Thy clearest
   sweetness. Moisten my mind with the hot wine of Thy sweet love, that
   forgetful of all ills and all scornful visions and imaginations, and
   only having Thee, I may be glad and joy in Jesu my God. Henceforward,
   sweetest Lord, go not from me, continually biding with me in Thy
   sweetness; for Thy presence only is solace to me, and Thy absence only
   leaves me heavy.

   O Holy Ghost that givest grace where Thou wilt, come into me and ravish
   me to Thee; change the nature that Thou hast made with Thy honeyed
   gifts, that my soul fulfilled with Thy liking joy, may despise and cast
   away all things in this world. Ghostly gifts she may take of Thee, the
   Giver, and going by songful joy into undescried light she may be all
   melted in holy love. Burn my reins and my heart with Thy fire that on
   Thine altar shall endlessly burn.

   O sweet and true Joy, I pray Thee come! Come O sweet and most desired!
   I pray Thee come! Come O sweet and most desired! Come my Love, that art
   all my comfort! Glide down into a soul longing for Thee and after Thee
   with sweet heat. Kindle with Thy heat the wholeness of my heart. With
   Thy light enlighten my inmost parts. Feed me with honeyed songs of
   love, as far I may receive them by my powers of body and soul.

   In these, and such other meditations be glad, that so thou mayest come
   to the pith of love. Love truly suffers not a loving soul to bide in
   itself, but ravishes it out to the Lover; so that the soul is more
   there were it loves, than where the body is that by it lives and feels.

   There are soothly three degrees of Christ's love, by one or another of
   which he that is chosen to love profits. The first is called, unable to
   be overcome; the second, unable to be parted; the third is called
   singular.

   Then truly is love unovercomeable when it can not be overcome by any
   other desire. When it casts away lettings, and slakes all temptations
   and fleshly desires; and when it patiently suffers all griefs for
   Christ, and is overcome by no flattery nor delight. All labour is light
   to a lover, nor can a man better overcome labour than by love.

   Love truly is undeparted when the mind is kindled with great love, and
   cleaves to Christ with undeparted thought. Forsooth it suffers Him not
   to pass from the mind a minute, but as if he were bound in heart to Him
   it thinks and sighs after Him, and it cries to be holden with His love
   that He may loose him from the fetters of mortality, and may lead him
   to Him Whom only he desires to see. And most this name JESU he in so
   mickle worships and loves that It continually rests in his mind.

   When therefore the love of Christ is set so mickle in the heart of
   God's lover and the world's despiser that it may not be overcome by
   other desire of love, it is called high. But when he holds undepartedly
   to Christ, ever thinking of Christ, by no occasion forgetting Him, it
   is called everlasting and undeparted. And if this be high and
   everlasting, what love can be higher or more?

   Yet there is the third degree that is called singular. It is one thing
   to be high, and another to be alone; as it is one thing to be ever
   presiding, and another to have no fellow. Truly we may have many
   fellows and yet have a place before all.

   Truly if thou seekest or receivest any comfort other than of thy God,
   and if peradventure thou lovest the highest, yet it is not singular.
   Thou seest therefore to what the greatness of worthiness must increase,
   that when thou art high thou mayest be alone. Therefore love ascends to
   the singular degree when it excludes all comfort but the one that is in
   Jesu; when nothing but Jesu may suffice it.

   The soul set in this degree loves Him alone; she yearns only for
   Christ, and Christ desires; only in His desire she abides, and after
   Him she sighs; in Him she burns; she rests in His warmth. Nothing is
   sweet to her, nothing she savours, except it be made sweet in Jesu;
   whose memory is as a song of music in a feast of wine. Whatever the
   self offers to her besides it or comes into mind, is straightway cast
   back and suddenly despised if it serve not His desire or accord not
   with His will. She suppresses all customs that she sees serve not to
   the love of Christ. Whatever she does seems unprofitable and
   intolerable unless it runs and leads to Christ, the End of her desire.
   When she can love Christ she trows she has all things that she wills to
   have, and withouten Him all things are abhorrent to her and wax foul.
   But because she trows to love Him endlessly she steadfastly abides, and
   wearies not in body nor heart but loves perseveringly and suffers all
   things gladly. And the more she thus lives in Him the more she is
   kindled in love, and the liker she is to Him.

   No marvel loneliness accords with such a one that grants no fellow
   among men. For the more he is ravished inwardly by joys, the less is he
   occupied in outward things; nor is he let by heaviness or the cares of
   this life. And now it seems as if the soul were unable to suffer pain,
   so that not being let by anguish, she ever joys in God.

   O my soul, cease from the love of this world and melt in Christ's love,
   that always it may be sweet to thee to speak, read, write, and think of
   Him; to pray to Him and ever to praise Him. O God, my soul, to Thee
   devoted, desires to see Thee! She cries to Thee from afar. She burns in
   Thee and languishes in Thy love. O Love that fails not, Thou hast
   overcome me! O everlasting Sweetness and Fairness Thou hast wounded my
   heart, and now overcome and wounded I fall. For joy scarcely I live,
   and nearly I die; for I may not suffer the sweetness of so great a
   Majesty in this flesh that shall rot.

   All my heart truly, fastened in desire for JESU, is turned into heat of
   love, and it is swallowed into another joy and another form. Therefore
   O good Jesu have mercy upon a wretch. Show Thyself to me that longs;
   give medicine to my hurt. I feel myself not sick, but languishing in
   Thy love. He that loves Thee not altogether loses all; he that follows
   Thee not is mad. Meanwhile therefore be Thou my Joy, my Love, and
   Desire, until I may see Thee, O God of Gods, in Syon.

   Charity truly is the noblest of virtues, the most excellent and
   sweetest, that joins the Beloved to the lover, and everlastingly
   couples Christ with the chosen soul. It reforms in us the image of the
   high Trinity, and makes the creature most like to the Maker.

   O gift of love, what is it worth before all other things, that
   challenges the highest degree with the angels! Truly the more of love a
   man receives in this life, the greater and higher in heaven shall he
   be. O singular joy of everlasting love that ravishes all His to the
   heavens above all worldly things, binding them with the bands of
   virtue.

   O dear charity, he is not wrought on earth that--whatever else he may
   have--has not Thee. He truly that is busy to joy in Thee, is forthwith
   lift above earthly things. Thou enterest boldly the bedchamber of the
   Everlasting King. Thou only art not ashamed to receive Christ. He it is
   that thou hast sought and loved. Christ is thine: hold Him, for He
   cannot but receive thee, whom only thou desirest to obey. For withouten
   thee plainly no work pleases Him. Thou makest all things savoury. Thou
   art a heavenly seat; angels fellowship; a marvellous holiness; a
   blissful sight; and life that lasts endlessly.

   O holy charity, how sweet thou art and comfortable; that remakest that
   that was broken. The fallen thou restorest; the bond thou deliverest;
   man thou makest even with angels. Thou raisest up those sitting and
   resting, and the raised thou makest sweet.

   In this degree or state of love is love chaste, holy, and wilful;
   loving what is loved for the self, not for goods, and fastening itself
   altogether on that that is loved. Seeking nothing outward, pleased with
   itself: ardent, sweet-smelling, heartily binding love to itself in a
   marvellously surpassing manner. In the loved one joying; all other
   things despising and forgetting; thinking without forgetfulness;
   ascending in desire; falling in his love; going on in halsing; overcome
   by kissing; altogether molten in the fire of love.

   Thus truly Christ's lover keeps no order in his loving nor covets no
   degree, because however fervent and joyful he be in the love of God in
   this life, yet he thinks to love God more and more. Yea, though he
   might live here evermore yet he should not trow at any time to stand
   still and not progress in love, but rather the longer he shall live the
   more he should burn in love.

   God truly is of infinite greatness, better than we can think; of
   unreckoned sweetness; inconceivable of all natures wrought; and can
   never be comprehended by us as He is in Himself in eternity. But now,
   when the mind begins to burn in the desire for its Maker, she is made
   able to receive the unwrought light, and so inspired and fulfilled by
   the gifts of the Holy Ghost--as far as is lawful to mortals--she has
   heavenly joy. Then she overpasseth all things seen, and is raised up in
   height of mind to the sweetness of everlasting life. And whiles the
   soul is spread with the sweetness of the Godhead and the warmness of
   Creating Light, she is offered in sacrifice to the everlasting King,
   and being accepted is all burned up.

   O merry love, strong, ravishing, burning, wilful, stalwart, unslakened,
   that brings all my soul to Thy service and suffers it to think of
   nothing but Thee. Thou challengest for Thyself all that we live; all
   that we savour; all that we are.

   Thus therefore let Christ be the beginning of our love, whom we love
   for Himself. And so we love whatever is to be loved ordinately for Him
   that is the Well of love, and in whose hands we put all that we love
   and are loved by. Here soothly is perfect love shown: when all the
   intent of the mind, all the privy working of the heart, is lift up into
   God's love; so that the might and mirth of true love be so mickle that
   no worldly joy, nor fleshly merchandise, be lawful nor liking.

   O love undeparted! O love singular! Although there were no torments for
   the wicked, nor no meed in heaven should be trowed for chosen souls,
   yet shouldst thou never the sooner loose thee from thy Love. More
   tolerable it were to thee to suffer an untrowed grief than once to sin
   deadly. Therefore truly thou lovest God for Himself and for no other
   thing, nor thyself except for God; and thereof it follows that nothing
   but God is loved in thee. How else should God be all in ilk thing, if
   there be any love of man in a man?

   O clear charity, come into me and take me into thee and so present me
   before my Maker. Thou art savour well tasting; sweetness well smelling,
   and pleasant odour; a cleansing heat and a comfort endlessly lasting.
   Thou makest men contemplative; heaven's gate thou openest; the mouths
   of accusers thou sparrest; thou makest God be seen and thou hidest a
   multitude of sins. We praise thee, we preach thee, by the which we
   overcome the world; by whom we joy and ascend the heavenly ladder. In
   thy sweetness glide into me: and I commend me and mine unto thee
   withouten end.
     __________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER XII

   OF CONTEMPLATION

   Contemplative life or contemplation has three parts: reading, prayer
   and meditation. In reading God speaks to us; in prayer we speak to God.
   In meditation angels come down to us and teach us that we err not; in
   prayer they go up and offer our prayers to God, joying in our profit;
   that are messengers betwixt God and us.

   Prayer certain is a meek desire of the mind dressed in God, with which,
   when it comes to Him, He is pleased. Meditation on God and godly
   things, in which is the halsing of Rachel, is to be taken after prayer
   and reading.

   To reading belongs reason or the inquisition of truth, that is as a
   goodly light marked upon us. To prayer belongs praise, song, surpassing
   in beholding, and marvel; and thus contemplative life or contemplation
   stands in prayer. To meditation belongs the inspiration of God,
   understanding, wisdom and sighing.

   If it be asked what is contemplation it is hard to define. Some say
   that contemplative life is nought else but knowledge of things to come
   and hidden: or to be void of all worldly occupation: or the study of
   God's letters. Others say that contemplation is the free sight into the
   visioned truths of wisdom, lift up with full high marvel. Others say
   that contemplation is a free and wise insight of the soul all spread
   about to behold His might. Others say, and say well, that contemplation
   is joy in heavenly things. Others say, and say best, that contemplation
   is the death of fleshly desires through the joy of the mind upraised.

   To me it seems that contemplation is the joyful song of God's love
   taken into the mind, with the sweetness of angels praise. This is the
   jubilation that is the end of perfect prayer and high devotion in this
   life. This is the ghostly mirth had in mind for the Everlasting Lover,
   with great voice outbreaking. This is the last and most perfect deed of
   all deeds in this life. Therefore the psalmist says: Beatus vir qui
   scit jubilationem, that is to say: Blest be the man that knows
   jubilation,' in contemplation of God. Truly none alien to God can joy
   in Jesu, nor taste the sweetness of His love. But if he desire to be
   ever kindled with the fire of everlasting love, in patience, meekness,
   and gentle manners; and to be made fair with all cleanness of body and
   soul, and dight with ghostly ointments; he is lift up into
   contemplation. Let him unceasingly seek healthful virtues, by which in
   this life we are cleansed from the wretchedness of sins, and in another
   life, free from all pain, we joy endlessly in the blessed life: yet in
   this exile he thus shall be worthy to feel the joyful mirth of God's
   love.

   Therefore be not slow to chastise thyself with prayer and waking, and
   use holy meditations; for doubtless with these ghostly labours, and
   with heaviness and weeping from inward repenting, the love of Christ is
   kindled in thee, and all virtues and gifts of the Holy Ghost are shed
   into thy heart. Begin therefore by wilful poverty, so that whiles thou
   desirest nought in this world, before God and man thou livest soberly,
   chastely and meekly. To have nothing is sometimes of need, but to will
   that you may have nought is of great virtue. We may have mickle desires
   and yet will to have right nought, when we hold that we have to our
   need and not to our lust. Right as he sometime that hath nought
   coveteth to have many things; right so he that seemeth to have many
   things hath right nought, for that that he hath he loveth it not, save
   only for his bodily need.

   Truly it behoves the most perfect to take necessaries, else were he not
   perfect if he refused to take that whereof he should live.

   This is the manner for perfect men to keep: all worldly goods for God
   to despise, and yet to take of the same meat and clothing; and if this
   want at any time, not to murmur but to praise God; and as much as they
   may to refuse superfluities. The warmer a man waxes with the heat of
   everlasting light, the meeker shall he be in all adversities. He that
   is truly and not feignedly meek holds himself worthy of being despised,
   and neither by harm nor reproof is provoked to wrath. Wherefore lowing
   himself to continual meditation, it is given him to rise to the
   contemplation of heavenly things, and the sharpness of his mind being
   cleansed as the sickness of the flesh suffers, it is given him to sing
   sweetly and burningly with inward joys. And truly when he goes to seek
   any outward thing, he goes not with a proud foot, but only joying in
   high delights anon with the sweetness of God's love is as it were
   ravished in trance, and being ravished is marvellously made glad.

   Such forsooth is contemplative life if it be taken in due manner. By
   long use in ghostly works we come to contemplation of things
   everlasting. The mind's sight is truly taken up to behold heavenly
   things, yet by shadowly sight and in a mirror, not clearly and openly:
   whiles we go by faith we see as it were by a mirror and shadow. Truly
   if our ghostly eye be busy to that spiritual light it may not see that
   light in itself as it is, and yet it feels that it is there whiles it
   holds within the savour and heat of that light unknown. Whereof in the
   psalm it is said: Sicut tenebrae ejus, ita et lumen ejus; that is: And
   as the darkness thereof, so the light thereof.'

   Although truly the darkness of sin be gone from an holy soul, and murk
   things and unclean be passed, and the mind be purged and enlightened,
   yet whiles it bides in this mortal flesh that wonderful joy is not
   perfectly seen. Forsooth holy and contemplative men with a clear face
   behold God. That is either their wits are opened for to understand holy
   writ; or else the door of heaven is opened unto them: that is more. As
   one might say: all lettings betwixt their mind and God are put back,
   their hearts are purged, and they behold the citizens of heaven. Some
   truly have received both these.

   As we, standing in darkness, see nothing, so in contemplation that
   invisibly lightens the soul, no seen light we see. Christ also makes
   darkness His resting place, and yet speaks to us in a pillar of a
   cloud. But that that is felt is full delectable. And in this truly is
   love perfect when man, going in the flesh, cannot be glad but in God,
   and wills or desires nothing but God or for God. Hereby it is shown
   that holiness is not in crying of the heart, or tears, or outward
   works, but in the sweetness of perfect charity and heavenly
   contemplation. Many truly are molten in tears, and afterwards have
   turned them to evil; but no man defiles himself with worldly business
   after he has truly joyed in everlasting love. To greet and to sorrow
   belong to the newly converted, beginners and profiters; but to sing
   joyfully and to go forth in contemplation belongs but to the perfect.

   He therefore that has done penance for a long time, whiles he feels his
   conscience pricking for default knows without doubt that he has not yet
   done perfect penance. Therefore in the meantime tears shall be as bread
   to him day and night; for unless he first punish himself with weeping
   and sighing he cannot come to the sweetness of contemplation.

   Contemplative sweetness is not gotten but with full great labour; and
   with joy untold it is possessed. Forsooth it is not of man's merit but
   God's gift. And yet from the beginning to this day a man might never be
   ravished in contemplation of everlasting love unless he before had
   perfectly forsaken all the vanity of the world. Moreover he ought to be
   used in healthful meditation and devout prayer before he come truly to
   the contemplation of heavenly joys.

   Contemplation is sweet and desirable labour. It gladdens the labourer,
   and hurts not. No man has this but in joying: not when it comes, but
   when it goes, he is weary. O good labour to which mortal men dress
   them! O noble and marvellous working that those sitting do most
   perfectly! It behoves that he take great rest of body and mind whom the
   fire of the Holy Ghost truly enflames.

   Many truly know not how to rest in mind, nor yet to put out void and
   unprofitable thoughts, and cannot fulfill what is bidden in the psalm:
   Vacate, et videte quaniam ego sum Deus; that is to say: Be void from
   worldly vanity and see, for I am God.' Truly the void in body, and
   wavering in heart, are not worthy to taste and see how sweet our Lord
   is--how sweet the height of contemplation.

   Truly ilk man contemplative loves solitariness so that the more
   fervently and oftener, in that he is letted of no man, he may be
   exercised in his affections.

   Then, therefore, it is known that contemplative life is worthier and
   fuller of meed than active life. And all contemplatives by the moving
   of God love solitary life, and because of the sweetness of
   contemplation are especially fervent in love. It seems that solitary
   men raised by the gift of contemplation are high and touch the highest
   perfection. Unless it happen there be some in such state that they have
   come even with the height of the contemplative life, and yet they cease
   not to fulfil the office of the preacher. They pass these other
   solitaries--highest in contemplation and only given to godly things,
   not to the needs of their neighbours--their degrees being like, and for
   their preaching they are worthy a crown that is cleped aureola.

   Truly a very contemplative man is set towards the light unseen with so
   great desire that ofttimes he is deemed by man as a fool or unwise; and
   that is because his mind is enflamed from its seat with Christ's love.
   It utterly changes his bodily bearing, and his body departing also from
   all earthly works it makes God's child as a man out of his mind.

   Thus truly whiles the soul gathers all the self into endless mirth of
   love, withholding herself inwardly she flows not forth to seek bodily
   delights. And because she is fed inwardly with liking pleasure, it is
   no marvel though she say sighing; Who shall give thee me, my brother,
   that I may find thee without, and kiss thee?' That is to say: loosed
   from the flesh I may be worthy to find Thee, and seeing Thee face to
   face, be joined with Thee withouten end. And now man despises me.'

   A devout soul given to contemplative life and fulfilled with love
   everlasting despises all vainglory of this world, and, joying only in
   Jesu, covets to be loosed. For why she is despised by these that savour
   and love this world, not heaven, and grievously languishes in love, and
   greatly desires with the lovely company of the angels to be given to
   the joys that worldly adversity can not noy.

   Nothing is more profitable, nothing merrier, than the grace of
   contemplation that lifts us from these low things and offers us to God.
   What is this grace but the beginning of joy? And what is the perfection
   of joy but grace confirmed? In which is kept for us a joyful happiness
   and happy joy, a glorious endlessness and everlasting joy; to live with
   the saints and dwell with angels. And that which is above all things:
   truly to know God; to love Him perfectly; and in the shining of His
   majesty to see Him and, with a wonderful song of joy and melody, to
   praise Him endlessly.

   To whom be worship and joy, with deeds of thankfulness, in the world of
   worlds. Amen.

   Thus endys the xij chapetyrs of Richarde Hampole into englys translate
   be ffrere Richard Misyn, to informacioun of Cristyn sauls. Anno domine
   Millimo cccc xxxiiij. </div2>
     __________________________________________________________________

  NOTES

   A. = MS. ADD. 37790. C.- C.C.C. MS 236.

   L.--MS. Dd. 5.64.
     __________________________________________________________________

      Prologue of Richard Rolle.

   NOTE i., p. 12,--This passage, beginning Euigilans vero animam meam' to
   the end of the chapter, is found in early printed editions of
   Bonaventura's works as the prologue to a treatise called the Incendium
   Amoris. But both the prologue and the title are said to be spurious in
   the exhaustive edition of the works published by the college of S.
   Bonaventura. De titulo huius opusculi et de prologo illo Evigilans vero
   animam meam, qui certissime spurisu est, cum nec in primis editionibus
   nec in codicibus, exceptis tribus valde recentibus, inveniatur' (Ad
   Claras Aquas, vol. viii. p. 3, 1989).

   This is interesting as freeing Rolle--at any rate in this case--from
   the charge of incorporating the writings of others in his works. Not
   that the charge was a serious one in those days, when the pride of
   authorship was unknown. Rolle's aim was to kindle men's hearts to love
   God; by his own words if he could, or if he found his thoughts better
   expresses by another, he would gladly use what that other had written
   or said.

   NOTE ii., p. 13.--L. reads: 'eo de iure apciores essent ad amandum';
   which Misyn translates literally. C. the more abyll to lufe be lawe
   thai ar.' [30]
     __________________________________________________________________

   [30] I have both here and in the footnotes followed the spelling of the
   manuscripts.
     __________________________________________________________________

    THE FIRE OF LOVE--BOOK I

      Chapter I

   Note iii., p. 16--C. reads: for thai vnmanerly wyth warldly mone has
   armyd tham self.' But L. quia terrenas pecunias immoderate amauerunt';
   which is probably correct, and which I have therefore followed.

   Note iv., p. 17--an omission in C. L., reads: Erumpit enim in
   ostensione operis feruor amoris.'

   Note v., p. 18--Another omission L. et qui ad amandum deum semper sunt
   auidi.'

      Chapter II

   Note vi., p. 20 = The Bible references are to the Vulgate of Sixtus V
   and Clement VII, and where the A.V. differs the reference to the latter
   has been added. I have not been able to trace the source of Rolle's
   quotations. They often differ slightly from the Vulgate, nor do they
   follow the Vetus Itala. Most probably Rolle quoted from the missal or
   breviary, or possibly he may have relied upon his memory which has
   sometimes played him false.

   (Eccli. = Ecclesiasticus. Eccl. = Ecclesiastes.)

   Note vii. p. 20--A difficult passage. I give both the Latin and Middle
   English in full. L. Porro perfecti qui in hanc excellentem abundunciam
   eterne amicicie assumuntur in preclaro calice caritatis melliflue,
   dulcore indebibili iam imbuti viuunt atque in almiphono amenitatis
   archano in animum suum hauriunt felicem ardorem quo iocundati iugiter
   inestimabilem habent interni electuarii confortacionem.' And C. Parfyte
   forsoth that in to his passynge plente of endeles frenschyp ar takyn.
   taght with swetness that sall not waste. new lyffe in the clere chales
   of full swete charite. And in holy counsaill of myrth thai drawe into
   there saules happy hete. with the whilk thai gretely gladdyd has
   gretter comforth then may be trowyd of gostely letwary.'

   Note viii., p. 21--This is the only passage in the Incendium where
   Rolle breaks into rhythm:


   L. O deus meus,

   O amor meus

   Illabere mihi,

   Tua caritate perforato,

   Tua pulcritudine vulnerato,

   Illabere, inquam,

   Et languentem'

   and then he continues: consolare medicina tu miseri; ostende te amanti;
   ecce in te est omne desiderium meum, omne quod querit cor meum,' etc.
   Dr. Horstman takes this absence of rhythm as one of the proofs of the
   later date of the Incendium, since the Melum Contemplativorum, a much
   earlier work, is constantly broken up into verse.

   Note ix., p. 21--L. reads: nec me aliquando deseras quem tanto tui
   desiderio cernis flagrare,' but C. has: Forsake thou neuer hym that
   thou feles so swetely smel in thi desyre'; misreading flagrare for
   fragrare.

      Chapter IV.

   Note x., p. 27--There seems some corruption here. L. et quasi in organo
   ascendit in altum concupitum clarificantem contemplari'; and C. '& als
   wer goyng to heghe clere desyre in noys of organes to be
   contemplatyue.' The difficulty here is contemplari,' which I have
   altered in the text to contemplation.'

      Chapter V.

   Note xi., p. 30--Rolle seems here to have sacrificed clearness for the
   sake of alliteration. L. reads: Quamobrem capaces gaudii amoris et
   concipientes calorem qui non potest consumi concurrunt in canticum
   clari concentus et armonie amorose, atque in amenitate amicabili
   obumbracionem habent celitus infusam, contra omnem estum lenocinii ac
   liuoris.' And C. ffor whilk thinge takars of lufly ioy & heete
   consauand that may not be consumyd in songe thai ryn of clene company &
   lufly armony. And in frendely myrth heuenly thai haue in yett a schadow
   agayne all hete of lychery & fylth.'

   Note xii. p. 30--In this passage the sense seems subordinated to the
   alliteration. L. Hinc est vtique quod sine memore moriuntur, immo cum
   gaudio gradientes, et tam grandem gradum eleuantur in eternis honoribus
   et consistunt coronati in copiosissima creatoris contemplacione
   continentes cum choris clarissimis, qui eciam ardencius anhelant in
   essenciam ipsam omnibus imperantem.' And C. Herefore treuly it is that
   thai withouten heuynes dy sothely with Ioy passand vnto so grete degre
   in endles worschip. thai are lyft. and ar crounyd in behaldynge moste
   plentevous of per makar. syngand with clerist wheris the whilk also
   more byrnyngly desiris in to that godhede that reulys all thinge.'

   Note xiii., p. 31--This idea often occurs; compare Prol., p.13; and Bk.
   II. ch iii, p. 142. It iscommon in most mystical writers, and many
   illustrations might be quoted from the Fioretti of S. Francis. For
   example brother Giles once praised Bonaventura's learning, and the
   latter replied that a poor old woman could love God better than a
   learned theologian. Thereupon Giles cried out to an old woman who was
   pasing, that she loved God better than Bonaventura.

      Chapter VII

   Note xiv., p. 35--The Latin brings out the meaning more clearly. L.
   quia et vna est maiestas trium personarum, plena et perfecta et
   quelibet persona in se plenam continet maiestatem, equalitatem quidem
   et ydemptitatem habens secundum deitatis substantiam et diuersitatis
   distinccione non carens secundum vocabuli proprietatem.'

   Property is here used in the scientific sense. Compare the Prayer of
   Humble Access: ' Whose property is always to have mercy.'

   Note xv., p. 36--An omission in C. L. reads: et filius non minor est in
   patre quam in se.'

   Note xvi., p 36--In the shorter versions of the Incendium this chapter
   begins here, with the words: Nichil enim tam suaue est sicut diligere
   christum.'

      Chapter IX

   Note xvii., p. 43--There is some corruption here. C. reads: And noudyr
   pai will be ouycumyne, with auctorite ne resun pat pai sult not be sene
   hawstande haue sayd pat wer vnacordyng.' And L. et nec auctoritate nec
   racione possunt vinci ne videantur victi et incongruum protulisse.'
   Some word is wanted to translate victi, but hawsande seems to be a
   mistaken writing ofr baue said which follows it; nor is it found in A.
   It would be interesting if anyone could throw light on this passage.

   Note xviii., p. 46--C. reads: Also pai pat name berys of lyfe more
   cunnyng.' But L. eciam illi qui sanccioris vite nomen gestant'; which
   seems borne out by the context, and which I have therefore followed in
   the text.

      Chapter X

   Note xix., p. 48--L. fortis est ut mors dileccio, dura sicut infernus
   emulacio'; which is the Vulgate reading. Compare the Vetus Itala: durus
   sicut inferi zelus.' The A. V. and R. V. read: For love is strong as
   death, jealousy is cruel as the grave.' Rolle however gives the reading
   in the text in several of his English works. See The Form of Living:
   For luf es stalwart als pe dede. pat slaes al lyuand thyng in erth; and
   hard als hell. pat spares noght till pam pat er dede'; and in The
   Commandment of Love: In his degre es lufe stalworth as dede. and hard
   as hell' (Horst., vol. i., p.39, and p. 63; and also cf. The Fire of
   Love, Bk. xi, p. 156.)

   Note xx., p. 50--L.: Valde autem difficile est habere diuicias et eas
   non amare, et non minus difficile est artem vel officium habere
   lucrosum, et auarum non esse;'

   Note xxi., p. 50--ffor god his seruandis pat delyuers in per sight
   before pai see nott.' And L. quia deum qui seruos suos liberat in
   conspectu suo non preuident'; from which I have emended the passage.

      Chapter XI

   Note xxii., p. 54--C. withoutyn comparison treuly more mede sall he be
   worthy with songfull joy prayand behaldand redeand & pinkand well. bot
   discretely etand. pen if he withouten his euermore suld fast. breede
   allone or herbys if he suld ete. & besily suld pray & rede.' L.
   Incomparabiliter enim magis merebitur cum canoro gaudio orando
   contemplando legendo meditando, bene set discrete comendendo, quam si
   sine illo semper ieiunaret, panemque tantummode aut herbas comederet,
   iugiterque oraret et legeret.' Rolle evidently means that it is better
   to eat moderately and be cheerful over one's prayers, meditation, etc.,
   than to fast vigorously and to pray with a heavy heart.

   Note xxiii., p. 54--Compare The Mending of Life (ch. xi., p. 232) where
   there is the same phrase: All my hert truly festynd in desire of Ihesu
   is turnyd in to heet of lufe & it is swaloyd into a noper Joy and a
   nodir form.'

      Chapter XIII

   Note xxiv., p. 61--Blessed Maglorius . . . and his former father Saint
   Sampson.

   Sampson or Samson was a native of South Wales, and of high birth. From
   the age of five he was brought up in the monastery of Saint Iltut.
   After his ordination as deacon and priest he lived a still more austere
   life than before, and was so struck by the piety and learning of some
   Irish monks who visited the monastery on their way from Rome that he
   went with them to Ireland. He stayed there for some time and wrought
   several miraculous cures which caused him to be so sought after that
   his modesty could not support it. He therefore returned to Wales, and
   was consecrated bishop but, until by divine revelation he was called to
   Dolin Brittany, he had no see. There he established a monastery, and
   having occasion to visit King Childebert at Paris the latter nominated
   him to be the first bishop of Dol. He died at the age of eighty-five in
   565 A.D. His festival is kept in Brittany on July 28th.

   Maglorius or Magloire was a cousin of Sampson, and his disciple and
   immediate successor in the bishopric of Dol. They were fellow-students
   in the monastery of Saint Iltut, but when the education of Maglorius
   was thought to be completed he returned to his own family. Some time
   later Sampson, being on a visit to them, spoke so movingly of the
   things of God' that Maglorius resolved to leave the world and to live a
   dedicated life. From henceforth these two were inseparable companions
   and after his cousin's death Maglorius, although quite an old man, held
   the bishopric of Dol for several years. But God made known to him that
   he might, as he wished, retire and give his life to prayer and
   contemplation. First he withdrew to a quiet spot in the neighbourhood
   of Dol, but afterwards he went to Jersey. There having healed a
   nobleman of leprosy the latter as a thank offering gave him the
   wherewithal to found an abbey. Maglorius ministered among the people on
   the island, and in the pestilence which broke out in 585 A.D. he is
   said to have performed many miracles of healing. In the latter years of
   his life he seems hardly ever to have left the church, being absorbed
   in prayer. This, and his death very shortly after the outbreak of the
   sickness, recalls Richard Rolle to our mind; for it is not unlikely
   that the death of the latter was due to the plague of 1349, which he
   probably caught while ministering to the sick. Maglorius is
   commemorated in Brittany on October 24th. (See the Menology of England
   and Wales, by the Rev. R. Stanton, pp. 364 and 512.)

   The following interesting reference to Sampson and Maglorius is found
   in the Lives of the English Saints, which were begun by Newman.

   'About the very time when St. Marculfus died, St Sampson came to Jersey
   with his cousin Judael, a prince of British blood. Shortly after came
   St Maglorius, who healed the Frankish count Loyseco of the leprosy, and
   to him was given half the island, rich in woodlands and in fisheries.
   Here he build a fair Abbey, where dwelt sixty monks; in his day the
   faith of Christ sank deep into the minds of the islanders, for the poor
   fishermen, who in their frail barks had to wrestle with that stormy
   sea, loved him well, and willingly brought their fish to the Abbey,
   whose vassals they were. Long afterwards they told how St Maglorius was
   kind to them, so that when one of them was drowned, the Saint wept
   sore, and vowed a vow never to eat fish again; and when evening came,
   he with all the monks went down to the shore chanting litanies; then he
   threw himself upon the sandy beach, and God heard his prayer and was
   pleased to restore the dead man to life. In Guernsey too the Saint
   healed the daughter of the native chieftain; and a field there, where
   once stood a chapel of which he was the patron, is still called after
   his name.' (From the life of St Helier, written by Rev. J.B. Dalgairns,
   vol. vi., pl 40, edit. by A.W. Hutton, 1901.)

      Chapter XIV

   Note xxv., p. 64--L. non dico girouagi qui sunt scandalum
   heremirtarum.' S. Benedict in his Rule speaks thus of these monks: The
   fourth kind of monks are those called "Giravagi," who spend all their
   lives long wandering about divers provinces, staying in different cenns
   for three or four days at a time, ever roaming, with no stability,
   given up to their own pleasures and to the snares of gluttonly, and
   worse in all things than the Sarabites. Of the most wretched life of
   these latter it is better to say nothing than to speak.' (Transl. by
   Fr. Hunter Blair. Sands, London P.15).

   The Sarabites, or Sarabaitae, are described by Du Cange as monks who,
   approved by no Rule, are recognized as keeping faith with the world,
   and by the tonsure lying to God. By twos and threes they stray about
   the towns and villages, living as pleases themselves, as appears in the
   Rule of S. Benedict.' He also gives references to Cassian (Collat. 18,
   Cap. vii), St Jerome and other writers.

   Note xxvi., p. 65--Rolle has here played freely with alliteration,
   which Misyn translates literally. L. En amans ardeo anhelans auide.'

   Note xxvi., pl 67--L. et mens in mellifluum melos immoratur,' i.e.,
   tarries in full sweet song; but I have thought it better to follow C.
   in the text, not knowing from what manuscript Misyn was translating.

      Chapter XV

   Note xxxviii., pl 69--This chapter, which begins Cum infeliciter
   florerem et in inventus vigilantis adolescencie iam adusenisset,' etc.,
   is found in the printed versions of Rolle's Latin works, and in some of
   the MSS, under the title of Incendium Amoris. It is slightly longer in
   its separate form, and in La Bigne continues thus: Intelligendo etiam
   quod ex magno amoris in cendio tantus virtutis decor in animo crescit,
   quod iustus potius eligeret omnem poenam incurrere, quam semel Deum
   offendere. Et quanquam sciret quod posset per poenitentiam resurgere &
   postea Deo magis placere et sanctior esse; quia hoc quilibet perfectus
   intelligit quod nihil est Deus charius innocentia, aut acceptabilius
   voluntate bona.

   'Si enim recte amaremus Deum, debemus magis velle magnum praemium in
   coelo amittere, quam saltem venialitur peccare; quia iustissimum est,
   iustitiae mercedem non requirere: sed amicitiam Die, quae est ipse
   Deus. Melius est ergo semper tormentum pati, quam semel a iustitia ad
   iniquitatem sponte tormentum pati, quam semel a iustitia ad iniquitatem
   sponte deduci & scienter: cum etiam constet manifeste, quod quidam
   Christum tam ardentur diligust, quod nullo modo peccare volunt, non
   solum talse a poena liberi erunt, sed etiam cum angelis aeternaliter
   gaudebunt.'

   Note xxix., pl 70--The expression right there is still in common use in
   America, as is also gotten and the use of gutss, meaning (as in ME.)
   think'; and lovely, meaning lovable.' These examples could easily be
   multiplied.

   Note xxx., p. 71--A. and C. have only won' and a blank following. C.
   bot when fyrst I won dowtand of whome it suld be'; which the E.E.T.S.
   translates: Bot when first I wonderyd,' etc. L. reads: set cum prius
   flactuarem dubitando a quo esset,' etc. which I have followed in the
   text.

   Note xxxi., p. 71--This use of beheld' is not uncommon in ME. Cf. also
   REv. i. 12, I turned to see the voice that spake with me.'

   Chapter XIX

   Note xxxii., p. 88--An omission in C. L. nisi prius cor cius eterni
   amoris facibus funditus inflammetur, vt videlicet cor suum igne amoris
   ardere senciat.'

   Note xxxiii., p. 89--C. And after be inward mane to godis lufe I am
   glad, bot yet I can not so mykyll lufe pat flechly desire I myet barely
   slokin'; but L. et condelector legi deum secundum interiorem hominem,
   set nescio adhuc tantum amare quod possum concupiscenciam penitus
   extinguere.'

      Chapter XX

   Note xxxiv., p. 91--Another omission. L. Quesiuit te pocius quam tua,
   et accepit a te et te et tua, alii famulantur tibi vt habeant tua et
   parum curant de te,' etc.

      Chapter XXI

   Note xxxv., p. 94--L. vnde in ferculo veri salomonis, columpne sunt
   argentes et reclinatorium aureum,' and cf. Vul.,Ferrculum fecit sibi
   rex Salomon de lignis Libani.' Meatboard is a curious translation of
   ferculum. The A.V. translates it chariot' and R.V. palanquin.'
   Ferrculum was generally used of a bier or litter on which to carry the
   spoils of war, or images of the gods, in a solemn procession.

   Note xxxvi., p. 96--Rolle has surely forgotten Piertr de Murrone, who
   was forced from his hermit's cell in the Abruzzi to become Pope
   Clestine V (A.D. 1294), but was advised to abdicate a few months later
   by Cardinal Benedetto Gaetani, who was elected to succeed him as
   Boniface VIII. Because of his abdiction Dante places him in the
   Inferno, and thus speaks of him: Poscia ch'io v'ebbi alcun
   riconosciuto, Vidi e conobbi l'ombra di colui Che fece per viltate il
   gran rifuto.' But he was more kindly judged by Petrarch. Pietro's life
   is beautifully told in a novel by John Ayscough, called San Celestino.

      Chapter XXII

   Note xxxvii., pl 97--A difficult passage. L. et sic vt de priuilegiatis
   loquar, pre gaudio diuine dileccionis in cantum spiritualem vel in
   sonum celicum contemplando suscipi, et in interna quiete se motis
   perturbacionibus suauiter immorari; quatinus dum viro dei exterius nil
   libet agere, eterni amoris delicias in carmine canoro et ineffabili
   iubilo interius repiatur personare.' And cf. C. '& so pat I of men
   priuelegid speek for Ioy of godis lufe in to gostly songis or heuenly
   sound ehaldandly for to te takyn. And in warldly rest all sturbelans
   put bak swetely to byde. In so mykill pat whilst to godis mane no pinge
   is lefull vtward to wyrk. sweetnes of endles lyfe in likyng songe in
   myrth vn mesured with in is takyn to sownd.' I have emended the passage
   as I best could.
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    BOOK II

      Chapter I

   Note xliv., p. 135--This throws an interesting sidelight upon the
   difficulties with which hermits who were not ordained had to contend;
   often having to walk long distances to hear mass on holy days and days
   of obligation.

      Chapter III

   Note xivii., p. 140--There is some corruption here. L. Ita enim
   stabiliti sunt, quod nullo clamore vel tumultu aut quacumque alia re
   distrahi poterunt ab oracione vel cogitacione, set tantum a canore per
   talia diuelli. Istud namque duice canticum spirituale quidem et
   speciale valde quia specialissimis datum'; and C. reads: pai truly ar
   so stabyld put with no cry or noys ar any odyr pinge fro prayer may be
   distracte or poyght but onely for sweit gostly songe truly & full
   speciall it is giffyn.' The E.E.T.S. is here misleading, because the
   words fro songe so that the passage reads thus: pai truly ar so stabyld
   pat with no cry or noys or any odyr pinge fro prayer may be distracte,
   or poyght, bot onely fro songe. For sweit gostly songe truly and full
   speciall it is giffyn.' The omission in C. probably arose from the
   repetition of the word songe.'

      Chapter VI

   Note liv., p. 153--There is evidently some corruption in the heading to
   this chapter. L. reads: De diuersis electorum donis et quomodo sancti
   profecerunt ad amorem orando, mecitando, diligendo, aduersa sustinendo
   et uicia odiendo; et quot amor ex deo procedit, et eius memoria amanti
   est necessaria, nec amans cadit temptacionibus carnalibus ut aliqui
   imperfecti, nec leditur fomite licet ducit.' And C. Of dyuers giftys of
   godis chosyn and how sayntis cum to lufe in praying pinkynge lufynge
   aduersite sofyrand vissittand. And pat lufe cumys of god & pat his lufe
   is necessary. And at trew lufars fallis not be fleschly temptacions als
   odyr inparfite nor with dreggis ot synne is hurtt pof all pai laste.' I
   have emended vissittand to hating vice' and at to that,' but have
   otherwise left C. unaltered. Misyn always translates formes as dregs
   but Rolle's idea here seems to be rather that of a spark which is
   easily rekindled. A more exact translation would be: nor is injured by
   the spark of sin of carnal temptation although it attracts.'

      Chapter VIII

   Note lviii, p. 167--I give the Latin of this passage for the sake of
   the antitheses, which cannot be so well expressed in English. L. Habet
   enim mundus mendax, delicias miseriarum, diuicias vanitatum,
   blandimenta vulnerancia, delectamenta pestifere, felicitatem falsam,
   voluptatem insanam, dileccionem amentem, odibilem tenebroasam, in
   inicio meridiem, in fine noctem eternam; et sal insulsum, saporem
   insipidum, decorem deformem, amiciciam horribilem, matutinum mulcens,
   vesperum pungens mel amaricans, fructum necantem. Habet et gementem
   gemmam et laudem ludibrium, lilium liuorem, cantum clangorem, speciem
   putredinem, discordem concordiam, niuem ingredinem, solacium
   desolatorium, inopiam regnum.' This is a curious anticipation of Lily
   and the later Euphusts.

      Chapter X

   Note lxv., pl 178--An omission in C. L. et ab amoris tanti memoria, nec
   ad momentum euagere permittit ligat mentem amantis vt et ad vanam non
   defluat et in amatum iugiter tendat.'

   Note lxvii., p. 179--L. Cum hoc quippe abundans eris internis, et
   delicias eterni amoris experieris in certitudine et quasi in sciencia
   quod amator es eterni regis.'

      Chapter XI

   Note lxx., p. 185--A difficult passage. C. So no meruayle pe ioy of pis
   warlds semys to pame pat right behaldis & solas of synly bonde ilk odyr
   filoynge in onastate neuer abydes bot passis to it cum to noght'.
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  BIBLIOGRAPHY

    LIST OF THE MANUSCRIPTS OF THE INCENDIUM AMORIS AND THE DE EMENDATIONE VITAE

   Incendium Amoris

   Also found under the titles: Melodia Amoris, De excellentia amoris Dei
   seu Amatori Dei sive, De Vita Contemplativa
     * In the British Museum:
     * Addit. MS. 24661
     * Harl. MMS. 106 (fragment only) 275; 5235
     * Reg. MS. 5. C. iii
     * Sloane MS 2275
     * In the Bodleian Library, Oxford
     * Bod. MSS 16; 66; 86
     * Laud. MSS 202; 528
     * Rawl. MS A. 389
     * Rawl. MS C. 397
     * Oxford Colleges
     * Balliol MS 224 A.
     * Corpus Christi MS 193
     * S. John's MS 127
     * In the University Library, Cambridge
     * Dd. 5.64.1
     * Mm. 5.37.4
     * In the Cambridge Colleges
     * Caius MSS 140, 2; 332.4
     * Emmanuel MS 35.6 (Both versions)
     * S. John's MS 23.1
     * English Versions
     * Add. MS 37790
     * C.C.C.O. MS 236
     * De Emendatione Vitae
     * Also found under the titles:
     * De Emendatione Peccatorum (or Peccatoris)
     * De modo vivendi et Regula in appetando perfectionem
     * De Regula vivendi
     * De Institutione Vitae
     * Vehiculum Vitae
     * In the British Museum
     * Addit. MSS 16170; 24661; 34763
     * Burn MS. 356
     * Cott. Faust MS A.V. 9
     * Egerton MS 671
     * Harl. MSS 106; 275; 2439
     * Sloane MS 2275
     * In the Cambrideg Colleges
     * Caius MSS 140.11; 216.1
     * Jesus MS 46
     * Peterhouse MS 218.5
     * Trinity MS 14.iii.
     * English Versions
     * British Museum
     * Addit. MS 37790
     * Harl. MSS 1706; 2406
     * Lansdowne MS. 455
     * Dublin
     * Trin. Col. MS. 432

   This list is only provisional, but it may be of some use to students of
   Rolle. Since it was made a note has appeared in the Athenaum of August
   23, 1913, by Miss. H. E. Allen, in which she draws attention to another
   MS. of the Incendium in the Durham Cathedral library (MS. B. iv. 35).
   Miss Allen's forthcoming book will contain complete lists of all the
   known authentic writings of Richard Rolle.
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      Glossary

   anent
          with, towards, concerning

   anon
          at once

   behested
          promised

   behold
          consider, regard

   boisterous
          rude, ignorant

   busily
          continually

   challenge
          demand, claim, provoke

   charge
          take care, consider

   chere
          countenance, face

   cherish
          entice, allure

   clearness
          purity

   comfort
          strength

   common
          share in common

   covet
          desire, desiring

   curiosity
          skill

   depart
          to part, separate

   discomfit
          to defeat, conquer

   discomfit
          conquest

   disease
          discomfort, anxiety

   dress
          direct, directing

   eftsoons
          again, afterwards

   empride
          take pride in

   errand
          business

   fairhead
          beauty

   feel
          used of all the senses: to perceive by smell, taste or touch; or
          mentally; to believe, think

   fellowly
          social

   flitings
          reproofs, quarreling

   fond
          foolish

   forbar
          obstruct

   forthink
          repent

   fret
          eat away, irritate

   gainbuy
          redeem

   gainbuyer
          redeemer

   gainsetting
          opposing

   gar
          to make, cause

   grave
          dig

   grieft
          injuries

   halse
          embrace, kiss

   herefore
          hence

   hie
          hasten

   ilk
          each

   impugnation
          spiritual assaults, temptations

   janglers
          talkers, chatters

   japes
          deceits

   let
          hinder

   letters
          hinderers

   lurk
          hide

   mannerly
          ordinately

   meanly
          moderately

   meed
          reward

   mickle
          much

   moisten
          inebriate

   outray
          outgoing, out of bounds, outrage

   pithily
          to the core

   plainly
          altogether

   pricking
          grief, sorrow

   privity
          secret

   reek
          smoke

   release
          relax

   reparel
          restore

   science
          knowledge

   sentence
          meaning

   settled
          free from dregs

   shrewd
          wicked, depraved

   sicker, sickerly
          sure, securely

   sickerness
          certainty, security

   slake
          extinguish, quench, kill

   snib
          blame

   soon
          straightway, forthwith

   spar
          bolt

   stint
          cease, limit

   stirrings
          temptation, exhortation

   strait
          severe, narrow

   teem
          empty

   thirl
          pierce, piercing

   umbelapped
          enwrappted

   umbeset
          set around

   unmeed
          with no reward

   vain
          empty

   vaunt
          to empty out

   waking
          vigil

   waste
          waste away, destroy

   whiles
          as long as, during

   withhold
          retain

   worthily
          deservedly
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            This document is from the Christian Classics Ethereal
               Library at Calvin College, http://www.ccel.org,
                   generated on demand from ThML source.