20. THE PRIORESS’S TALE

Prologue
Domine dominus noster
“O Lord our Lord, how marvelous thy name,
Spread so afar through this wide world,” said she.
“Thy precious praise not only they proclaim 455
Who are among good men of dignity,
But from the mouths of babes thy charity
Is praised as well. Babes sucking at the breast
May often show their praises like the rest.

“Wherefore as best I can or may, in praise 460
Of thee and of that whitest lily flower
Who gave thee birth and is a maiden always,
To tell a tale I’ll labor in this hour–
Increasing not her honor by my power,
For she herself is honor, root and palm 465
Of bounty (next to Christ), and our souls’ balm.

“O mother Maiden, maiden Mother free!
O bush unburnt, burning in Moses’ sight,
Thou who drew down, through thy humility,
The Spirit from the Godhead, to alight 470
In thee, conceiving, as thy heart grew bright,
The Wisdom of the Father–now this story
Help me to tell, related for thy glory!

“Lady, thy goodness, thy magnificence,
Thy power, and thy great humility 475
No tongue may yet express with competence;
For sometimes, Lady, ere men pray to thee,
Thou goest before in thy benignity,
Securing for us through thy orison
The light to guide us to thy precious Son. 480

“O blissful Queen, my learning is too weak
To be declaring thy great worthiness;
I cannot bear such burden, I would speak
As does a child who’s twelve months old or less,
One who can scarcely any word express. 485
That’s how I fare, and therefore hear my plea
To guide my song that I shall sing of thee.”

The Prioress’s Tale
A great city of Asia once contained,
Amid the Christians in majority,
A Jewry that a local lord maintained 490
For venal lucre, foulest usury,
Hateful to Christ and to his company;
And through its street all men might ride or wend,
For open was this Jewry’s either end.

A little Christian school stood by this place 495
Down at the farther end, to which would go
Many a child of Christian blood and grace.
There they would learn, as yearly they would grow,
Such things as in that land were good to know–
That is, they learnt to sing and read, as all 500
Such children learn to do when they are small.

Among these children was a widow’s son,
A little scholar seven years of age,
Whose daily wont was to this school to run;
And if he chanced to see at any stage 505
An image of Christ’s mother, he’d engage
In that which he was taught: he’d kneel and say
His Ave Maria ere he went his way.

Thus was the youngster by this widow taught
Our dear and blissful Lady to revere; 510
And so he kept her near to him in thought–
A guiltless child learns quickly, seeing clear.
(Always when I recall this matter, dear
Saint Nicholas stands ever in my presence,
So young he was to do Christ reverence.) 515

And while his book this child was studying
As he sat with his primer in the hall,
Alma redemptoris he heard them sing,
As children learn from the antiphonal;
Nearer and nearer he would draw, that all 520
The words he might then hear, and every note,
Until the first verse he had learnt by rote.

He didn’t know what all this Latin meant,
For in his tender years he was too young;
One day he begged a friend there to consent 525
To tell to him this song in his own tongue,
Or tell him why this song so much was sung;
That he might so instruct him was his plea
Many a time on bare and bended knee.

His friend (older than he) said to him thus: 530
“This song was written, so I’ve heard them say,
For our dear Lady, blissful, generous,
To praise her, and that she be (as we pray)
Our help and succor when we pass away.
I can no more expound, I’d only stammer; 535
I’ve learnt the song but still know little grammar.”

“Then is this song composed in reverence
For our Lord’s mother?” asked this innocent.
“Now certainly I’ll learn with diligence
The entirety ere Christmastide is spent. 540
Though from my primer I shall thus relent
And get three beatings in one hour, I
Shall learn it all, to honor her on high!”

His friend taught him in secret after school
From day to day till he knew it by rote; 545
He boldly sang, and well by any rule,
He knew it word for word and note for note;
And twice a day it wafted from his throat
When off to school and homeward he would start.
On Christ’s dear mother he had set his heart. 550

This little child, as you have heard me say,
As through the Jewry he went to and fro,
Would merrily be singing every day
O Alma redemptoris as he’d go,
The sweetness of Christ’s mother piercing so 555
His heart that, praying to her his intent,
He couldn’t keep from singing as he went.

That serpent known as Satan, our first foe,
Who has his wasp’s nest in the Jewish heart,
Swelled up and said, “O Hebrew people! Woe! 560
Is this a thing of honor for your part,
That such a boy should walk at will, and start
To sing out as he’s walking such offense
To spite you, for your laws no reverence?”

Thenceforth the Jews proceeded to conspire, 565
Out of this world this innocent to chase;
They found themselves a murderer for hire,
Who in an alley took his hidden place;
And as the child passed at his daily pace,
This cursed Jew grabbed hold of him and slit 570
His throat, and cast him down into a pit.

Into a privy place, I say, they threw
Him, where these Jews would purge their bowels. Wail,
O cursed Herod’s followers anew!
Your ill intent shall be of what avail? 575
Murder will out, for sure, it will not fail;
That God’s honor increase, and men may heed,
The blood cries out upon your cursed deed.

“O martyr, ever in virginity,
Now may you sing and follow ever on 580
The Lamb white and celestial,” said she,
“Of whom the great evangelist Saint John
In Patmos wrote. He said that those who’ve gone
Before this Lamb and sing a song that’s new
Are those who never carnally women knew.” 585

This poor widow awaited all that night
Her little child, but waited all for naught;
When morning came, as soon as it was light,
Her face grown pale with dread and worried thought,
At school and elsewhere then her child she sought; 590
She’d finally learn, when she’d gone far and wide,
That in the Jewry he’d last been espied.

With mother’s pity in her breast enclosed,
She went as if halfway out of her mind
To every single place where she supposed 595
It likely that her child there she might find;
And ever to Christ’s mother meek and kind
She cried. At last, completely overwrought,
Among the cursed Jews her child she sought.

She piteously inquired, she prayerfully 600
Asked every Jew who dwelt within the place
To tell her if her child they’d chanced to see.
They answered, “Nay.” But Jesus by his grace
Put in her mind, after a little space,
To cry out for her son, and where she cried 605
The pit wherein he lay was near beside.

O God so great, so praised in many a hymn
By mouths of innocents, behold thy might!
This emerald, of chastity the gem,
Of martyrdom as well the ruby bright, 610
With throat cut, facing up toward the light,
The Alma redemptoris began to sing
So loudly that the place began to ring.

The Christian folk who through that Jewry went
Came by and stopped to wonder at this thing, 615
And for the provost hastily they sent.
He came without the slightest tarrying,
With praise for Christ who is of heaven King,
And for his mother, honor of mankind;
And after that the Jews he had them bind. 620

This little child with piteous lamentation
Was taken up while still he sang. They had
A great procession then, its destination
The nearest abbey. By his bier his sad
And swooning mother lay to mourn the lad, 625
And scarcely when they had to interfere
Could they move this new Rachel from his bier.

To pain and shameful death this provost sent
Each of the Jews known to participate
In knowledge of the crime. They early went, 630
For no such cursedness he’d tolerate;
What evil shall deserve is evil’s fate.
He had them drawn by horses, then he saw
That they be hanged according to the law.

Upon his bier still lay this innocent 635
Before the altar while the mass progressed.
After that, the abbot with his convent
Made haste that they might lay the child to rest;
With holy water by them he was blest–
Yet spoke the child, when sprayed with holy water, 640
And sang O Alma redemptoris mater.

This abbot, who was such a holy man
As all monks are (or so they ought to be),
To conjure this young innocent began:
“Dear child, I’m now entreating you,” said he, 645
“By power of the holy Trinity,
To tell me by what cause you sing, for it
Would surely seem to me your throat is slit.”

“My throat’s cut to my neckbone,” then replied
The child, “a wound that is of such a kind 650
That long ago indeed I should have died.
But Jesus Christ, as in books you will find,
Wills that his glory last and be in mind;
And for the worship of his mother dear,
Yet may I sing O Alma loud and clear. 655

“This well of mercy, Christ’s sweet mother, I
Have always loved as best as I know how;
And when I was to forfeit life and die,
She came to me and bade me give a vow
To sing this anthem when I die (as now 660
You have already heard). When I had sung,
I thought she laid a grain upon my tongue.

“Wherefore I sing, and sing I shall again,
In honor of that blissful maiden free,
Till from my tongue they take away the grain. 665
For afterwards here’s what she said to me:
‘My little child, I’ll fetch you, as you’ll see,
When that same grain has from your tongue been taken.
Be not afraid, you will not be forsaken.'”

This holy monk (the abbot’s whom I mean) 670
Pulled out the tongue and took away the grain:
The child gave up the ghost, soft and serene.
And when he saw this wonder so obtain,
With salty tears that trickled down like rain
He, groveling, fell flat upon the ground 675
And stilly lay there, as if he were bound.

Upon the pavement, too, the whole convent
Lay weeping, and they praised Christ’s mother dear;
And afterwards they rose and forth they went
And took away this martyr from his bier; 680
Inside a tomb of stone, of marble clear,
They put away his body small and sweet.
There he remains. God grant we all shall meet!

O youthful Hugh of Lincoln, slain also
By cursed Jews, as is so widely known 685
(As it was but a little while ago),
Pray for us too (in sin we’ve wayward grown),
That gracious God, in mercy from his throne,
Increase his grace upon us as we tarry,
For reverence of his sweet mother Mary. Amen. 690

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