Beinecke Library, Takamiya Deposit 54

[starts line 31] Festum Sancti Dunstani Seint Dunston was of Engelond  come of good more{[?] of [?]} Miracles our lord did for hym  er he were ybore Whan he in his moders wombe was  on a Cadelmasday As þe folk were at chirche  as to þe time lay And þei stoden wiþ her liȝt  as men don riȝt nowe her light queint oueral  no man wist howe hure light brent swith wel  ⁊ al oþer was oute þe folk þer of had wonder  and stoden in gret doute

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

Thow wost nomere þan þi fote  vp god it is Heve frendis quod þis good man  ȝe thru blame me nouȝt Wel I wote what Ihesu crⁱst  in my mouth haþ brouȝt As who seiþ of þat þing  þat ȝe han of me sede Telle ȝe may if it falle  after þat I am dede Bisshop he was of london  seint dunston siþ also Of london and of worcetere  he helde both two It bifelle þe Erchbisshop of Caunterburye  Sir Ode was dede Þe pope and king Edgar  þerof toke her rede And made þe good seint Dunston  Erchbissop þere Good men þat knewe him wel  glad þerof were The Cristendome of Engelonde  to good stat he drewe And þe right of holy chirch  he held up fast ynowe He formed þorgh all engelond  þat eche person shuld chese To kepe hem chaast from lecherye  or his churche lese Seint Aþelwold þat time  was bisshop of wynchestre And Seint Oswold þe good man  bisshop of Worcestre Thise tweyn Bisshopis  and Seint Dunston were of one rede And Edgar þis good dede king  to do þis good dede Thise bisshopis went about  þorgh all engelonde And wicked personys cast out  þer shuld hem non a stonde Her churches an her oþer good  clenly hem byname And bisette it on good men  þorgh gr^aunte of þe pope of Rome xlviij . Abbeis  of monkis and of nunne Of tresour þei did rere  of þe persons þei had wonne And þan it was wel bet bysette  þan it was erst for shrewen For euere þer good maisters ben  some good þey wil shewen Good were þe bisshope þre  at oon tyme þoo The bettere is Engelonde ȝit for hem  ⁊ shal be euermo Our lord ȝaue in erþe  þo Seint Dunston fair grace At oon tyme as he was  in a prⁱue place His fader ⁊ his moder eke  in ioye of heuene lay Aftere þat þei dede were apertly he say Grete loue oure lord hym kidde  whan he shewed hym þere So moch of his prⁱuete  whill he alyue were As he lay anoþer tyme  in his bed anyght He see þe Ioie of heuene  and a plas þer in briȝt Aungels herd sing  a mery songe þer Inne Þat men Syng ȝit in holy chirch  whan þei was bygynne