The First Life #

¹ Here begins the preface of the life of St Winwaloe of Cornugallia.

² The life of the holy and excellent father of monks,
Winwaloe, is woven here in a brief order of study,
Which I, Wurdestinus, at the common prayers of the brethren,
Strive to write in white books and read again for their good.
And though it fade when enlarged by my poor labour,
Whoever may wish to copy it into the ancients’ parchments,
Or to forbid it, or at some time to erase it, thinking it
Wrongly found — I warn him to keep it as it stands composed,
And to read back ours, and not to neglect these either, and
As a middle wayfarer between the two paths, on either side,
To choose for himself what pleases him, of old and new alike.
Therefore let him not pluck our work, which is propped
And strengthened by the bulwark of the fathers. I warn him
Not to batter it with envy’s frequent battering-ram.
For I do not drag anyone unwilling into this work;
But whoever is content with a draught of a little gift,
Him I invite to the feast of our modest table;
And whoever wishes to set down bright deeds without pretence,
All blemishes and rusticity utterly cast away,
Let him taste with a devout heart the must of ours,
And, drawn through the noble gate by the gift, bringing others in,
Let him be counted a learned guide.
These things had been covered beneath the ancients’ thick veil,
But set down in our writing they shine the clearer.
Therefore let us duly sing Christ his honour,
Who handed down to us such gifts as these; and may he
Deign more largely to loose my heart, to render me
The bright gift of a wondrous tongue — the Highest who
Presides over praises in the heavenly citadel,
The judge abiding at the summit of high heaven,
Fully hedged about with countless courts of the saints,
The King who shines out splendid with wondrous stars.

Here begin the chapter-headings of the first book and of the second #

¹ Of the renowned nobility of Britain, and of her crime, her scourges and the pestilence.

² Of a certain illustrious man named Fracan, who left his own land because of the foul pestilence and at that time took a certain estate — about the size of a single township — in the Armorican region.

³ Of the hoped-for third son and the father’s terrible vision.

⁴ Of his telling the vision to the blessed woman, and of the storm on the journey and the comfort given by the little boy.

⁵ Of their coming to the island.

⁶ Of the substance of holy living.

⁷ Of his first sign shown on the island in the brother who had broken his leg.

⁸ Of the teaching of prayer.

⁹ Of his mercy and his kindly consolation of the poor.

¹⁰ That what we learn of the use of doctrine and of discipline is one thing, and what we know of miracle is another.

¹¹ Of a certain brother who reproached him, and of the miracle worked there.

¹² Of his modest humility and the master’s comforting admonition.

¹³ Of those who cleave to the saints.

¹⁴ Of his sister, whose lost eye he restored.

¹⁵ Likewise of a certain pupil at the very point of death, destroyed by a serpent but raised by him as if from death.

¹⁶ Of a certain shepherd terrified by exceeding great lightning, but delivered by the saint through a revelation.

¹⁷ Likewise of the explanation of that vision.

¹⁸ Of the sportive contest between Fracan and Riwal, duke of Domnonia, over their swiftest horses, and of the wondrous miracle worked there.

¹⁹ Of the lofty thought that crept into his heart, to visit the holy places in which Patrick had dwelt; but he was warned in a dream not to wander, and that it was enough for him to remain in that Armorican land.

²⁰ Of his telling that vision to his devout master, and the master’s devout answer.

²¹ Of shunning the inventions of wandering monks.

²² Likewise of the master’s last farewell.

Here end the chapter-headings of the first book #

¹ Now the authors with whom we have filled out our own little sentences in these books — besides what we ourselves could draw from the fountains of sacred Scripture, and what we gathered from the firm root of this holy history of the same saint’s deeds — are these: Augustine, Cassiodorus, Isidore, Pope Gregory the Roman, John of Constantinople, the abbot Pymen questioned by the abbot Joseph, and any others there may be. We shall take care to note each of their names in the margins beside each passage, lest we seem to breed weariness in the reader by repeating the same things so often.

Here begins the life of St Winwaloe, which is on the fifth of the Nones of March #

¹ The island of Britain, from which our stock is commonly said to have sprung of old, renowned for the pleasantness of its places and once adorned with walls, towers and great buildings, is said to have had a great abundance of good things — exceeding fertile in corn, honey and milk alike, beyond all the lands adjoining it, though not at all rich in wine: for Bacchus does not love the cold, since that land is much contracted by the force of the north. So it, nourished with such goods, grew up at first like grass in the time of leaves; but soon, like a cornfield which is never pressed by frost — for when the burning heat rises it quickly puts out all the noxious things that devour the crops — it brought forth tares and the pestilent seed of tyrants. The fertility of the soil served it alone, and the rivers Severn and Thames, spread through the plains and divided through convenient places, supplied it with increases of plenty. For this whole region, using its goods ill, the abundance of things was the cause of evils. For from abundance grew luxury, foul lusts, idolatry, sacrilege, theft, adultery, perjury, murder, and the other offspring of vices by which the whole human race is wont to be bound. And not to repeat its ancient crimes more deeply — let him who wishes to know these things more fully read holy Gildas, who, writing of its site and habitation and of its wondrous conversion to Christ and then its falling away almost to the pagan rite, and of the divine vengeance that mournfully followed, and again of God’s pity lest it be utterly reduced to ashes and embers, argues many fitting things well and blamelessly from its deeds. But this land, once the home of Cyclopes and now, as it is said, the nurse of tyrants, has seldom or never long rested unpunished by the divine scourges for its sins. For it has been assailed either by frequent invasions of enemies, or by the citizens’ wars upon one another, or by famine, pestilence, the sword and most bitter diseases. Yet I do not think its own offspring was far from these ways — that offspring once carried in ships to this land on this side of the British sea. At no other time than when the barbarous race, long fierce in arms and lawless in manners, had possessed the Saxons’ mother soil, this dear offspring shut itself into this bosom, where in a safe place, wearied by great labours, it settled quietly on the shore without war. Meanwhile, a foul pestilence having suddenly arisen among the wretched inhabitants of their fathers’ fields, their pitiable corpses were strewn in heaps, beyond number and beyond burial. From this plague the ancient homeland was largely desolated; and at last a very few who had barely escaped the two-edged sword, leaving their native land, were bitterly compelled to seek a foreign country — either Scotland, hostile though it was, or Belgic Gaul.

² Among these was a certain illustrious man, the hope of a blessed offspring, named Fracan, the kinsman of Catovius, king of the Britons, a man most famous in the world’s eyes; in whose loins the sacred seed still lay hidden — after the pattern of Abraham, who was told to go out from his land and from his kindred, and that the Lord would give him seed there, in whose stock all the families of the earth would be blessed. This same king’s land was called Domnonia, in which such great sacrileges and unlawful marriages, illicit feasts and intolerable debaucheries had been perpetrated as are not wont to be heard of even among the gentiles — so that nearly the whole land had been destroyed by a foul disease with the heaviest stench and corruption; which plague not long after pursued across the sea even his still tender daughter. So this Fracan, with his lambs — that is, his twin sons called Weithnoc and James — and their mother named Alba, who is surnamed Three-breasted because she had three breasts equal to the number of her children — for her daughter is not reckoned in the count of breasts, since it is not the custom to weave a genealogy of women in the Scriptures — this man, I say, embarked on a vessel and made for Armorica, where a shady stretch of land was said still to lie untouched by the plague; and having crossed the British sea with a few companions, with the west wind gently blowing, he was carried into the harbour called Brac. There he at once surveyed everything nearby — it was about the eleventh hour of the day — and finding a certain estate, not small but about the size of a single township, hedged on every side with woods and thickets, already named after its founder, and enriched by the flood of a certain river properly called the Blood, he began to dwell there happily with his people, now safe from disease.

³ At that same time, as the number of companions gradually grew and a great abundance of goods flowed in, a third son was longed for — expressing the form of the holy and highest Trinity — as though it were too little to have only two sons. The blessed woman therefore perceived that she held the longed-for conception in her womb. Her husband, rejoicing at his pregnant wife, was touched with great gladness of heart, hoping the child would be his heir after him. All looked for the great day of the infant’s birth to come. So the longed-for day arrived, on which good things long awaited are shown to the homeland — a day, I say, which shone brighter for the Armoricans than all the days of the west. They called the child by the pure name of Winwaloe. And the most blessed infant, born of a blessed mother and nobly brought up by her according to the dignity of the world, as soon as he began to speak was accustomed to offer praise to God with wondrous intentness. And when his tender limbs had grown somewhat, though still much too young in age, he begged his father to hand him over to be steeped in the sacred study of letters under a certain spiritual father who could care for his soul and others’ — earnestly desiring to lead perpetual choirs among the celibate. But the father, refusing the most blessed boy’s prayers and much concealing the thing he did not likewise love, and flooded with great joy of heart, strove to make his beloved younger son an athlete of the world. But God, who turns all things to the better, terrified him one day as he was pasturing the flock with the shepherds — for it was the custom of the ancients to feed their own flocks themselves, like Abraham and Lot and the other fathers of the Old Testament — with the terrible crash of a flashing sky. Struck down by the strange light, he fell prostrate and half-alive to the ground, praying to God thus — and so his shepherds, shaken, at first feared the sight, then drew near cautiously, desiring to discern the hidden things; and, wholly ignorant of the secrets of this vision, afterwards related that he seemed to be in an ecstasy: “Lord God, almighty King, who can resist your will? For in your power all things are placed. Yours, not mine — yours, I say, but yours — the son you gave me, Winwaloe, I willingly offer on the altar of your praise; and not only this one whom you seek, the youngest, but his two brothers also I will give back to you, O God. For what shall I render to the Lord for all that he has rendered to me? But I know what I shall do: I will take the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord; I will pay my vows to God.” We see the thing that once happened to the preacher of the gentiles on the road to Damascus, in the time when he was persecuting Christ’s Church, almost renewed here: those who were with him heard the voice indeed but saw no one; but these men saw him begging with words and answering with tears, yet could in no way see the one rebuking him.

⁴ And without delay, shaken by the terrible fear, he returned home and told his wife all that had befallen him in the pastures. What or how he told, we do not know; but what he did next, we certainly are not ignorant of. For after seven days, together with the little boy, Christ’s new soldier, he went to a certain angelic master named Budoc, surnamed the Steep, endowed with knowledge, eminent in justice and equity, whom everyone at that time believed to be, as it were, a foundation of faith and a most firm column of the Church. But as they journeyed towards the island called Laurea, where the same light of faith shone, the whole sky was wrapped in darkness. The earth trembled, the air flashed with strokes of lightning, the straits boiled, and the whole sea was thrown into confusion with whirlwind and fire mingled with snow and hail, and black night seemed to hold the whole land. But the father, seeing himself surrounded by so great a storm, said: “I fear, beloved of God, lest our journey be hindered today.” But the boy, exulting with a glad spirit, said: “Why do you fear, father? The very creator of all creatures, who made all things when they were not, who enriched the sky with stars, adorned the earth with flowers, set a bound to the sea — he can also, when he wills, calm the injury of the air and assuage the sea’s waves; for nothing will be lacking to them that trust. One thing therefore is necessary: that we hold all our hope in him and remain ever in his love, because he first loved us. For if we ask anything in his name, since he is near to all who call upon him in truth, he will grant it, he will give to him that asks — for all things are possible to him that believes — and he that seeks shall hold what he finds; but from the unbeliever even that which he seems to have shall be taken away.” As the boy spoke these and many other things, his father silently pondering the matter in his heart and marvelling who this man might be — for the hand of the Lord was with him — and there, the sun suddenly appearing, the whole country called Veljanensis shone out, and a most serene day dawned until evening.

⁵ So when the sun at last was sinking down the slopes of the sky towards the south, the same man, hastening to the appointed place and using familiar converse with the teacher just named, set out the whole reason for his journey and showed the master his difficulty. But the noble teacher, drinking in the narrator’s words with attentive mind and pondering them a while within himself, then at last ordered the little boy to be brought to him. And he, stirred by the Holy Spirit, at once — hastening as though already steeped in many years, with no one teaching him — cast his whole body prostrate on the ground and approached so great a patron in adoration. But the master, foreseeing in the divine spirit, and already seeing him shining, thus began and addressed the boy’s father, saying: “The boy whom you commend to me I see surpassing his age in character, and in a child’s form I see a full-grown man; a boy in innocence, chastity and purity, yet already skilfully instructed by divine wisdom in the sagacity of his mind — a garden enclosed and sealed of Solomon, ever full of all manner of fruits.” When these and other things had been agreed between them, the little boy’s father — if it is right to call him little who is already seen to be great in God’s contemplation — rising in the morning and receiving the man of God’s blessing, returned home in prosperity by the way he had come. But the blessed boy, though still an infant, was stricken by no grief of weariness after his parents — as some little children are wont to grow weary when they are sent apart by their parents to school — but remained steadfast with the same master in the monastery, as though already an elder. And at once, within the course of a single day, he learned fully all the letters of the alphabet; and thenceforward, the grace of God’s gifts increasing mightily in him not only with the number of years but, so to speak, of days and hours and moments, he stored up in his heart all the sayings of the old divine library and of the new law with their mysteries, and became an excellent scholar and searcher of the holy Scriptures.

⁶ He learned first the substance of holy living, and prudently turning everything he read back upon himself, then instructed others in turn. For the form of holy conversation is this: to seek the royal way by which one goes to God — which I think is none other than holy Scripture, in which the whole man sees himself, what he is and where he is going. In divine reading, without doubt, all hope and salvation consists, and all progress proceeds from reading and meditation. For it is necessary first to know what you seek, before desiring what you do not know. For what we do not know we learn by reading; but what we have learned we keep by meditation. And as by reading we long to know, so by knowing we ought to fulfil the right things we have learned; for he will not be free of blame who reads the divine Scriptures and does not turn them into works. For indeed many, having received the knowledge of the Scriptures, despise it through neglect, not using it for God’s glory. Others have a love of knowledge but use it for their own praise, exalting themselves by that very knowledge, and sin there where they ought to have washed away sins; and while God’s word shines for the faithful, it somehow darkens for the reprobate and proud — by the same thing the former are enlightened, the latter blinded. But this man of whom we speak, becoming not a forgetful hearer but a doer of the work, spent his time either in divine reading and meditation or in prayer and work — by which three, joined with charity, the whole holy rule is plainly fulfilled. While still a youth he afflicted his body with fasts of two and often three days, and, in Paul’s words bringing it into servitude, he alone eagerly performed the work which might have been added to another brother joined with him in the same labour. For although this kind of fasting is not judged most commendable by the ancients — yet because, as the earth watered by continual rains often vomits forth noxious growths, so the flesh gladdened by daily feasts suggests to the mind the basest impulses — I think it necessary for every youth to afflict his body with daily fasts and heavy labour. For we read that a certain one of the fathers, asked about fasting, answered thus: that he wished to eat daily but continually to withdraw a little from himself, lest he be fully sated. And when asked further about this — whether, when he was a youth in the desert, he fasted two days at a stretch — he is reported to have said: “Believe me, three days, and often weeks. But the great elders proved all these things and found it good to eat daily, and each day to diminish some small thing lest satiety creep in, and they showed us that this is the royal way, because it is lighter and easier than the rest.”

⁷ Not long after this, when the same spiritual father had gone to a certain place for the sake of prayer, and the disciples had been left on the island, bound by the master’s charges lest they fall into any immoderate sport — which was not kept long — for that ancient enemy of the human race, the sower of evil tares, ever envious of quiet and peace, wielding the savage weapons of his malice against God’s servants in a thousand arts of harm, like a roaring lion watched all the places round about the sheepfolds for an entry by which to break in while the shepherd was away — he swiftly displayed this one thing, all that he could then do; and as in blessed Job’s case, even here he was frustrated, since as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so also do the consolations, and the more each one is drenched by the showers of temptations, if he always resists, the more excellent the crown with which he is wreathed in victory, the enemy confounded — one of them, still flowering in boyish age, running about the plains with certain lighter companions at play and forgetting the old man’s command or, as often happens even now, counting it small, by God’s permission — lest the most holy man’s virtue, not shown, be longer hidden from men, as will be shown in the course of this work — broke his leg and was at once afflicted with a great fall. And at once mourning with great heart’s grief was mingled with the play, and every heart, of great and small alike, was stricken with vehement sorrow and fear alike. For all who were present, gathering into one and made deeply sad on account of the injured boy, and especially shaken with fear because of the old man’s prohibition, blushing to see his face at all, were drenched in tearful lamentation and said, weeping: “What shall we do, or where shall we go? Shall we flee, or wait? What excuse shall we have? He, the skilled fighter, taught us by his own words to guard ourselves against the ancient enemy’s snares. But we, negligent and despisers of his word, counted his decree small. Now therefore, since we would not obey his command, let us at least learn by experience, after falling into so great an evil, how great an evil it is to despise our elders’ commands. For we did not understand before, or rather — more truly — counted as nothing what is written: ‘He who hears you hears me, and he who despises you despises me.’ So we have despised not only our teacher but him whose command is fulfilled in our being obeyed. For because we have sinned against God’s saint, we deservedly suffer these things: since whatever obedience or disobedience is done to his saints, God counts it to himself, not to them.” As they said these and many other things with a deep sigh of the heart, and there the most blessed Winwaloe, at the prompting of the Holy Spirit — for God no longer willed his virtue to be hidden but to display it, for all to see, as a sign and example, like a torch upon a candlestick — looking on their sadness and imposing silence with his hand, addressed them with such words as these: “Men, brothers and fathers, weep no more, be no longer cast down in spirit. For no suffering is so evil that it cannot be healed, since the physician is not far off if he is sought with an unfeigned and inmost heart — he who cures the wounds of all who confess to him, even without any poultices of herbs applied. Therefore, since you have wept much — and see what good you have found in it — climb into the bosom of prayer, ever the most faithful refuge of the fathers in every distress and the safest wall. Let each one of us therefore, separately, approach Christ faithfully in prayer. Do you perhaps think that he who made all things and fashioned every limb of this little boy could not restore even an injured foot — that he will refuse to re-create it for all of us who ask, he who in the Gospel so often taught his disciples the faith by which we trust this can be done, promising they could remove even a mountain or obtain whatever they asked with a good heart?” Trusting in this exhortation, they all prayed to God with one accord. But he alone, lifting eyes and hands to heaven, prayed most earnestly, saying: “Lord Jesus Christ, who raised up the world lying in filth through Adam’s disobedience; who sweetened with the trophy of your holy cross the fruit of the forbidden tree eaten by the ancient parents; who did assign that fugitive tyrant to the fires of hell; who promised eternal life to your servants; who are not at all far from those who seek you; who by your servants, as often as you have been begged, have adorned the blind with sight, the maimed with hands, the lame with steps and the lifeless with life — grant also to us, though far unlike those who deserved to obtain these things of you, we beg, to restore this boy whole and sound.” And at once, the prayer finished, he returned to the boy, and signing the place of the wound with the sign of the cross and taking his right hand, said: “Arise quickly, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Without delay, at the sound of God’s servant’s voice, he rose up sound, as though he had suffered no harm before, no trace of injury remaining. And when this was done, he charged the brothers to reveal it to no one, reckoning the deed to their merits rather than his own — following the example of the Saviour coming down from the mountain. For indeed he always wished everything he did to be concealed; but the more he wished it hidden, the more God made it shown. So when the old man returned from his journey and came to the approach of the place, all that had been done was made known to him by those who told it; and rejoicing with inward gladness and pondering within himself who this might be, through whose hand Christ worked these things while still at this age, he gave thanks to God.

⁸ So, the sign of his virtue having been shown beforehand, let us now see in what manner the prayer was said in which this same saint excelled — namely, in two ways. For when it is conducted among men it is called the reckoning of speech; when it is poured out to the Majesty it is a wholesome and life-giving humble supplication. Prayer is of the heart, not of the lips: for God does not heed the words of the one who pleads, but looks upon the heart of the one who prays. For if the heart prays silently and the voice is still, though it be hidden from men, it cannot be hidden from God, who is present to the conscience. It is better to pray silently with the heart without the sound of the voice than with words alone without the mind’s attention. Therefore, instructing them in the form of prayer, he bids each one pray separately and in secret, lest one be hindered by another’s importunity. For I do not think him ignorant, filled as he was with so great a store of the Scriptures, that we are commanded to pray in closed chambers — by which name the secret places of the mind are signified — for any other reason than that God does not seek to be taught by our speech in order to grant us what we desire. For he who speaks gives outwardly a partial sign of his will; but God is to be sought and entreated in the very secrets of the rational soul, which is called the inward man — for he willed these to be his temples. Have you not read in the apostle: “Know you not that you are the temple of God and the Spirit of God dwells in you,” and that Christ dwells in the inner man? And have you not marked in the prophet: “What you say in your hearts, be pricked in your beds; sacrifice the sacrifice of justice and hope in the Lord”? Where do you think the sacrifice of justice is sacrificed, if not in the temple of the mind and in the chambers of the heart? Where the sacrifice is to be made, there also is prayer. Therefore there is no need of speech when we beg — that is, of sounding words — except perhaps as priests do, to signify their own mind, not that God may hear but that men may, and be lifted up to God by a kind of consent. But let it not move you that the greatest Master, when he taught his disciples to pray, taught certain words — in which he seems to have done nothing else than teach how one ought to speak in prayer; for he taught them not so much words as the things themselves by words, by which they might also make themselves understood to him from whom and for whom prayer was to be made, when they prayed with the secret places of the mind, as has been said. Let the most devout Christian understand that this manner of holy prayer is to be kept: that he thinks on the very thing he prays, that he sees with his mind the one he supplicates, that he shuts out all superfluous thoughts and admits nothing foreign — lest, as someone says, he be seen to send improvident boars into the purest fountains. Hence also the rosy hymn of holy Ambrose at the sixth hour, after the apostle, has fragrance; for he says: “I will pray to the Lord with my mind — I will pray also with my spirit — lest the voice alone sing to God — while our sense, led elsewhere — strays wandering — overtaken by vain chances. — For then the prayer of those who sing is acceptable to God — if the pure mind does the same — that the voice of the song unfolds.”

⁹ At the same time also, God’s grace increasing in him before God and men and wisdom running ahead of him while still tender — lest he be condemned by the reckoner as a wicked keeper of money ill-buried — he began at once to feed all the lesser brothers he found — whom the supreme Master does not disdain to call his brothers — with the administration of bodily food even beyond his means, and with the refreshment of the divine food, being now no deaf hearer of the divine utterance that says: “He that stops his ear lest he hear the cry of the poor, shall himself also cry, and there shall be none to hear him.” And elsewhere: “As long as you did it to one of the least of mine, you did it to me.” For as soon as a poor man cried out, he — giving thanks to God — hastened, yet with all gravity and modesty, unless perhaps he was occupied in some business of the divine office which could in no way be deferred, and ran to him to bring him aid at once; and for those whom he could not feed with bodily substance, since he scarcely had any, he often relieved their hearts with the hope of eternal recompense, calling to mind for them the Gospel with the inmost sigh of his heart and the most abundant complaints of tears beating upon God: “Blessed shall you be, you that now weep and hunger, for you shall laugh and be filled”; and he did not cease to rear them on heavenly riches, which never know loss by being scattered but grow ever more by being given, with increase of usury. But as Clement, Christ’s servant, sang of him in the hymn of his praise composed in metre with good reason and rhythm — Clement, still clear-sighted in mature age, alas, cut off not long after by an untimely death — when he had no earthly treasures, he offered heavenly ones. He also, as it is written of a certain one, was a burning and a shining lamp: burning indeed, whose life did not differ from his doctrine — burning with love for instructing his neighbours in the better way; shining in the good example of his speech by continual ministry. And as fire, whose wont it is that the more fuel is laid beneath it the higher it rises when kindled, so he, the more he wished to be kept in silence, was the more, by God’s ordering, sometimes made known to the world in deed and word alike.

¹⁰ Nor need we marvel why this man, described as still of such an age, dared also to inform others by his speech, since Jeremiah and Daniel as boys were filled with the spirit of prophecy. To one of whom it is said, when he wished to excuse himself for the tenderness of his age: “Say not, I am a child, for you will go to all that I send you, and whatever I command you you will speak.” And the other, though a boy, judged the aged priests, God stirring up his spirit. And to Timothy it is said: “Command these things and teach. Let no man despise your youth.” Yet it should be known that in sacred speech youth is sometimes called adolescence, and so it is written: “Rejoice, O young man, in your youth.” But lest anyone think I write these things in order to permit any weaker persons of whatever age to presume the office of preaching and to ascend more quickly to holy orders — setting before them the holy canons which unanimously forbid this in every way — let him know by open reason that miracles of power are not to be drawn into an example of the rule. For almighty God makes even the tongues of infants eloquent, and out of the mouths of babes and sucklings he perfects praise. But what we say of the use of doctrine and discipline is one thing; what we know of miracle is another. For since Ezekiel is written to have received the spirit of prophecy in the thirtieth year of his age, this shows us something great to be considered — namely, that according to the use of reason the speech of doctrine is not fitting save in mature age. So the Lord himself, sitting in the midst of the doctors in the temple in the twelfth year of his age, willed to be found not teaching but asking questions. For so that men should not dare to teach in a weak age, he who through his divinity always teaches the angels in heaven deigned to question men on earth in the twelfth year of his age. For since he is the wisdom of God, the angels drink by seeing him of that with which they are sated in eternal beatitude. Moses also admonishes under the mystery of allegory, saying: “You will not plough with the firstling of an ox.” For we take the firstling of the ox to be the good working of our first time in our weak age. In which there must be no ploughing, because in the first times of our adolescence or youth we must still refrain from preaching, lest the ploughshare of our tongue dare to cleave the soil of another’s heart. For as long as we are weak, we must keep ourselves within ourselves, lest while we display the good land too soon we lose it: for even planted saplings, if they are not first rooted in the earth, wither quickly at a hand’s touch; but if they have once fixed their root, the hand’s touch does them no harm, the winds buffet them and yet do not hurt them. And built walls, if they are pushed, are thrown down unless they have first been dried of their moisture. So the mind, until it has been perfectly dried of the moisture of its own depravity, must not be touched by the hand of an alien tongue — lest, before it fully understands, it lose its solidity; lest, pushed, it fall; lest like a sapling without roots, while it is shaken more than it can bear, it wither away. Therefore nothing is to be set forth for imitation except what is firm: for the mind must first grow strong and only afterwards be shown for the profit of its neighbours — when it can neither fall raised up by praise nor waste away struck by censure. Therefore, that it may be shown of what authority the prophet is in preaching, he is described as being of a solid age, so that with the spirit of life all things that belong to preaching may seem to agree in him. Let it suffice to have recorded in this place all these things about the discipline of preaching and about God’s grace, which is not to be denied even in the least but rather preached and wondered at, fitted for the profit of readers’ neighbours, as I think, lest anyone should rashly and improvidently presume to usurp this also and trample it at will. Yet if it should please me, running through the meadows of the holy Scriptures — which like violet-beds and rose-gardens mingled with lilies offer a most sweet fragrance — to gather little flowers, and in weaving a little basket for our poverty in which a few of St Winwaloe’s many merits may be stored, here and there to insert one where a place appears among the osiers, I beg you not to be displeased, burdened by so great a digression and wearied by so great a delay: for the more often I am gladly led from this purpose to consult holy Scripture, the more gladly, well supported, do I return by God’s mercy to the desired harbour with its profit.

¹¹ But lest we seem to overstep the proper bounds of history, let us return, under God’s guidance, to what was begun. Once upon a day, while he was soothing the hearts of the poor with the honeyed sweetness of the heavenly oracle as was his wont, promising them the hope of eternal reward and mingling the comforts of prayer, and greatly bewailing their need, it happened that a certain member of the scholars’ company passed by. He, at once stricken with the envy of spite and violently angry against God’s servant — since he could not himself do such things, for the envious man always wastes away where the good man profits — bursting into words of mockery and unkindness, rebuked him with such words, saying: “Is it then you who perform these vain works of mercy, as it were, upon God’s poor? Look — the wandering poor lying in the streets are daily gathered in to be instructed by you, and yet they go away empty, profited by nothing. How is it then that, labouring all day, you pitiably waste your work on so ignoble a mob, feigning a mercy whose affection you do not have? Would it not be better to bring aid to those who have nothing by more largely bestowing alms than always to make inquiry about their need, as you most foolishly are wont? Are you then the one by whose shadow alone all the sick who ask are healed, or at whose word the lame man is raised who denied he had money? Or if you can do none of these things I proclaim, trusting in the power of your Lord God — as it is beyond all doubt you cannot — why do you madly boast these things as though mighty in word and work? Look, I have warned you of what is useful. But as you began — my opinion is no concern of yours — do all that you wish, or rather, all that you can.” But blessed Winwaloe, opening his mouth and giving thanks to God, humbly and with a most joyful countenance returned him this answer for such a reproach, saying: “Blessed be you, dearest brother, for you have brought forth most fitting testimonies for me, as was fitting. While all men’s eyes are closed, yours alone are open, who could judge these things so rightly about me.” When this had been said, the other departed full of anger and fury, drunk with the poisonous drops of envy as with wine through all his bowels. Then at once St Winwaloe, taking up a certain blind man from among the sick, led him apart to a more secret place. And praying thus, he said: “As you healed the eyes of the blind who cried to you, ‘Have mercy on us, son of David,’ so deign, Lord Jesus Christ, to heal the eyes of this brother also who trusts in you.” Then opening his eyes with his hands and spitting into them, he said to him: “Silver and gold have I none; but what I have, that give I you. In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, look up.” And his eyes being opened, he who had been led sad from the gate ran back to it rejoicing, no one leading him. When the master heard these things from those who told them — though they were wholly ignorant how they had happened — giving thanks to God he ran gladly and quickly, yet with the utmost gravity lest anyone be puffed up in mind, to the gate. And asking which of them had been given sight and how, he learned from a certain man that he had been blind, but had been brought in by a certain youth and healed. And the old man marvelling for joy said: “What did he do to you, or how did he open your eyes?” And he answered: “I sat a beggar and blind, hoping to receive something from the passers-by among the poor. But he drew me, seeing nothing, by the hand — I thought to give me alms — and when he had excused himself that he had not the money of this world, soon to perish, he gave me instead this better gift, the light of my eyes.” The old man said to this: “What manner of man is he who gave you sight when you had none?” And he who had been blind answered: “Such a one I do not see among you.” And the old man said: “Could you recognise him if you saw him?” He said: “Yes, lord.” So the old man ordered all the scholars to be gathered. When they were gathered and the poor man had scanned all their faces, and it came to St Winwaloe: “It is he,” said the poor man — but now rich by the light he had gained — “who made me whole.” Hearing this, the old man and his disciples fell prostrate on the ground together in adoration; and warned by the Holy Spirit they sang this hymn as it were with one mouth:

Elegiac verses #

¹ This excellent boy, sparkling with great splendour,
Winwaloe was the very pattern of Christ:
Not that he was rich, or by chance of greater strength.

After the song, the prose begins #

¹ These little verses, uttered by a pious boy in praise of God’s pious soldier under God’s inspiration, were in truth most gladly received by all; for the scholars of the same venerable master are said to have frequented them eagerly, as though repeating them as a new thing and sweet to the taste. And so by their frequent rehearsal the words of the song grew to such an extent that no one at that time could be found who did not have them in his mouth day and night, singing with a cheerful heart and a devout mind. But our Winwaloe, who never forgot his own humility, nor ever thought himself raised by any praise of men, blushed deeply at the glory and was confounded within himself — the more praised by their mouths, the more weighed down in heart by shamefacedness, and the more he strove to hide himself. For he feared lest the poison of pride should creep into him, and that the commendation of his own mouth should turn back upon his own head to his ruin.

² And indeed, that no small humility reigned in his mind was shown by what happened on a certain day, when his master, coming into the chapel where the brothers were gathered together, found him, still a boy, among the rest — the least, so to speak, of the little ones. For when he was told by the master to expound some portion of the sacred reading, at once, his cheeks burning with modesty and casting his eyes to the ground, he began to excuse himself in a trembling voice, protesting that he had not the strength of mind or tongue for such things, though he inwardly burned with the fire of divine knowledge. But the father, smiling a little — for he knew what was hidden — said to him kindly: “Why do you shrink, my son? The Lord does not ask of you what you have not; only give him what he has given you.” Then the boy, receiving courage and at the same time reverence from the master’s words, opened his mouth and unfolded the sacred Scripture so learnedly and sweetly that all who heard were astonished — and the master himself gave thanks to God, perceiving that this youth would be a vessel of election.

³ For the lamp that burns in secret but does not profit others by its light is indeed a coal; but he who, set in the imitation of holiness, shows forth from himself the light of uprightness to many, is a lamp — because he burns for himself and shines for others. And those who set before us examples of virtue and show the light of good works to wayfarers by their life and word are rightly called lamps, because by the heat of desire and the flame of the word they drive the darkness of error from sinners’ hearts. Therefore God has set the virtues of the saints before us for an example, so that as the rewards of righteousness can be conferred on us by imitating them, so the torments may be the heavier for persisting in evil. For if the divine commandments, by which we might be admonished, were lacking to stir us to good, the examples of the saints would suffice us for a law. But since God both admonishes us by commandments and sets before us the examples of the saints’ good works, there is now no excuse for guilt — for both God’s law daily strikes our ears and the records of good deeds provoke the inmost parts of our heart. And if we have often followed the examples of the wicked, why do we not imitate the worthy and God-pleasing deeds of the saints? And if we were quick to imitate the unrighteous for evil, why are we slow to imitate the just for good? God therefore is to be prayed that the virtues he prepared for the saints’ crown may be for our progress, not our punishment. And they will profit to our progress if we are willing to imitate the examples of virtue. But certainly if we shun them rather than imitate them, they will be to our damnation — for we cannot fulfil them by merely reading, unless we strive to fulfil them by imitating and doing.

⁴ Some days after this, when the brothers were going about their accustomed tasks, an angel of the Lord appeared to blessed Winwaloe as he was watching alone, and said to him in a vision of the night: “Arise quickly, Winwaloe, and be no longer slow; for your only sister has lost her eye — a goose struck it out as she tended the flock — and your grieving parents, poor souls, do not know why she has lost it. But the place where it is hidden is the goose’s belly. Therefore, wavering not at all in your heart but ever trusting in God’s mercy, who is wont to bring aid to them that rightly ask, when you come to the appointed place you shall take the same bird — it will not be unknown to you, for it towers high above the rest — and cutting open its belly you shall recover your sister’s eye and set it back sound and whole in its former place. For the Lord, to whom no word is impossible, will work this sign through you, and will through you — through you, I say — restore your sister whole to your parents. Nor let any small thought cling to you in excuse, saying: ‘I have left Egypt and do not wish to return to it,’ and recalling the Gospel: ‘Let the dead bury their dead.’ For if these things were urged on you by human speech, most truly would these same testimonies be fittingly brought forward by you. But if they are divine, or indeed, as you hear, angelic, how can you refuse to impart to your parents what you have so gracefully bestowed on all in common?” At this St Winwaloe stood unmoved and said: “Now that all the clouds by which I was hindered have been rolled far away by you — look — a servant not only of the Lord but of his servants, I go forth eager and willing to all that I may be bidden at the Lord’s command.” And the angel said: “This is the sum of obedience — that what is commanded be done not tardily nor lukewarmly: for obedience with a mind devoted to God is greater than all sacrifices and burnt-offerings.” Having said this, the angel of the Lord at once vanished into the air. And St Winwaloe girded himself and without delay made the journey. And when he had come to his parents, seeing them worn out with grief for their daughter, now almost breathing her last, he asked — as though ignorant — the cause and manner of this sorrow and groaning. But they, saying they knew nothing at all, kept answering thus: “You yourself know, you know, saint of God: for we are sure that no secret, God revealing it, is hidden from you. But if you can do anything, and if any grace of your own blood anywhere calls you to mercy, help us while we still live. Otherwise you will at least bury us your parents dead, together with this your sister — if it is right to say you have fleshly kinsfolk, you who are already joined, most beloved, to the heavenly hosts.” At last therefore he ordered the flock of geese to be gathered again, and had that one which he saw standing higher than the rest caught and cut open; and from its divided belly he brought forth his sister’s eye, according to the angel of God’s foretold word, and after giving thanks to God set it back in its place as it had been before. And the same bird too, suffering no injury — which perhaps will be reckoned, as I think, a no smaller miracle — unharmed, as though untouched by anyone, exulting and strutting proudly with neck stretched long, went singing to the other birds. And those whom lamentation and nothing but lamentation and groaning had held were turned to joy at St Winwaloe’s coming, the friendly grief of death being driven away by God’s help, saying: “Blessed is he that comes in the name of the Lord, and blessed above all is God, who sent us such a comforter — who daily fulfilling his promises deigns wondrously to work many signs and wonders in his saints.” When these things were done, and he had admonished those same parents with peaceful and consoling words and confirmed them with humble blessing in good works — for so it was fitting that he who had begotten him for this world should be regenerated by him for the world to come — without long delay he passed back to his own, with a countenance shining like an angel’s, most lowly.

⁵ It happened not long after that a certain boy named Tethgon, one of his pupils, was overcome by an unlawful sleep while on watch — for the ancient enemy, who never sleeps, had hidden a deadly serpent in that place. And the boy, feeling himself mortally bitten and the poison creeping through his limbs, ran to the saint, who was not far off, and falling at his feet cried out with sighs and tears: “Help me, most blessed father, for I am dying. I have been struck by a serpent, and already the poison is coursing through all my limbs. I firmly believe that whatever you shall ask, God will give you.” And saying this, as though already breathing out his spirit, his limbs failing through the poison, he fell prostrate to the ground. But the most blessed Winwaloe, addressing him with a father’s affection and stretching out his arm with a slight smile, said: “Has the place of sleep then departed from your mind? The ancient enemy could have done you no harm except through sleep. For I had commanded that no one should seek an unauthorised hour for sleeping, just as for eating or drinking. Mark now the devices of the cunning serpent — ever wakeful in evil things, going about seeking whom he may devour — which were not yet known to you: for though you slept, he never rests. The more secure you are, the more he sharpens the weapons of his malice and ceases not to fix his claw upon your heart.” And saying no more, he raised him with his right hand: “Go,” he said, “show me the place where the unlawful sleep seized you.” And without delay, weak though he was — yet driven by necessity, reckoning it his own fault and trusting, his conscience accusing him — he went to the place, and lamenting much, said: “See the place where I, wretched, gave myself to a little rest.” Then St Winwaloe, prostrating his body to the ground in prayer, surveying all the places round about and cleansing the earth with the point of his staff, at last found a certain cleft where the light-shunning serpent, devoid of true light, had always hidden itself, loving dark hiding-places. And as soon as its signs were found, he cried: “Whatever deadly seed lurks in that cleft, break forth, come out, learn the trophies of Christ!” And not long delaying, at the hearing of Christ’s name — wondrous to see — the scaly serpent appeared, hissing with swelling neck. But at once, pierced by the banner of Christ’s cross hurled from the man of God’s hand, gainsaying nothing, twisted round, struck by no man, the wretch perished beyond excuse. And the saint, giving thanks to God, asked for water, and mixing it with oil poured in blessing, gave it to the sick man, almost consumed by the poison, to drink. And at once in him who had almost died, the poison being speedily drawn out again through his limbs in wondrous wise, his enlivened members gradually regathered their vital strength. And the man of the Lord, most prudently warning that the serpent’s head must be crushed where it appeared — openly showing that one must quickly resist a wicked sight where it emerges — and doing nothing presumptuously, gave back thanks and praises to God together with the healed boy and all who stood round. And his father Fracan, hearing of this miracle also, ran to him and said: “My son, my strength, my sole great power, I beg you to entreat the Lord your God that such a pestilent kind may nowhere appear in this region which is called Breona.” And so it came to pass, he calling upon God, that no serpentine kind is said to have appeared at all in that region thereafter; and if any has ever been brought there by anyone, even to this day, for the sake of testing, it at once hisses as though pierced by a trident and stretches itself out to die — through the grant of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom is dominion, honour and power for ever and ever. Amen.

⁶ And once upon a day it happened that a certain shepherd, pasturing his flock in the fields of that region, was suddenly struck by exceeding great thunderbolts, so that he was almost driven out of his mind with fear. And at once — the shepherd and his whole flock being struck and thrown down — the man came back to himself, as though roused from a heavy swoon, and seeing all his sheep alive and unharmed, gave thanks to God; but being still terrified, and not knowing why the thing had befallen him, he hastened to a certain holy man who dwelt not far off, to learn the cause. But the man of God, foreknowing all things in the spirit, said to him: “Go, brother, and tell the man of God Winwaloe what has befallen you — he will tell you why it happened; for he is near, and he it is whom God wills should reveal hidden things to you.” The shepherd therefore, coming to St Winwaloe, fell at his feet and told him all that had befallen. The saint, smiling gently, answered: “It was the ancient enemy who terrified you, brother — he who, being cast down from heaven, ever envies man’s peace. But God permitted it that you might learn how great is his own protection over those who trust in him. For the lightning was not sent to destroy but to instruct — that you might know how frail is this present life, and how necessary it is always to be prepared.” And the shepherd, hearing these things, was much comforted, and being instructed in the fear of God returned to his flock rejoicing, telling all what the man of God had revealed to him — that from that day he might live more circumspectly, giving thanks to God who had delivered him from so great a terror.

Hexameter verses heroic #

¹ Holy guardian of God’s flock,
Who drive off the goats that lay waste,
Who, Christ’s chosen, do probe the inmost
Things, and grant sure gifts to them that ask —
Winwaloe, keep the lowing herds
Of your servant, and drive far off the cruel
Foe who ever lies in wait for the fold.
Grant that the flock may feed in rich pastures,
And by night be guarded from beasts;
Let no wolf tear the lambs I keep,
Nor the thief break into the sheepfold.
For you are able to do all things
For them that call on your name in faith;
Whose prayer God hears from on high.
So now grant what I ask in my need,
And keep the flock committed to me.
I shall sing your praise without ceasing,
And tell your wonders to all men,
That all may know how great is the glory
Of them that serve Christ with a whole heart.
May the good shepherd’s reward be given you,
Nor may the unrighteous word fall from your mouth.

When the verses were finished, I began again in prose #

¹ Now the man of God, having heard these things from the rustic — for the shepherd himself told him the song and showed him what had happened — received him kindly and, after instructing him in the faith, sent him back rejoicing to his flock, glorifying God. And the shepherd, returning home, told his wife and his neighbours all that had befallen him and what the saint had revealed; and they, hearing it, marvelled and praised God who gives such grace to his servants. And from that time the shepherd clung to St Winwaloe with a devout heart, often coming to him for instruction and bringing with him also others who desired to hear the word of God — so that by this occasion many were turned to a better life, the enemy’s devices being frustrated and God’s glory made manifest in his servant.

² And a long time after, when he had grown in age and grace, and the flame of divine love daily increased in him, he began to think within himself how he might attain to the higher things of contemplation — for he had heard that blessed Patrick, the great apostle of the Irish, had dwelt in certain holy places, and his heart burned to visit them. But the thing was not hidden from God, who had already prepared for him another course. For one night, as he slept, there appeared to him in a dream a certain man of venerable countenance, shining with marvellous light, who said to him: “Winwaloe, where do you hasten? Why do you seek to wander over the lands? The things you desire to know in a foreign soil you can assuredly know while remaining in your own. I am Patrick, whom you desire to visit. Do not be troubled. But you shall not dwell long here — for God himself, Christ, will be your master when it is so. Why should not Christ carve and adorn a choice seat for himself — that is, the breast of his little servant — with sweet-smelling gems of wondrous beauty, that is, with the nourishings of the virtues? You have — I am not ignorant — the Old and the New Testament, teachable with knowledge. Live ever in these and meditate on what springs from their roots; nothing else, I tell you, need be sought. You have also a most loving patron, whose words, sweet as honey, may ever savour in your mouth; you have also the pattern of us which you saw and heard. Therefore, following this also — though you will not dwell long here — you have in your own land what you wished to seek in a foreign one. Seek no further, I beg you; but go, seek a place with others whom your master shall give you, fitly suited to you as he himself knows. But remember them and the many others to come, for you shall be their teacher and guide. Yet let the sight of our presence, so far as you have seen it, suffice you; but let the memory of us and — what is far greater — of Christ, never depart from your heart.” Having said these and many other things — teaching indeed all things that must regularly be done — he quickly vanished from his sight.

³ And rising in the morning he related the vision to his devout master. The holy man, hearing it and giving thanks to God, thus answered him devoutly: “Most beloved son, the vision you have seen is from God, not from the enemy — for the enemy ever suggests wandering and instability, but God strengthens and confirms in their place those whom he chooses. The angelic man whom you saw was Patrick himself, sent to instruct you that you should not wander, but should seek in this Armorican land the place which Christ shall show you. For he has destined you to be a father of many monks in this land, and to enlighten this western region with the light of your teaching. Therefore take counsel with me, and we shall choose for you companions suited to the work — eleven brothers, for so the Lord has revealed — and you shall go forth in the name of the Lord, and he himself will be your guide and the founder of your dwelling.” And the young man, hearing the master’s answer, was much strengthened, and gave himself wholly to prayer and to the study of the Scriptures, waiting upon God’s good pleasure until the appointed time should come.

⁴ And after a space of time, when all things had been prepared, the blessed father Budoc called the brothers together and chose from among them eleven men of proved life to go with Winwaloe. And when they were gathered, the old man spoke to them with tears: “My sons, the time has come when I must part from you and send you forth — and this Winwaloe, my most beloved son — as a man sends his children to inherit a foreign land. I know that I shall not see you again in the flesh; yet I rejoice because God has chosen you, though fleshly affection suddenly suggests this sadness to me — and myself, now declining into old age and squalid, bereft, who shall receive consolation from no one. Farewell, farewell, and have peace. For who is so dull as to wish to resist God’s will, since man can do nothing good of himself, but the Most High himself, out of the abundance of his goodness, fills with good things the hearts of them that cleave to his testimonies — he who kindles before they begin, and when he has kindled, nourishes, and when he has nourished, keeps? Have peace among you, not forsaking charity. Therefore, not troubling yourselves about the things from which man is forbidden by God in the earth — for he who created you will himself supply all things fitting for you if your ways please him — give yourselves to reading with humility, lest anyone be puffed up by his knowledge, which he knows is given him not of himself but of God; serve the work of your hands with contrition and humiliation of heart, lest anyone seek human favour for his craft, nor let him desire greater honour for it than he who does not know it. For the same God who works all things in all has made both — him who knows that are and him who does not; and sometimes it comes to pass by God’s dispensation that he who now lacks in this abounds in that, and he who now abounds in this lacks in that. For God, I think, made no man at all devoid of every are; but to each he granted one or two or sometimes three or occasionally several, by which he might be fed — that God may be glorified in all, through all. Attend to prayer, with the continued moderation of fasts and vigils according to the regular and ancient tradition of the fathers who despised this world. Why then do I linger longer? For in these three sayings, if you unravel all things well, are contained all that pertains to this life which you desire — whether you wish to give attention to the active or the contemplative or both together. Keep these things ever among you when, God granting, you have found the settled place in which to work them — things which you have either seen or learned done by me, or which have already been shown by St Patrick, or are to be shown by any other catholic teacher who follows the holy writers.”

⁵ “Beware, moreover, my sons, of the inventions of wandering monks — those who, ever unstable, run from place to place, sowing novelties and despising the ancient paths of the fathers. For there are some who, under a show of holiness, teach new and unheard-of things; do not receive them, lest you be led astray from the royal way. For it is the work of hypocrites to begin much and quickly to leave it unfinished. But whatever you shall see that does not differ from the well-supported authorities of the holy fathers, do not refuse to receive it — only first having well considered it, lest you do anything not weighed with counsel and afterwards repent; and receive it not only with thanksgiving to God but ask it with most humble supplication. And so may your ways be directed that you may ever progress, and not decline either to the right hand or to the left, but keep the straight path which leads to life. For many shall come in sheep’s clothing who inwardly are ravening wolves; by their fruits you shall know them. Hold fast therefore to what you have received, and grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

⁶ “Satisfied therefore with this little admonition of ours — and may God ever plant increase in your hearts — go now, O companions most dear to me in Christ also, God leading you through every way by which you shall go, and guarding you through every place where you shall begin to dwell, sealed with the banner of the cross on high and with our kiss of firm peace. O remember me when you shall begin to reign with Christ. But I, if I am taken up first, will not be unmindful of you — through the grant of our Lord Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns God through all ages of ages. Amen.”

Here ends the first book #

Here begins his conclusion, or the preface of the following book #

¹ The foregoing book, dearest brothers, I have woven together as well as I could from the deeds of the most blessed Winwaloe in his early years — from his birth, his education under the blessed master Budoc, his first signs and his virtues, up to his setting forth with eleven chosen brothers to seek the place which Christ should show him. Now in this second book I shall recount, God helping, what he did in maturity: his going out and his passage through the Domnonian regions, the place found for him, the crossing of the divided sea, his manner of life there, his battles with the ancient enemy, the signs and wonders which God worked through him, and at last his blessed departure from the body — that the faithful, hearing what great things God did for his servant, may be stirred up to imitate his faith and patience, to the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit for ever and ever. Amen.

Here begin the chapter-headings #

¹ Of his setting out, permitted with leave from the same elder with eleven brothers, and of the same man’s familiar admonition, as they made the journey, how they should conduct themselves so warily against the ancient foe’s snares.

² Of his excellent praise.

³ Of his passage through the Domnonian regions and of the finding of the place and of the roughness of its condition.

⁴ Likewise of the crossing of the divided sea in seeking another place, and of the valley found by surveying its midst.

⁵ Of the entrance to the place and of its situation.

⁶ Of the brothers’ excellent and most devoted service.

⁷ Of the asking for water.

⁸ Of the devil’s phantasmal machination against the man of God, and how he was overcome by him.

⁹ Likewise of the commemoration of how he lived from the twenty-first year of his age.

¹⁰ Of his hair garment.

¹¹ Of his food.

¹² Of the kind of his drink, and of his monastery’s most strict manner of life until the fifth year of the empire of the most pious emperor Louis.

¹³ Of the same emperor’s precept.

¹⁴ Of the same saint’s psalmody, and that he was held by many to be, for his exceeding virtue, not merely a man of flesh but an angel.

¹⁵ Of the humble and familiar address of Gradlon, king of the Cornubians, to him.

¹⁶ Of his most prudent answer given back to the king, and his most fair preaching.

¹⁷ Likewise of that king’s subjection.

¹⁸ Likewise of the king’s gift — a very small one for such great things brought in — at last accepted when Rioco, priest and holy monk, asked it.

¹⁹ Of the height of Cornubia and of its nobility.

²⁰ Likewise of its contrition and subjection.

²¹ Likewise of its future restoration.

²² Of the raising of the same St Rioco’s mother.

²³ Of the robbers’ raid and the miserable punishment that followed them.

²⁴ Likewise of the same saint’s mercy upon them and their wondrous conversion.

²⁵ Likewise of the explanation of that virtue.

²⁶ That no one could die in that place, and of the removal of the place at the elders’ petition, and of the angelic and allegorical address.

²⁷ Of the woman suddenly struck blind and healed by him.

²⁸ Of his death foretold by an angel, and the friendly address.

²⁹ Of his soul’s gentle reception, after the holy communion of Christ’s body, borne by holy angels into heaven.

Here begins the second book #

¹ On the day after that address Winwaloe went out with the eleven brothers given him, having received a blessing from the excellent father same, and much blessing having been mutually given in return — not knowing where he should turn, but trusting in God’s help and committing all things to his ordering and guidance; and he, blessed, went on a blessed journey — not that only which is seen to be trodden with bodily feet, but rather that which is passed with the spiritual steps of good deeds lifted on high. For although he had lived an excellent and almost anchorite life in the same place, yet he entered on a stricter way of living in that where his holy bones are now laid; into which way no one since, though rarely and even now, has dared to follow him — as will be shown, God willing, in what follows. But his disciples’ rule, which he taught them, was not his own life or conversation alone; for he transcended in the loftiness of his living the rule he gave and prescribed to his own. Yet if any man should ever attain to it, it must not at once be referred to the general pattern. For a universal rule is to be set forth not from the least part — that is, from the consideration of the few — but from those things which lie within the power of many, or rather, of all. But whatever things are attained most rarely and by the fewest, and exceed the possibility of the common virtue, being granted above the condition of human frailty and nature, are to be kept apart from the general precepts and put forward not so much as an example but as a miracle. For it is called a “rule” because it directs the manners, and because it makes more and less equal: for more destroys by deterring, less does not edify by wasting away. So, both being avoided, what is middling and temperate grows more and more, and at last rises well raised on high. But he, avoiding the higher and taking that middle course from the sayings of the holy fathers — whether of Basil or Penuphius or the rest of the catholics likewise — gives them that by which all who wished to live a holy life, though not without labour and indeed a great one, could in common, without any doubt and with God’s favour, accomplish it. But he himself, a most choice athlete elected to fight against the envious foe — like a tireless soldier, a captain of war who outstrips all his company and with a great cry urges the legions on to battle, while both armies of the enemy stand in battle-array already appearing close at hand, sounding their harsh trumpets on either side and about to attack, and soon one side or the other must turn in flight; then the hearts of the fearful tremble moment by moment, but the bold sharpen themselves with brandished spears — he, with no movement of his own resolve, thinking of nothing but overcoming the foe, not yet distributing his spoils though they are the best, either girds his own with exhortation or stands among them promising to give them many gifts: so that they may overcome, not be overcome, he follows, gathering and confirming them, and yet then most of all outstrips them by hurling himself of his own accord against the foe before their eyes, exhorting them all that they will do likewise in this matter. So St Winwaloe, not otherwise, on all days, hours and moments, by words or by examples, never ceased to forewarn the hearts of his disciples to be ready to fight most strongly and most watchfully against the ancient foe’s wiles — soft and hard and rough and slow alike — saying in this wise: “For while he grows soft as though caressing, then he strikes; while he promises good things, he supplies evils; while he suggests a long life, death is near deceiving the man; while he feeds the mind with suggestions as though of great profit, there is nothing to be hoped for; while he terrifies with phantasmal illusions, there is nothing that need be feared; while he seems strong as though daring, then he is weakest and can most easily be overcome; but while he departs as though appeased by flight, then he is the boldest rebel — and except by prayer and fasting, with frequent work of the hands and by the remembrance of eternal death and the mercy of God’s pity and by the whole intention turned to Christ, he can in no way be driven out. He is the vessel of all iniquity and perdition: when he is thought silent, he is soon seen to seize; he does not sleep, he does not rest, he seeks nothing on which to feed save the souls of lost men. Yet if you resist him, you will be able not only to gainsay him but, wholly turned to Christ, with his help, to cast him down utterly.”

² O most blessed Winwaloe, you can be more marvelled at than imitated — shining in speech as much as gleaming in works, most prudent in teaching, most watchful in keeping and showing what you teach. And yet you do not cease to prop up your doctrine with examples; you edify more by work than by word, though by both. You surpass your counsels in deeds, since it is not enough for you to do what you command in high things, but you mount almost beyond the strength of all men after the apostles. For who can be found so mild in instructing? Yet you edify all who cleave to you. Who so wary in all speech, yet most fervent in work? Who so merciful in all things — a most prudent steward, doing all according as the time or the matter demands? For some you rear with the refreshment of words, some you form by the example of good living, others you stir up — rebuking them because they sat lukewarm and sluggish — with a father’s affection, correcting their manners to the pursuit of good works: made all things to all men, as the apostle says, that you might gain all to Christ. For either by gently admonishing or begging or rebuking or sometimes, if need pressed, threatening punishments, you strove to reconcile all to Christ. Who could ever be found so sweet and gentle towards his own, exalting mercy above all judgement? Yet you reckoned nothing unadvised through negligence, lest either sloth or evil security and from that pride be born or nourished by too slack a mercy. Since you appeared more merciful and moderate to all, to yourself alone you were the more severe — kind to all like an honoured mother, heavy and bitter to your very self. No living man so tamed his flesh from infancy — daily dead because of the strictness of his life, daily alive because of his most firm hope in Christ, as it is written: “For your sake we are put to death all day long.” You lost the whole world, that you might deserve to receive it among the saints by the promise of Christ, the best minister, saying that “he shall be set over all his goods.” You also lost in this life — what is greater — your soul: that is, you afflicted it, not granting it its every desire. For although a man be holy, yet while he is set in this mortal body he is sometimes drawn to that which the sounder counsel of his heart does not will — the apostle saying: “I delight in the law of God, but I see another law in my members warring against the law of my mind,” and the rest. Therefore in this mortal and darksome life you lost it, that there, where light reigns and life abides, you might find it — as the Saviour ordered: “He that loves his life shall lose it; and he that loses his life for my sake in this world shall keep it to life eternal.” Not all the acts of your life therefore can be contained in pages, but they can be numbered with Christ, who gives to every man according to his works. For you rightly surpass all who now live even a mortal life: you live a life beyond almost the measure of all mortals; you shun the wide and spacious way that leads to perdition; you tread the narrow path that leads to life. Not that you compel all to do the things you do, however excellent — but you greatly persuade those whom virtue given by God might enable, if it were possible, so to act. For not all can do all things that you do; but both they who do the least and they who do the greatest see all things in you, most devoutly following you as their shepherd with their whole will, though they could not so work throughout — for God does not grant all his gifts to one, just as he makes none, as we said in the foregoing little book, altogether devoid of all. But he made you so excellent for this reason: that many might have you as it were for a spectacle to which they should ever look, who were to profit by your example near or far. And for this reason all things are not given to one, but very many to him whom God disposes to shine for others — lest, lifted up, he fall into pride. This is well declared through Ezekiel, where we read: “The winged living creatures struck their wings one against another” — because all the saints touch one another with their virtues and stir one another to progress by the consideration of another’s virtue. For not all things are given to one, as we said, lest lifted into pride he fall; but to this one is given what is not given to that, and to that is given what is denied to this — so that while this man considers the good which that man has and he has not, he prefers him to himself in thought; and while that man sees this one have what he has not, he sets himself behind in his own thought — and that is fulfilled which is written: “Estimating others better than themselves.” For to speak a few things out of many: to this man is granted the virtue of wondrous abstinence, yet he has not the word of knowledge; to that is given the word of knowledge, yet he strives to attain the virtue of perfect abstinence and cannot. To one is granted freedom of speech, so that bringing the solace of progress to the oppressed he may speak freely in defence of justice — yet still possessing much in this world he wills to relinquish all and cannot; to another it has already been given to leave all earthly things so that he desires nothing in this world — yet he still does not presume to exercise the authority of speech against sinners, and he who ought the more to speak freely, because he no longer has anything by which he may be held to this world, refuses to speak freely against others lest he lose the very quiet of his life. To this man is given the virtue of prophecy: he already foresees many things to come — yet seeing his neighbour’s present sickness and compassionate, he cannot cure it; to that is given the grace of healing: he drives out his neighbour’s present affliction by prayers — yet what shall shortly follow he himself knows not. Almighty God so dispenses his gifts in his elect that he gives to one what he denies to another, and bestows the greater on one, the lesser on the other — that while either this one sees that man have what he has not, or that one considers this man has received more than he reckons is given himself, each may admire God’s gifts in the other, and by this very admiration each be humbled before the other, and count the one he sees have what he has not set above himself by divine judgement. To whom then, most holy Winwaloe, can you be compared — full of all these distributions of gifts, wondrous in abstinence, bright in the knowledge of God’s word, strenuous in freedom of speech against earthly powers, a most firm despiser of all earthly things, foreknowing things to come though long after, endowed with the grace of healing — containing in yourself all these and many more which are separately distributed among the rest? To whom shall you be reckoned like, whose deeds neither tongue nor voice nor the faculty of human genius can comprise?

³ Here therefore — that we may return more speedily to our purpose, lest we seem to breed weariness by drawing out so long a discourse, and yet not so long as true — passing through the western regions of the Domnonians and so skirting the bounds of the Cornugillians, he at last lodged happily on the island which is called Theopepigia, with the companions same. A place, I say, most rough, stretched out to every wind, hedged about nearly everywhere by the sea and sharp rocks, worthy of no human habitation. There, when certain huts and a small oratory had been built and a garden planted to supply herbs, they dwelt three years. Yet when they had come to the place just described, each one straightway ministered of his own accord like bees to the hives. But because the place in no way suited them — not so much for its barrenness as for the savagery of the winds and storms — they were grieved at being delayed. And the man of God, moved by so many discomforts of the place, when his own complainingly begged him that God would relieve their hardships — all the hours of each synaxis having been duly fulfilled — was wont to pray God that one of them, whom God himself should will, might be taken from this momentary life to intercede for his brothers’ causes. This however was not heard in the same years, because God did not will that place to be consecrated by the burial even of one little body of St Winwaloe’s disciples — but where their head should one day rest, there more fittingly should all his members be laid when taken up. Now there was a certain hill in the midst of the island, on which he was wont to sit and dictate with his eleven disciples. From there can be seen a fair wood set upon a little mount, and a valley placed in the midst, visible towards the sun’s rising. But a great sea, to which a huge river is joined, named the Amnis, lay between, about the space of nearly two miles. And from the valley’s deepest bed a mist like smoke rose daily towards the sun’s rising, stretching up on high, and the place viewed from there seemed most pleasant to those who saw it each day. To this place therefore they begged to be led. But he stayed so long — lest he be blamed for the fault of wandering — until it was breathed into him from on high, remaining steadfast in the same place; yet daily he begged God that a place of repentance be given them for their asking. Now whatever virtues he performed there, we have not found in the memorials of the venerable fathers of worthy memory. But what we confidently and blamelessly endure, whether by report or by copies, we shall take care to make known beyond doubt.

⁴ One day therefore, when after their custom they had come together in one upon the same hill at the end of the third hour, and saw afar the place beyond the sea where now his holy body rests with the innumerable bodies of his holy companions, and had a desire to go there — prayer having first been made — he said to the brothers: “Is there still in you so great and so strong a love that you would hasten to that place which you see far off?” And they, astonished in confusion, answered: “Lord, we know that you are a man of God; as your will is, so shall ours be. For we shall follow not our own will but yours.” But he said most gently: “No — God’s, not mine, is to be followed.” They answered: “Your will differs not far from God’s, for you ever do the things that please him.” And he said: “Momentary and brief is the life of man upon the earth. He who shall have fully trodden it down shall enjoy unfailing life.” They said: “Lord, show us the way by which we may go to it.” And he said: “I have shown it, and will show it again. But now, if you so greatly wish to cleave the deep and go to see that place — whose very wood, as though inviting you, if the eyes of your heart are open, bows itself in suppliant adoration towards your sight — cast yourselves thrice on the earth with bended knees and humbly pray Christ the Lord that he deign to be our leader and companion, and show you today a well-known sign.” When he had said this: “Let each one of the brothers,” he said, “hold the hand of him that goes before.” And when he had spoken, holding the right hand of the foremost who held the next, the rest doing likewise in the same order, he struck the mouth of the deep sea with the point of his staff. And when he had so touched its mouth, singing a hymn after the Mosaic passage of the Red Sea with the eleven, trusting in God’s leading, he entered the sea divided into a way like a path of dry dusty gravel, walled on either side by the sea held back — the waters hanging like a fugitive in fear from the river’s upper part, and drawn back from the lower — and so they passed through the deep sea’s bound on dry foot through the dry, disturbed by no fear.

Of the hymn after the crossing of the divided sea #

¹ And when they walked upon the dry sandy shore after the crossing of the divided sea, they sang this hymn to God, saying:

Here now is the hymn #

¹ Let us sing with sounding mouth songs to Christ on high,
Who makes the great sea open wide for us.
O best, who shall be able to render you worthy praises,
Who give rewards to unworthy servants?
All you works of the Lord, now bless the Lord;
Sing you his praises continually from on high.
And let the angelic choir, instant at heaven’s nods,
Sound forth excellent thanks to the Most High.
Blessed water that swim the high peaks of heaven,
Cease not to proclaim God’s clasping might.
Let the sun too with the moon and the bright stars together
Render worthy rewards for their excellent deeds.
Rain and dew and hoar-frosts and snows and hardening ice,
Night and day, render you worthy things to my God.
Light, darkness, lightning, clouds, earth likewise, mountains,
Hills, all things, you seeds, sing to God.
Springs, sea, rivers, whale, watery fish,
Every bird of heaven, beast with cattle,
Children of men, Israel and every priest of the Lord,
And they that are subject to him, bow your hearts to God.
And let vital breath and souls that flourish in holy names
Hold fast a strong hope: you humble saints,
Mishael and Azariah, Hananiah, with uplifted hearts
Cry aloud to God. And let the earth with prayers
Rise up from the lowest deep, pouring forth sweet
Words to God from its vow. Let us praise the Father
With the Son in equal love, contributing our faith
With the Holy Spirit. Through all the excellent ages
Blessed with praise, O Highest, mighty,
You are magnified with ample power.

² And when the hymn was said, entering the very great forest set upon the edge of the shore and surveying the valley which had before appeared to them from afar, they found in its midst a certain bed shaped like a sling, cut as it were between mountains bending round on either side and by wooded heights — a place most quiet, hedged in on one side by woods, thickets, sharpest rocks and towering banks, and bounded on the other by the sea and the river. For — that I may describe its form for those far away — it is girded on the whole eastern, southern and northern side by the deep sea, like a bow when it is most bent, its twin horns turned back within; where they found the place winding between mountains — that is, from the southern and the northern quarter — equally curved forward, and from the west carried across by mountainous ridges from sea to sea like strings stretched between the two horns of a bow, sinking down gradually towards the east through the mountain’s slope; on which side only — that is, the western — is the entrance to that place, and yet not an easy one, winding and turning southward around the seaward northern side of the sloping mountain and going on to the eastern gate of the now holy monastery. For its face ever looks towards the east, and it is shut in by but a single gate; for it is girded behind by a ditch and by mountains with a rocky wood, and walled in front on either side of the gate — from which two horns stretching out as it were in length, this same place, most quiet and most pleasant and untouched by almost every wind except a little from the east, like a paradise splendidly visible towards the sun’s rising, puts forth first flowers and buds each year and last loses its leaves — a place, I say, prepared by God for his servants, a garden decked with flowers of every colour, in which not only earthly but rather heavenly fruits are gained. And it has also this privilege from that day even until now: that never has the entrance of a woman profaned that place with all its enclosures round about, as though by a law ordained from St Winwaloe’s mouth. There therefore they chose to sit secure in that most secure place, glorifying God in all things.

³ But then, just as bees most eagerly gather into one with their king into a hive much pleasing to them — for part is scattered through the fields plucking little flowers, part returns to the camp with gathered provisions; one prudently administers the most tenacious glue, another builds little cells quite quiet; one stores up most liquid honey, another turns flowers into wax; one fashions the young with its mouth, another shuts up the nectar gathered from the leaves; one rules, one guards the sceptre; one reigns, one is moved; one sits, one stands ever ready for war if need be — but the king sits safe in the midst disposing all things, to be troubled by no business unless the whole swarm has first been disturbed, for straightway they hurl themselves even to death to avenge the king’s cause, counting all their life’s convenience to consist in the king’s preservation: he being taken away, all reckon themselves taken away and scattered and brought to an end; he being kept, all are kept. Yet it is lawful for none to pass the palace doors from evening to morning, except the keepers of the court, unless a grave cause shall press; and if any disturbance shall have arisen, not only the doorkeepers but all — except the king with his attendants — as soon as they hear the sound of the sounding trumpet, go forth from the camp ready to fight. They neither give nor love a false peace; when peace, let it be peace; when war, let it be war. — So, not unequally, when they had reached the same place, all with one accord set to work upon it.

⁴ And when on a certain day the disciples, wearied by the distance of the water — not only because the way was so long but also because it was so far beyond the cloisters of the monastery — began to beg him to give them water, he prudently appointed that they should go to the tasks enjoined. And when they obeyed his bidding, he was left alone in the cloister. What then did he do? For when all had departed from him, standing in prayer with outstretched hands he begged God, saying: “Lord Jesus Christ, who commanded the dry rock plenteously bring forth water for your people thirsting in the wilderness — of which water whoever drinks, there shall be in him a fountain of water springing up to life eternal, and out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water — who are yourself the fountain of life, deign, I beg, to open and give also to this least flock of monks a fountain of water, from which they may quench their thirst.” When he had thus spoken, he made as it were a circle in the manner of a fountain with the point of his staff, and at once most abundant waters came forth and an open spring, most clear, appeared, and at once passing the bound of its rim it poured itself out, running towards the sun’s rising and making for the shore. Now the brothers were not there while he did this. Yet afterwards, returning from the tasks enjoined and seeing this very great miracle also, they rejoiced much, and praised the Lord even in this as in all his virtues — since ancient miracles are seen to be renewed, when he who passes over and ministers plenteously into the water renews, as it were, the rod of Aaron when the sea is touched with the staff and the earth is cleft for the seeking of water. And a Joshua and a Phinehas are seen in them fulfilling all the commands of Moses, since these men did not in a single thing gainsay the words of their master — except that by a certain great privilege of virginity these men shine the more than those then were.

⁵ Meanwhile, amid these so great and wondrous marvels, on a certain night while he prayed alone in the oratory, there appeared to him a certain huge, most foul and horrible monster, fashioned by the enemy’s machination. For it was a most deformed thing like an image made of iron and soot, woven with sooty feathers, swiftest of foot and extended with swiftest wings; having sometimes a hundred flaming eyes, then none, then one fixed in the middle of its forehead, revolving in the manner of a great shield — wondrous to tell — fashioning a hundred tongues and as many mouths and ears; now raising itself even to the clouds, now hanging downward and descending with the dust. And this was the composition of this image of which it consisted: there was in it a head fashioned as it were human with the other members, most like to the blackness of the Moors, from whose mouth and nostrils fire and brimstone came forth. Its eyes were flaming, yet all its members were hairy like a goat’s, and all its hairs were also iron-hard. Beneath the head was a neck most long and thin, in the manner of a flute. And its breast and arms were lean as though wasted with corruption. The feathers of its wings too were eyed round about, dripping with decay; its feet drawn out like spear-shafts, yet most slender and knotty. And every joint of the members by which they were joined was exceeding knotty. This then was the first well-known sign of this apparition. Then the foul thing, advancing against the man of God, began to vaunt with proud mouth all its strength and ancient victories over men — how it had cast down the first parents from paradise, how it had brought the world under its power through every age. But the saint, not at all moved, rebuked it thus: “Why do you boast these so vain vauntings against the soldiers of Christ? Or is it hidden from you that the eternal torments of everlasting fire await you with your companions? For though you now suffer certain grievous things already, yet you will suffer greater when Christ shall appear, our life and lawgiver. But we, crowned, shall walk rejoicing in the sight of the Lord, when you, most vile and to be destroyed, cast out and dragged away weakened with all your members, will be sent condemned into the depth of hell. Remember the sentence, since you will perish with disgrace, conquered and to be trodden under the feet of all whom you had striven to turn aside — uttered from the mouth of the prophet rebuking and threatening your pride and malice, saying thus: ‘Your pride is brought down to hell; your carcase is fallen; the moth shall be strewed under you and worms shall be your covering. How are you fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, who rose in the morning? You are fallen to the earth who wounded the nations, who said in your heart: I will ascend into heaven, above the stars of God I will exalt my throne; I will sit in the mount of the testament, in the sides of the north; I will ascend above the height of the clouds, I will be like the Most High — yet you will be brought down to hell, into the depth of the pit.’ And a little after: ‘All the kings of the nations have slept in glory, every man in his own house; but you are cast out of your grave like an unprofitable branch, defiled and wrapped about. You will have no fellowship with them that were slain by the sword and went down to the bottom of the pit, as a rotting carcase, nor with them in burial. For you have destroyed your land, you have slain your people; the seed of the wicked shall not be called for ever.’ Are you not he himself who now wear so sordid and detestable a form — to be shunned rather than followed by all the good, so far as I can see? You once read that you had the primacy among the angels, you who are written to be the beginning of God’s ways — and so, in comparison with the angels you are called an archangel. Yet from that confidence you fell, to slide without repair — whose excellence of preeminence the prophet announces in these words: ‘The cedars in the paradise of God were not higher than he, the firs did not equal his height, no tree of paradise was like him, for God made him more beautiful.’ Were you not also — God bearing witness by Ezekiel — the seal of likeness, full of wisdom, perfect in beauty, in the delights of God’s paradise? Yet as soon as you were made, into pride you burst forth and were cast down from heaven. For by the witness of the truth you were a liar from the beginning and stood not in the truth — because straightway, as soon as you were made, you fell. You were created indeed in truth, but by not standing you at once slipped from the truth, when through the swelling of pride you had thought yourself to be compared with God. But not content with this alone — that thinking yourself equal to God you fell blinded — moreover you even call yourself superior: the apostle bearing witness, who says of antichrist: ‘Who opposes and is exalted above all that is called God or that is worshipped.’” As soon as he heard these things from the mouth of the most holy man, the most filthy devil departed, leaving behind a most heavy stench. Now brother Tethgonus, whose cell was nearest the oratory, hearing at first so great a contention between the saint and the devil, arose to learn more fully the issue of the matter; and then he saw so great visions of this malignant one and learned such answers of the saint in rebuking that worst one, and afterwards revealed them to his brothers. And they, hearing these things, were more and more kindled to every good work and made more wary, and were much edified — through the grant of our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.

⁶ As we are about to speak of his wondrous conversation in that same holy place, it has seemed good to us to repeat how he lived in his earlier age — and yet to have deferred it to this point, so that, if we can, we may fully show whether the beginnings of his life answer to its end. From the twenty-first year of his age therefore until his death he was never seen sitting in church, never cast down by sadness nor unbent by gladness, never mocking another, never known to exceed the bound of moderation — nor yet wrathful or turbulent. For since from his infancy he had shown most devoted service to St Budoc, by whose word and example he was instructed and made a most religious youth, he transcended all grace in the clergy while still placed at such an age. For he usurped nothing of arrogance or pride from his manners; but affable and kindly in all things, set on earth he showed himself fit for heavenly manners. For he was angelic in aspect, shining in speech, holy in work, whole in body, excellent in wit, great in counsel, catholic in faith, most patient in hope, abounding in charity, intent on prayer. For he was wont to chant fifty psalms three times daily, separately — now in the manner of the cross, now fixed in motionless stature, now prostrate on bended knees. So much briefly of his earlier conversation. But since neither letter can suffice for the narration of all his works nor —

⁷ From that day therefore on which he began to build his place, he was never clothed in a woollen or linen garment, but was clad in certain goats’ skins; nor did he lie in a bed strewn with feathers or cloths or even straw, but when he was sometimes broken off from sleep for the briefest space, he was wont to use the hardest nutshells for feathers; and for foreign painted tapestries he delighted in sand mingled with pebbles; and for head-pillows of silk or fine linen interwoven, he had his head and feet raised on only two stones set beneath on either side. What more? With what garment he was clad by day, with the same he was also clad by night.

⁸ Now that these things have been shown of his garment, let us see also of his food. He ate no wheat bread save only that from which the sacrifice is wont to be made, but fed on a little barley bread mingled with ashes, weighed out in equal measure — except that in Lent he abstained for two or three days at a time, not eating daily, and then took the more of ashes, mindful of the Scripture saying: “For I did eat ashes like bread.” Although this could be transferred in another sense to the sinner now repenting of his sins — on account of the bitterness of repentance, whose past life, the sweeter it had been to him in sinning, the more bitter it stood in repenting, and therefore perhaps the bitterness of repentance could be compared to ashes — yet he willed it to be understood literally for the affliction of his flesh and for the greater hope of reward from God in return. And his pottage was this: a dish made of the same meal or of herbs, but enriched with no fat — even on the sabbath; and on the Lord’s day a little cheese boiled in water, and on the same day a few little fishes also, for the sake of venerating the holy resurrection. But he never touched the flesh of any quadruped or even of a bird by eating, nor took fat from them for any use — save only what could be made of milk, and that only on the same days.

⁹ He also took his cup with bitterness, according to the same prophet who says: “And I mingled my drink with weeping.” For when anyone is perfectly pricked with compunction by the remembrance of his sin, that unrighteous thing which he did with delight he bewails with weeping — and this is to mingle the cup with weeping. But this man of refined taste — a most prudent searcher both according to the letter and the inward sense — took no liquor of the grape at all, nor of honey, nor even of milk or beer; but his drink was only such as could be made of water and the juices of trees or of wild or woodland fruits. With such a kind of drink therefore both he and his were content to be refreshed; wine they knew not at all, save only that which was wont to be consecrated in the most holy chalice of the Lord for the use of the sacrament, and likewise the other kinds of drink by which men are wont to be drunken they spat out like poison — and so such liquors could be heard of in St Winwaloe’s monastery, but never seen or tasted. And such craft was given to each of them that by the daily work of his hands, like the Egyptian monks, he might contain himself in daily sustenance: for they ran not only in the path of monks but of hermits. And this law or rule shone for a long time in that monastery — that is, from the time when Gradlon, whom they called the Great, held the sceptre of Britain, until the fifth year of the empire of the most pious augustus Louis, and the eight hundred and eighteenth year of our Lord’s incarnation. But when it was already seen to be refused by certain weaker brethren, on account of the difficulty — since not even with such great difficulties was sufficient clothing provided them, so that they were content with only a single tunic with a sheepskin cloak and foot-covering alike by day and night, and a small cloak added if the need to travel pressed — it came to pass that the same most serene emperor same, while he had pitched his camp in that same province of Britain upon the river Elegius near the forest called Brisiacus, sent with his own hand this command, speaking in this wise:

¹⁰ “In the name of the Lord God and of our Saviour Jesus Christ: Louis, by divine ordaining providence emperor augustus, to all the bishops and the whole ecclesiastical order established in Britain. Be it known to you that when Matmonoc, abbot of the monastery of Landévennec, had come into our presence, and we had asked him both of the conversation of the monks in the monasteries of those parts and of the tonsure, and he had fully disclosed to us how these things stood — we, learning that they had received these things from the Scots, both as to conversation and as to the tonsure of the head, while the order of the whole holy apostolic and Roman Church is known to be otherwise, have been pleased that they should agree, both in life and in tonsure, with the universal Church committed to us by God’s dispensation. And therefore we have commanded that they both live according to the rule of the holy father Benedict, which is possible and worthy of praise, and agree in the tonsure of the head, according to the measured manner, in unity with the holy Roman Church which is spread through the whole world; and that they hold the same manner of living in this same monastery and in its other subject monasteries which could most fully carry out our command — according to what is written in the rule of the holy and excellent father Benedict.” These precepts of the most pious emperor Louis, confirmed from his own hand.

¹¹ The seal of the most serene — the monogram — of the emperor Louis.

¹² In the same year the rule of father Benedict was begun in the same monastery written above.

¹³ And this also is said to have been most frequently the work of the same saint: while the crowd of the others was divided in every labour, he alone was continually occupied in devotion to prayer — either with fasting wondrously drawn out or in psalmody, now with feet fixed, now with knees bent, now with hands outstretched. And at the end of every psalter he made a hundred genuflections each day and as many each night — a despiser of the world, a lover of heaven; he was discerned no longer as a man of flesh but as angelic. He desired ever to see God not with bodily but with spiritual eyes, and according to the apostle longed to be dissolved and to be with Christ — and yet he did not refuse to bear the weight of the flock, and committed his hope in every affair to Christ. His mouth was never seen idle of spiritual things or empty: therefore many were brought to him — the blind, the deaf and the lepers, the lame, the paralytic and the possessed, and every kind of sickness and weakness — but none returned from him disappointed of their hope, all healed. And now his name with its merits was celebrated far and wide through every region of Britain; all strove to see his face, shining as it were like an angel’s — and he was no longer called a monk, but an angel conversing among men.

Now these seven chapters which follow are composed in heroic metre #

Of the humble and familiar address of Gradlon, king of the Cornubians, to him. #

¹ Meanwhile to king Gradlon the fame kept flying,
Of him who had held the highest summit of the sceptre,
The ruler of the Cornubians in the western part,
Whose realm beneath him stretched so wide a bound,
His temples wreathed with the Norman mitre of treasures,
Shining above all and mightier than them all,
After the wars of the prostrate barbarous foe,
When now five dukes’ heads had been lopped at the neck,
He glories a victor with as many hundreds in arms.
The river Liger itself is witness, on whose white
Banks so great battles had then been fiercely fought.
So then, desirous and drawn by love of seeing
The saint, he goes, and trembling bows down to adore,
Saying such words: “What gifts can please you?
For I have abundance of things and great power,
Wide stretches of lands with treasures of gold and silver,
And most ample comforts with countless gifts of raiment.
And those delivered to you shall remain untouched,
Nor can they be changed by any traffic, fixed
As gifts set in heaven for evermore.”

Of his most prudent answer given back to the king. #

¹ The saint, his holy body raised by the right hand,
With cheerful countenance utters from his mouth:
“Did you then wish, O king, to deceive me with your gifts?
For to what end, if I should gather vanities so great,
Should I have sought these winding hollows of an empty
Valley, these caverns of the desert? Better far
Had it been to remain on my fathers’ fields
Than to seek a slender livelihood in realms
Cleft by the crooked mattock with bent back.
A lavish giver of fleeting wealth — if you can be turned,
I ask — who sets his care on them can beyond doubt
Be robbed of the eternal: for let him who strives
To fly above the stars try to drive off these biting treasures.
But I thirst to be filled at all hours with the bright
Banquets of the holy citizens of heaven.
You see how I am clad in goats’ rough skins
And use cheap and scanty food, content.
But you, poor wretch, fervent for another’s gold,
Glitter in your Syrian purples and your gems,
And your bowels are filled with magnificent feasts;
Your wanton flesh swells apt for foul worms with fatness,
And flutes and harps and lyres with murmuring quills
Applaud through your halls with shrill strains.
Tell me, where are the kings once swelling from their high
Citadel, once lacking nothing and mighty in things — say,
Where are they now? Say where he is who shone
Decked in ample pomp, hedged with countless troops.
Does not the earth that bore them press alike,
With cruel clinging tooth, all things so vile yet strong?
Cease to follow vain things that cannot endow you;
These things which make you bounteous, do them ever.
If you draw from the wicked, blessed deeds will follow.
All things that shine beneath the sun’s light,
Like thin shadow with swift end recede.
But I, who hope to be wreathed with fair crowns,
See — I am richer than you are now thought to be.
For Christ is with me, the highest power instead of the world,
In whom the world is, nor is he shut in by it.
Small things you hold, though the sceptre’s broadest
Realm, if you scorn to seek Christ’s blessed kingdom.
Take heed in time, happy one, I beg, lest while you can
Mount up, you count neglected what shall one day bless you.
For though you glitter with bright gold and gems,
If no poor brother’s need shall bend you,
Yet when life slips away through empty space
A poor and beggared wretch you’lt hasten to the shades.
To many have riches, not well handled, done harm;
Many for wealth have entered into many perils.
If you ever abound in heaping up riches,
You feed yourself the foul hiding-places of hell.
But if again, learned to pass through to heaven’s halls
You dispose, the blessed realms will open bright to you.”

Likewise of that king’s subjection. #

¹ He then, with gentle mouth, thus trembling begins:
“O you beloved of Christ God, through all things I shall
Be ready, bidden, to serve these your commands to the Thunderer.”
And thus the servant of God, made mildest by the warning,
Held from then on the summit of his throne with righteous rule,
Until, despising the slippery things of the wave-tossed world,
He passed to the ethereal sceptre with a great reward.

Likewise of the king’s gift — a very small one for such great things brought in — at last accepted when Rioco, priest and holy monk, asked it #

¹ This man was a saint of great virtue, Rioco,
Carried of his own accord into his kind services,
A priest excellent and famous with a monk’s name.
But when he saw all gifts refused, he said:
“O my beloved and holy master, this I beg:
Only accept the lands possessed by my father.”
Conquered by these prayers for the great gift,
He accepted what at first he had bidden be refused —
Unwilling. This land, Gradlon granting it, he took
Rejoicing — splendid, who himself shone forth a lamp
To the whole country — through the Lord Christ,
Who governs all the ages.

Of the height and nobility of Cornubia #

¹ How well its heights once shone with three candles,
When three nobles of Cornubia held the lofty lands
And Gradlon ruled the laws of even the lowest fields,
When learned Courentine offered the bright draught
Of earthly things to the thirsting people — in the fostering
Order, resplendent through the sacred body of Christ,
He who deserved to be called the highest watchman
From his deeds, who bore the narrow life of the hermitage
With the highest contemplation — unless moved by a church’s
Gain; the abortive strifes that arose he quickly scattered
From it, intent, and the church sat established in countless
Peace. He then, departing, did the same things as before.
And lord Winwaloe, famous in countless deeds,
Shone before all the hermits, a well-made abbot,
Renowned in the lofty name of virtues.
Yet before the same he had already mounted
The consecrated place — how great the rule which both
Were said to hold — and already the saint Tutwal,
Excellent, famous by that name, had preceded
The three in order, a monk to be held the exemplar
Of many by his merits: in whose bosom whenever
He took fire with his garments, the flame touched it not,
But it is moistened with gentle dew.
But since he then chanced to lead his life with the heavenly
Ones, the country is strengthened, propped on three columns.
Yet a fourth, living — who lives with Christ —
Is thought no less, since he lives beyond the body.
And so the land of Cornubia then towers aloft
On four stays, full also of abundance of things.
Like a bride adorned, decked with fair beauty,
She goes forth from the chamber, the proud bridegroom coming.

Likewise of its subjection #

¹ But now she lies pressed down, bereft of her mighty
Heroes, groaning conquered, bent beneath a foreign yoke,
Stripped of triumphs, bare of shining arms.
The merry feasts that were, the unbridled pomp
Has been her pride; what the prophet, foreknowing
Things to come, threatened perhaps against erect
Nineveh has been done and fulfilled in her — where
He upbraided the houses of lions and the merry
Pastures of the cubs of fell lions.
Or were her mighty ones then lions in manner,
Who violently seized the wide portions of the world?
Of prey so savage as of blood and gore
Ever greedy, the merry pastures of lions here
Have often brought forth their young, since all the beauty
Of her adorned youth, when it wished to be held strong
Or likewise learned, ran on; but now none
Desires the prey, save that she is buried as in death —
And no violent strong man now remains in the struggle
To tear the prey, but she is led back crushed.
To such great evils shall I say your rich heights
Are given over — there to be the jaws of fell lions
And the merry pastures of the lions’ whelps.
Surely that has come to you which stood fit for Judaea,
The prophet saying through the fostering breath for ever:
“Make you a baldness broad as the eagle’s.”
For a man’s baldness is wont to be on the top
Of the head alone, kept open through the whole body;
But an eagle’s, since the old feathers slip from all
Its members when it grows exceeding old. Such baldness
Therefore, as the eagle’s — since it widely lost its broad
Feathers — widens the fierce people it had lost.
For the feathers of the great eagles have fallen,
With which she was wont to fly aloft of plunder.
For every warlike man and one accounted a leader
Of war has yielded, slain — by whom she conquered
In battles and, a high victress, sat amid foreign
Deaths, dividing the prey of the fallen and the enemy’s part.

² This is Cornubia, the great mother of great
Parents, excellent in the praise of mighty virtues
Both of earthly warriors and of dwellers in heaven —
Who, though she now lies oppressed beneath arms,
Shall soon begin, shining with strongly grown offspring,
To rise again, if she do the things ordained right.
Otherwise, long oppressed and crushed, she shall lie.

³ These things being thus composed, it was announced to a certain disciple of his that his mother was sick; and he begged to be sent to visit her. But the words of the Master stood in the way, who said that the dead should be left to bury their dead. And when he seemed, much troubled by his mother’s sickness, to relax himself somewhat in prayer, at last he received leave to go. But the saint knew she was already dead, divine providence showing it. So he, hastening, content with one boy as companion, took blessed water from the master and went on his journey. And when he had come to the place where she lay dead, he cast out all who were making a tumult around her, rebuking them and saying: “Withdraw — why do you act foolishly? You accomplish nothing.” For he thought her soul was still held within her members. And sprinkling the already cold corpse with sanctified water, he said: “May the Lord Jesus Christ, in whose name my master has already worked many wonders, himself deign to heal you.” But those who stood without mocked him, for they knew she had been dead before he came. Yet she, as though wakened from sleep, quickly rose and, sitting on her bed, wiped her sweat like one returning from no light labour. And they who had mocked him fell prostrate to the earth before his feet, glorifying God and saying: “Truly this man is near to God — through whose invocation his disciple could work so great a sign, though he himself was absent.” She then, being asked to what places or by whom she had seen herself led, spoke thus: “I saw about me, before I lost my last breath, certain little men, most black, in the manner of cold coals, ready to devour me — and when they had devoured me, promising to bind me again in chains amid many torments. And the event at once followed thus. For as soon as I had slipped from the body and been seized — not gently — foul troops who surrounded me and bound my feet with my hands dragged me through rough places to others much rougher, as they said. But when they exultingly would have dragged me, wretched, through monstrous torments, St Winwaloe met them, crying terribly and saying: ‘Yield her to me — why do you dare so boldly to work this crime on my handmaid?’ And they, dismayed and astonished, wishing to resist yet not daring for fear of the divine command, at last left me to this man of God; and he willed me, freed from the enemies, to be restored to this little body — God being gracious.” And from that time they called Winwaloe not a monk but an angel; and she, restored, changed her whole manner of life, bearing fruit in every good work.

⁴ Now it was the custom of blessed Winwaloe to visit the church which stood a mile from his monastery, and there to offer sacrifices both for the living and for the dead. Into this custom he joined with himself Ethbin, an excellent youth, a great deacon — that a worthy priest might be sustained by a just deacon. It happened one day, as they were fulfilling their custom and making their way through the fields in harvest time, that they found a certain leper lying in the corn, weeping grievously, his whole body full of sores, crying out in a tearful voice and begging help of them. Then blessed Winwaloe said to Ethbin the deacon: “Dearest brother, what shall we give to this poor man who asks help of us? We have no gold, we store no silver, naked of the money of this world. What shall we do for this needy man?” St Ethbin, filled with the grace of the Holy Spirit, said: “We read, father, in the Acts of the Apostles that when blessed Peter the apostle was entering the temple with St John, a lame man begged alms of them and received from them the health of his steps for the journey. But do you draw near to the poor man and obtain for him the gift of heavenly grace.” Then blessed Winwaloe, standing beside him, said: “What are the sicknesses in you, brother, for which you utter such heavy sighs?” The leper, hearing these words and drawing deep sighs, said with great humility: “Great straits and heavy pains shake my body. Yet one pain besides is in me, which is so hurtful to my sickness that if I pass this day without help for this pain, I think death rather than life is next at hand.” To this the blessed man Winwaloe said: “Tell me, brother, by what help you can be relieved. God is my witness that we would give a share of our own flesh for your aid and relief if need should prove it.” And the poor man said: “My nostrils are full of the pain of sores, burned by the heat of so great a sickness, as you see.” Then the saint laid the book he held in his hand upon the ground, and taking the poor man by the sides — for he lay prone on the earth — Christ’s priest raised him up. And when he stretched his hand to his nostrils, the poor man began to cry with tearful voice: “Do not, elder, do not touch my nostrils with your hands, for the pain does not permit it — but if, for the remission of your sins, you will relieve my pain, I must receive your nostrils in my mouth, and so heal me.” Then blessed Winwaloe humbled himself — and when he thought to lift the poor man, he received in his mouth the flesh of God. O wondrous thing, marvellous and stupendous to all who hear! As soon as blessed Winwaloe drew his breath to himself, a wondrous jewel fell into his mouth. And blessed Ethbin, holding the Lord by the sides, looked up and saw heaven opened, and on the head of the Lord whom he held a holy cross appeared, and he saw angels coming to meet the Lord; and the priest said: “Holy father, know that I whom you hold in your hands — and you in your mouth — am the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself to be crucified for us.” And wishing to hold him with their hands, the Lord Jesus Christ lifted himself in the clouds, saying: “You were not ashamed of me, my servants, in my straits; nor shall I be ashamed of you in my Father’s kingdom. Your inheritance is with me, and whoever of yours shall be mindful of me in their prayers shall have salvation in my kingdom.” Having said this he vanished from their eyes and was received into heaven with great praise. They heard praising indeed but saw no one. Astonished and exceeding glad with great joy, they praised the Lord, who had loved them so much that he showed them the flesh of the Son of God in the likeness of a poor man. Blessed Winwaloe said: “This has befallen us through your merits, brother Ethbin — you who are of such humility and obedience that whatever the human tongue can perceive, you fulfil with most devoted heart.” And blessed Ethbin said: “It is not so, father — but you, who daily offer the flesh and blood of Jesus Christ, deserved to see him in his own body, whom you continually hold in your mind.” Then turning aside to the monastery, they made it known to no one, but devoutly fulfilled their custom.

⁵ There was a certain man at that time named Catmaglus, who had three wicked sons — robbers of other men’s goods, who took by secret theft what they could not openly carry off. These men therefore, thinking that the money and treasures of that whole region were laid up with the same saint, took counsel and invaded the holy place’s enclosure in a ship by dark night; and when they had entered, they found the granary open and the barley set in the midst. And as they entered, there appeared to them a most shining light like the light of the sun. Much heartened by this, they said within themselves: “If what we do displeased God, so great a light would not have been given us, nor would the door of this house — which we found shut fast with strong bolts — have opened to us of itself. See what darkness we endured through the whole night until we came here — but now a most shining light ministers to us. Come then — if we find nothing else, let us at least fill our bags with this cleric’s barley; for it does not become us to return empty.” Now it was about midnight. While these things were being done, Winwaloe — not ignorant of the matter — was keeping the night in the church with his own; and when they had duly celebrated the night vigils, he gathered the brothers together and broke the silence thus: “See, brothers, whether all is well with the monastery’s goods.” And again imposing silence with his hand, he said: “Do not fear, do not be troubled. Certain men, thinking to find much money, have invaded your granary, and are now preparing to stuff their bags lest they return empty. But let them be — for God is able to convert their hearts also, that they may desire to steal a heavenly treasure no less than an earthly one. For if they did not need these things, perhaps they would never do so detestable a deed.” Saying no more, he ordered them all to pray. And as they went out of the monastery heavily laden, it was made known whether these things, as they had said, displeased God. For the first of them, striding proudly under his load, was at once cast prostrate to the earth; and his hip being broken and shattered, the wretch lay crushed beneath the burden. And the second following, his feet fixed to the earth, able to move neither one way nor the other, stood like a planted beam, patient though unwilling. And the third, not far from these, struck with thick blindness, wandering this way and that, strayed about the shore before the monastery gate. But the fourth also, who had stayed to watch the skiff, raging as though mad, vainly labouring at the oar with a great splashing, kept crying out: “Come, you gallows-birds, come, you plagues! Why do you delay, you faithless? There is nothing sound in thieves, nothing strong, nothing but folly. The treasures are great with which you are laden — you carry the loads, I shall divide them. What — do you think you shall take a larger share? Did you then provoke me to these shores for this, to mock me there? It is not right in men who deign not even to answer me a word.” But they held the deepest and bitterest silence, pressed by fear and pain.

⁶ When these things had so been done, after the first hour was celebrated, the man of God recounted to the brothers all that had befallen those men in that same night. And when they gave thanks to God — not only for the stricken men but also for God’s glory made manifest in his servant — St Winwaloe said: “Do not rejoice in the fall of your enemies, nor seek glory from one another, but that which is from God. For it is written: ‘He that glories, let him glory in the Lord.’ Moreover we ought willingly to fulfil the Lord’s command.” And they answered: “Lord, what command do you mean?” He then said: “Not one only, but all, so far as our strength can minister.” Then they said: “Happy is he who can gather even a few.” And he said: “It is true — but he who aims at the summit of perfection must, rising in order step by step from the least, strive towards the highest and greatest, not neglecting these also, so that if not all, at least a few he may be able to grasp. Since therefore I said we must fulfil the Lord’s command, it is time, brothers, as I think, to visit those held fast in need. For it is written: ‘I was sick and you visited me; in prison and you came to me.’ These men therefore, since they are very sick, must be visited for the commandment’s sake; and since they cannot move at all from the place where they stand, what are they but as men set in prison — yet to be loosed for mercy’s sake.” And the brothers said: “Are those who have been struck by divine vengeance really to be relieved by human aid?” And he said: “Did not God command that help be quickly given to a brother set in tribulation, saying: ‘Relieve the oppressed’; and elsewhere: ‘I will strike and I will heal, and there is no one who can rescue from my hand’? If therefore he smites and heals, if he shall so decree, they will at once be freed. But if he does not yield to prayers — since no one can deliver out of his hand — the sentence will remain unchanged. Yet this let us firmly hold: that God never forbids prayer when right things are asked, but commands it, saying: ‘Ask and it shall be given you.’” And they said: “Master, does it not then move you that you said God is not forbidden to be prayed to if right things are asked? For is it right to pray for wicked sinners condemned in their sin by God alone?” He answered: “So long as life accompanies the flesh, it is lawful to pray for every sinner. Yet when life ends with evils, the apostle says: ‘I do not say that one should pray for that.’ But it seems right to pray for these for this reason alone: because the Scripture says, ‘I will have mercy rather than sacrifice,’ and again: ‘Love your enemies and do good to them that hate you’; and elsewhere: ‘Pray for them that persecute and slander you’ — since even if those for whom prayer is made deserve to obtain no effect of the petition, yet you, willingly fulfilling the Lord’s command, will obtain the reward of your obedience and patience.” And they said: “Lead on then where you will and how you will; command whatever hard or difficult things — so long as they are in our power — by which we doubt not we shall come to that which we have long hoped for through patience. For you, as is right, we will follow wherever you go.” And he said: “Let us hasten then to the wretched men; for they are almost consumed with pain and anguish of heart.” So, first solemnly making prayer, they set out. And when St Winwaloe and the holy congregation with him appeared — before they drew near — how great, good Jesus, was the sorrow mixed with trembling that held the hearts of the wretched men standing in punishment! For they thought they would quickly be dragged to death or penal vengeance. Yet when they came to them, the saint — as though ignorant — enquired in the presence of his disciples the cause and order of this peril. And they, able to hide nothing, recounted why they had come and what had befallen them, just as he had before revealed to his disciples. From that time he was even called a prophet by the mouth of many — to whom, by God’s revealing, no secrets could be hidden. To whom the saint said: “How foolishly you have done! Would it not have been better to ask with cheerfulness for something from the brothers’ labour, and to receive by permission as much as could suffice, than to perpetrate unlawful fraud upon God’s servants — since it is said by the apostle: ‘Do no fraud among you, nor let anyone overreach his brother in any matter’? For indeed, when you wished to take our goods, was it not fitting that you should also lose your own? For in going around, you circumvented our enclosure — and what you could have asked and taken on occasion seemed sweeter to seize by theft, while the holy law forbids it, saying: ‘You will not steal, nor covet your neighbour’s goods.’ And yet this is not at all strange, for every sin, while it is done with desire, delights at the devil’s persuasion; but when it begins to be punished, it already turns bitter. This tribulation has come upon you because in despising you have scorned God’s commandment. But now also may he who bound you — Jesus Christ our Lord — free you from this blow.” And as he so prayed, they were at once loosed from every bodily blow. And he added, saying: “See that you do these things no more. Take hence your loads with you, and whenever need shall be, ask of us — and we will give without delay, God granting. And do not lose your souls for transitory and perishing things.” And they, wondrously converted and made at once lambs from wolves, said: “We can never be separated from you — but will ever obey your commands, you who could heal the flesh of a bodily wound; care also for the healing of our souls’ wounds.”

⁷ This is most marvellous: he who had limped with a disabled member also limped from the world, and the more unfit he had been in sinning, the more excellent he became, worthy to devote himself more freely to God alone in the best work. And he who was struck with blindness was blinded also to the world — since as long as he had dwelt in sins, apt and ready to see and desire the slippery things of the world, so long was he blinded — that is, separated — from the world’s lust, divinely enlightened, kindled with heavenly love, desiring to contemplate spiritual things. But he who remained fixed like a tree planted in the earth was fixed also to the world — since just as he had long stood in the world abiding in worst works, so, turned to the better, he deserved to stand against this world in the best conversation in Christ — through whom, as the apostle says, the world was crucified to him and he to the world: for whoever departs from the world — that is, from the works which please this world’s lovers — the world with its lovers must quickly leave, despise and hate him; and the more he resists it, the more it, mingling its poisonous arms — that is, first scattering the hidden seeds of detraction and blasphemy born of the tinder of envy, then vomiting them in the open like the worst swarm, resisting him by fighting — brings subsequent evils even to murder. Yet these things are overcome, by God’s grace, by the more perfect as though light; and through them those who are to ascend into heaven, proved like gold through the furnace’s fire, are made sublime. See, dearest brothers, what a bargain this is. For they came to steal and, because of their immense loads, are found damnable — and yet they are not only not given over to vengeance but even their losses are restored, and what had been unlawfully seized is lawfully given. Yet not without some reproof — lest, if let go unreproved, they should afterwards run into so great an evil, secure and careless: for it is not the wont of a pious and skilled father to dismiss any son unreproved when he has offended, lest he do worse — nor yet to destroy him utterly, though he has offended, lest he perish in utter despair. Nor is it the pious shepherd’s part to leave his flock too long unshorn — as neither is it his to shear it all the time — but at the fitting season, lest it perish consumed by cold. For when they came as thieves, they were to be called goats because of the worst stench of their crimes; but when now they beg not only the healing of their bodies but of their souls’ wounds, they were to be called doves — for the fervour of their new conversion and for their conversation in Christ so simple after conversion. For the naturalists write that doves have the most fervent desire in embraces; so also he who is converted to Christ should convert his whole desire in love of him by embracing. And that they have simplicity — who does not know, who reads the Gospel? — which it is fitting for every convert also to hold, that is, the rightness of his manners, lest he decline either to the right hand or to the left. As one of the poets said:

⁸ “Let not glad things lift up the mind, nor sad things break it.”

⁹ For by the right hand prosperity is meant, by the left adversity. And they are lambs for their innocence, sheep also for their meekness. And these promises in the holy monastery, made by the true physician, they were not at all repelled from, but summoned with great desire, and kept them devoutly so long — through the many courses of this life unrolled — until they deserved to mount to everlasting life.

¹⁰ But lest this ever be given over to oblivion — that no one could die in that same place unless burdened by old age; for death was in no way permitted to enter there, though old age could not be forbidden when age succeeded — I am pleased to insert it in this place. For although that place is not far from the one in which his bones now rest with his companions, and they are almost the same — but distinguished as though by the space of a stone’s throw and now enclosed within one wall — yet it had to be changed. And so the aged brothers, weighed down with long age, desiring to be loosed from this heavy body and demanding the rewards of their labours, and already not knowing what to do because of their growing and decrepit age, compelled him to transfer the buildings of this place a little way and carry its furniture with them towards the sun’s rising, and there to be fixed nearer the shore. And that place, God working, was made nobler than the other already named; for it is watered by the draught of a stream flowing down from a higher spring, and gemmed by the bubbling of a most shining fountain newly burst forth from the depths of the earth — most pleasant, persuading the weary with a most sweet murmur of running waters to a soft sleep after labour, shown moist with moderate dryness and dry with wetness, and well, as it is said, composed; in the other place indeed they thought they would ever live and not die. And many times it has been heard from the report of most holy men that they heard it from their predecessors, and saw those who most truly saw and said that so great a space of heaven was opened above that place in the sky as it occupied of earth; and that they enjoyed there the vision of angels ascending and descending, shown by St Winwaloe — in the likeness of the patriarch Jacob’s vision; and for this reason they thought they could not be loosed from the body there, where they had seen with uplifted mind a stable and indissoluble life. And this place also was not made without this gift: for many here, either in his time or even after the most holy man’s departure from the body, saw or heard angelic hosts sweetly singing; and even now they are not lacking who have seen and heard many prodigies and wonders in this place, worked by angelic power and by the saints together — some soothing sight and hearing, and some indeed dreadful beyond human daring. So, not much time flowing by and the place newly set in order, when on a certain night after compline he was spending the night alone in the oratory, persisting in most intent prayer before the altar, he saw the angel of the Lord standing by him, most shining, whose brightness shone like the sun — from whose splendour and odour the whole world might be illumined as though by a sun and perfumed as though by a wondrous and most excellent ointment — openly showing how fair and precious was that region from which he came and to which he would lead those he invited; and appearing thus with a most glad and gentle countenance, he heard him saying in a clear voice: “St Winwaloe, most beloved of Christ, do you watch?” And he, as a friend to a friend, with a most humble answer made to the well-known voice uttered to him: “I hear, Lord.” The angel said to this: “The time is at hand for gathering the ripe harvest and the good crop which you have sown. But a few grains, and yet the ripest, will be taken now as the firstfruits of the good new seed. For they are already beginning to turn golden, and some are found ready to be gathered after many cold blasts of the north winds and the heat of hard summer, purged and after so great a labour of threshing. The north wind harms the seeds much, but the husbandman must never have security about his crops until the reaper has gathered them into one floor, separated from the tares and purged of the winds’ burning. But then, when the harshest winter has suddenly fallen on the improvident, when no one can work — while they cannot work, held by frost and cold, and are consumed by want of bread — then shall he feast splendidly with his friends. But the Lord the sower bids the husbandman that one grain only, but the ripest, be now culled by the husbandman — and then this grain in like manner, so the rest following.” Hearing this, St Winwaloe humbly begged that, if any rust still harmed the grain, no stain of imperfection might remain in them — lest the enemy man, who never ceases to harm, should insult this harvest, seeing anything infected. The angel answered: “Believe me, that unless I had foreseen by tasting beforehand, I would not pluck or reap.” The saint also: “As your will, so be mine done.” The angel said again: “For so it is fitting, since they are already partakers of the heavenly feast.” These things said, and thanks to God being given in common, he ascended steadfastly through the air — long tracts left behind like the sun’s rays — to the place from which he had come, to be seen by St Winwaloe, showing him so great a shining region, to which he should one day follow after his own, and they who should remain, who should serve his bidding without delay, would follow him. And so it came to pass that by the aged elders, after he had told these things to his brothers, one was taken up and the rest followed in this manner — so that each one, as he excelled in age, so rejoiced in a chosen taking up, nor did the lesser in age pass over the greater. And this order was kept so long in that monastery, until not long before our time it was changed. But it seems to me to have been changed for this reason — lest for some negligent ones still set in a lesser age, if it could be, some sloth or idle security should arise from that; for example, that he who was now twelve years old or more, when he saw men still living there at a hundred or near it, would not care about his life or his death — since he would beyond doubt know he could not die until it came to him last in order, all the elders being taken before. Therefore by divine providence disposing — which ever bids us watch, because our going out is uncertain and unforeseen to us — it was permitted to change this; since if this had always remained fixed, the monastery could have been overthrown even by this alone: for one would fit one time for pleasure and another for repentance. Now therefore, when neither youth nor boy nor any age is known to have security of so long a life as the ancients, let all stir themselves to the labour, let all now desire to see the heavenly kingdom; and what the great elders bewailed was so long deferred, let now also youths and little ones seek. Let them shun all the vain and fleeting things of this world like serpents’ dens; let them ever set the day of their death before their eyes; let them ever think beforehand how they shall speak when they stand before Christ’s tribunal to render account of all they have done, where nothing is hidden — and let them fear the last and divine judgement, since it is so bitter to fall into the judgement of the living God, and since the word of God is lively and sharper than any two-edged sword, to whom nothing is secret — moved by whose terror the prophet himself said: “Where shall I go from your spirit, and where shall I flee from your face? If I ascend into heaven, you are there; if I descend into hell, you are present.” And he concludes with such a saying: “For the darkness shall not be darkened from you, and you have possessed my reins; you have received me from my mother’s womb.” If he is the possessor of the reins, who can hide the titillation of the reins’ flux before him? Let us therefore do what the prophet afterwards promised he would do, saying: “I will confess to you, Lord, for you are terribly magnified,” and the rest; and what is elsewhere: “Let us come before his face in confession and make a joyful noise to him in psalms.” Let confession from a pure heart therefore come first, then let psalmody follow. O dearest brothers, do these things among you. Let us hasten then to the good which ever is; let us leave in contempt what is not ever stable. Let us go to the kingdom, let us shun the pit; let us amend our life, correct our manners; let us love chastity, hate wantonness; let us despise the unclean boars, love the shining lambs of that most pure and cleanest Lamb who presides upon the summit of Mount Sion — to whom, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be honour and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.

¹¹ Moreover another thing worthy of praise is to be proclaimed, which was done of late under the stress of that same time while these things so stood. A certain most noble woman, a mother of a family, was suddenly struck blind. But she, being most prudent, turned not to murmuring lament but to giving thanks to God, and consoled her newly-risen bereavement by showing these three things: intent on continual fasts of two or three days, devoted in prayers, most fervent in most largely giving alms — she so turned her whole work to Christ that, bound by such great chastisements, she even surpassed manly deeds in almost every perfect pursuit. But almighty God, who never withdraws his gifts from them that rightly ask, did not long leave her works unrewarded. So on a certain night, when she had given herself a little to sleep amid many wearisome vigils, an angel of the Lord appeared to her in dreams and filled the whole house in which she slept with splendour, and said to her: “Listen — I, who am God’s messenger, tell you that your alms with your prayers and fastings are acceptable before God; and your prayer is heard — since you stirred yourself not to murmuring but to the pursuit of good work; and therefore you have obtained mercy and will surely be enriched with your former light, nor will you be defrauded of the eternal gift. Only receive gratefully this that is granted; but the works which you did before while blind, now seeing, do ever not more negligently. Go therefore — when the first light appears, arise, go to St Winwaloe, and through him you will receive health.” Nor saying more, he straightway ascended into heaven. And she, rising at dawn, with her own and her son leading her, took her way to the saint; and straightway drawing near to him, after she had adored, told him all the things that had been said to her by the angel. And he, humbly answering and giving thanks to God, said: “God, faith being applied, can do this”; and at once he touched her eyes with his right hand, saying: “May he who fashioned these deign to heal them.” And at once her eyes were opened, clearest light being given from above; and she went rejoicing and magnifying God — through whom a man set on earth, still living bodily, though already dwelling in mind with God in heaven, could do so great signs and wonders, as she had already heard before she came to him and had herself proved true by her own self — things she had long learned from those who told them far away.

¹² And when the time of his going forth from the holy body was at hand, an angel of God appeared to him in sleep with a most joyful countenance, shining rose-bright and in a resplendent robe like snow, and said to him: “Winwaloe.” And he said: “Here am I.” And the angel said: “Venerable brother, the citizens of heaven demand you for their fellow. For now the worthy reward of the husbandman who has sown well is to be repaid. The firstfruits of the crops, as is fitting, have gone before. For the greatest and most just elders bore witness that many of that congregation had preceded him to the heavenly kingdoms, buried by his own hand in one cemetery which they call the Relics of the Saints — of whose life and virtue there is no doubt that they are saints and elect of God. The ripe clusters have gone before the vine-shoots. Dispose therefore the vineyard which you have planted and propagated and dug to another keeper. It is now time to take the fruit which you have gained. O happy elder, keeper and hedger of the vineyard — when you will see your grapes, how fitly they are set, you will abundantly rejoice, since at every time they shall cleave to your sides. Set your house in order therefore, that they may ever exercise themselves most fervently in every good work — for you will soon be freed from the labour of this struggle. And they indeed, when they shall have striven well and lawfully, shall be freed — but now they are not taken, and they shall never be forsaken by you, though bodily absent, or by their successors for ever.” And saying this, taking up strength, he was raised into the ether. And St Winwaloe, after he had told all these things to the brothers, they both rejoicing and weeping said: “To whom do you commend us, father — lest we, left orphaned like sheep having no shepherd, be scattered through divers places?” And he said: “You have with you most skilled men in all spiritual doctrine; but rather choose and set apart for yourselves that shepherd who shall be sweet as honey and bitter as wormwood — for these things are most fitting to a shepherd. I have set a shepherd over you; see to it yourselves.” And saying this he speaks again: “Prepare yourselves today, for after I have sung mass and received that most holy mystery of the Lord’s body — about the sixth hour of this day — the Lord and our Saviour Jesus Christ, to whom I have ever longed to cleave, will receive me, delivered from this heavy body.” From then on he did not cease to refresh the hearts of the humble brothers with the medicines of the holy Scriptures — exhorting, and wondrously expounding the deep things of heavenly matters, and drawing certain new mysteries as though already raised heavenward — while they most devoutly asked and most humbly listened, waiting for the last hour until the signal of the third hour was heard. Then indeed, the signal of the third hour being heard: “Arise,” he said, “let us pray. Look — the hour of most serene rest for the passing elder has drawn near. Look — now the gates of the kingdom of heaven are opened, the trophies of Christ already glitter, the camps shine, the ethereal streets now appear, the citizens of heaven — how fairly are they shown! Already the envious malice of the foe — which even till now has scarcely and rarely ceased to mock — is prostrate, fallen by design; the prince of demons departs wasted and wounded. Do not therefore, my dearest brothers, seek peace here with the world — that you may deserve to have there the greatest and quietest tranquillity and most tranquil quiet in heaven, where is the highest peace and the highest tranquillity and the most tranquil height. Yet I would not forbid you to seek the true peace, of which it is said: ‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God’ — but that which the Saviour says he came not to send but a sword. For it is better to hear the bitter words of one who rebukes yet loves, than the sweet of one who flatters yet hates. Follow among yourselves the peace which the Saviour, returning to the Father, commended his disciples to have; ever love unfeigned peace: for the Spirit will flee the feigned thing and will in no way deign to dwell in a perverse man. Peace with the good and war with vices is ever to be held; may the peace which bound the apostles’ hearts together and established them in the faith consolidate yours also.”

¹³ These things being at last said, he is clad in the sacred vestments in which he should celebrate mass. Then, the most holy mass being finished, strengthened by the refreshment of the most holy Lord’s and mystical body and blood taken, standing before the altar honourably between two monks, sustained on either side, singing psalms with the brothers while the angelic choirs stood by, he gave back to God and the Lord Jesus Christ his most holy companion — his soul, clean from carnal pollution and untouched by bodily sickness. St Winwaloe therefore, a venerable elder, lord and excellent father of monks, full of days — as has been said, on the fifth of the Nones of March, the fourth day of the week, in the first week of Lent — whole both in body and mind, died without any pain of the loosening of his members: since he himself had already judged himself alone with most severe examination, that he should not again be judged with this world, as the apostle says: “For if we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged.” But he who shall have judged himself most sharply, ever following the rule of strictest justice, no longer fears judgement, but awaits glad and willing the fullest, fairest and sweetest reward of recompense. And the brothers buried his most holy body honourably and with the highest reverence, with hymns and psalms and spiritual songs — the most desired pledge granted them by God, through whom all things needful might be bestowed on them at their asking and very many wonders worked — giving thanks to God and our Lord Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns through all ages of ages. Amen.

Here ends the life of St Winwaloe the confessor #

The Metrical Life of St Winwaloe #

¹ Likewise here begins a third book composed in heroic metre, in recapitulation of the same books.

² Of the nobility of Britain.

³ Of Fracan.

⁴ Of the longing for the third child.

⁵ Of the horrible vision.

⁶ Of the storm on the journey.

⁷ Of his first sign.

⁸ Of his marvellous foreseen dedication.

⁹ Of the blind man healed.

¹⁰ Of his sister.

¹¹ Of the disciple healed.

¹² Of the shepherd of the flock.

¹³ Of the races of the horses.

¹⁴ Of Patrick in a dream.

¹⁵ Abundance brought forth the matter with the seed of things —
The ancient land called by the well-known name
Of Britain in the whole world. Yet its order
Was not kept measured in an equal balance;
See — soon infected it mingled its former law.
Its dear offspring, driven on by a malignant ruin,
Is carried by ship across the strait to this land,
Fleeing the deadly sword with its hard tooth.

¹⁶ There was a man of the ancient stock of the great Britons,
Fracan, borne down to the fields, sprung of great merit —
Here with a few companions, on the edge of the turf
He holds, left beloved of his own, while the plague
Covers the land; and fitly he places himself
In Armorica’s bosom, and then, finding no small
Estate in the rough woods, safe now with the mother
And the twin sons, he began to hold the fixed
Place now called by his name.

¹⁷ Then a third son is hoped to be had,
In the express honour of the highest threefold Godhead;
Whom the glad parents ask with prayers and vows,
Ever to be held the guardian of their own land.
But when mother Alba perceived her swelling womb,
She herself told her husband; then swift fame through all
Spread to his friends to come and see the triumph,
Whom all called the child Winwaloe.

¹⁸ Nor delay: shaken in heart with a terrible dread
While he wished him to follow the father’s talents,
The sire is terrified, cast down and subdued
To the ground by the Thunderer’s frightening power; and so
A suppliant — he who had refused to hand over one
To serve the Thunderer — is now seen himself to give
Three sons consecrated to you, kind Christ, to be
Companions of the holy Lamb shining on Sion’s top.

¹⁹ O happy way, by which you mount the fostering heights,
Great father of the boy — you run with a great gift,
And the boy, saint, comforts his aged parent.
Highest elder, receive the holy child received.
Fostering boy, bow down to venerate the holy master.
Great parent, you will search the heart of the great gift.
Best one, why do you linger, Fracan? Your offering is taken.
You well, Budoc, will accompany the man foretold.

²⁰ By chance there was a place named, known for prayer
And to be visited; when devout Budoc wished
To hasten here, a certain man is said to have given
Entry to wicked commands not fit; and at last
A harsh penalty at once followed him with broken leg.
When Winwaloe saw him sad and the brothers gathered
Round him, hidden till now he appears —
For a lighted torch cannot bear the darkness.
And O how great is your merit, rejoice, Budoc!

²¹ Beneath so great a span of time grace runs before the gift.
Tender in age in the excellent boy, he shines filled
With merits. Giving the consecrated food
He nourishes souls to be fed, and visits again
Those in the world in his manner; dictating, he strengthens,
Consoles and increases — seeing the unstable diminished,
He supplies the food that will last for ever.
So he fed the wounded hearts of the lesser with honeyed words.

²² Again also you gave eyes to the sick blind man,
Holy boy. For when the crowd of the languishing lying
In the gate is seen, and he himself, enduring,
Stands in the midst before the oracles of high Christ —
See — a whisperer raging runs about feigning trifles.
Yet you, patient, return soft answers to the hard:
You enriched with light one robbed of sight, led
By which fostering faith flourished with simplicity.

²³ You also, dear sister, felt your brother’s
Masterful gift, tenacious death driven back.
The eye was lost by a swift bird’s daring;
It was given back again at Christ’s minister’s coming.
How great was the parents’ grief and groaning
When they see the brow empty, the light torn out;
And when they see it drawn from the flying creature’s
Cleft belly, set back as before — what joys throb!

²⁴ Fortunate boy Tethgon, wrapped in sleep,
Not knowing the cunning deeds of the crafty serpent,
You run to so bright a master as is fit,
And your foot shown swollen with the whole body,
You beg to be snatched from it, the poison spreading.
He asked what was the cause of the wound and its source —
For hidden things cannot heal what is covered.
Sprinkled, you revive with water, the serpent slain.

²⁵ An excellent virtue is not to be passed over untold,
Which the shepherd of the flock deserved to win —
Thick darkness was laying low the keeper
Shut in, light now mixed with rain in the whole air.
And lifting his head he saw wolves surround him.
Anxious and shaken in heart with trembling fear,
He begged the help of St Winwaloe.
Nor tarrying, he came here also to bring aid to him asking.

²⁶ The chiefs’ pomp was the course of swift horses
Of Riwal and Fracan; and then the measure
Of this course was fixed, in which the swifter
Should be shown — suddenly the course of the horses
Is had swift as an eagle’s or hawk’s flight.
But the boy who sat the steed’s back, reproving,
Falls, cast down, and dies; but soon alive again
He is seen to stand on his feet, the saint approaching.

²⁷ These things thus finished, while he had fitted
His limbs, wearied with great labour, bowed a little
To drowsy rest — a lighter sleep pressing —
See — a certain one shining in snowy countenance
Appeared present, sparkling with rosy face, and first
Began speech: “This man, this,” he says, “is he
Whom you seek to have for master. Cease not to keep
Your sound mind wave-wandering. For I am called
Patrick, as you rightly discern; be not willing
To cleave the unknown bounds of sea and land,
But you will remain in these known bounds of the fatherland,
And yet increased with eleven brothers you shall go
Hence; the throne where Christ the fostering founder
Shall show, you shall hold ever radiate with light.
You are endowed — I know it, brother — with holy books;
Meditate in these persistently, and the fostering
Patron St Budoc shall not be thought to fail you
In love. But let our pattern not be far from your mouth.”
After he had set out these sayings from his shining
Mouth, the same saint ran in ruddy light.
Winwaloe soon told all that had been done
To St Budoc, where he had rested alone.
Why do I delay? When power of speech was given
To both, his arms entwined in rhythm,
Glad with the saying thus blessed by such a man
He goes forth with the companions of his bright genius’s nursing.

Here ends the recapitulation of the first book #

Likewise begins the second #

¹ Of his going out and his passage through the Domnonian regions, and of the place found.

² Of the crossing of the divided sea.

³ Of the situation of the same place and of the asking for water.

⁴ Of the devil’s phantom.

⁵ How he lived from the twentieth year of his age and onwards, and of his hair garments.

⁶ Of his food.

⁷ Of the manner of his drink.

⁸ Of his contemplative supplication.

⁹ Of the same address of king Gradlon.

¹⁰ Of the raising of Rioco’s mother.

¹¹ Of the three sons of Catmaglus and of the young man left in the skiff.

¹² That no one could die in that same holy place.

¹³ Of the woman delivered from blindness.

¹⁴ Of the same saint’s death foretold by an angel, and how the soul was translated from the body.

¹⁵ Thus far what he did in tender age
I have noted; now we will sing his deeds in maturity,
Which he did already living celibate in the body.

¹⁶ Now the next day was reddening from the rising
Of the eastern star, when it had breathed the deep
Ocean from its mouth. Trusting in Christ’s aid —
Not knowing where he should turn from there, but where
Christ the author should lead — he goes forth, a bright
Wondrous bright order, and a choir of stars
Taking the blessed way — not that alone which is trodden
With holy feet, but with the steps of the virtues;
And going through the broad countryside, they are fed
With the clear word, the fruitful seed of the divine
Word accompanying them, through the Domnonian lands.
There is an ancient place, hedged on every side
By the ebbing sea, stretched out to every wind
With sharp rocks — they call it Thope,
By the old surname Pygia. Here, wearied
With the journey’s long heat, they are borne.
Here also there was a high hill, and on it
The brothers were wont to sit and confer together.
From there is seen a wood gemmed with beauty
Across the river’s stream, which they call by a great
Name, and the sea flooded by the ebbing ocean marble.
To it they soon wish to hasten; but he, unmoved,
Could by no means be moved from there — until, touched
By a truthful breath’s warning, consent at last conceived,
Leaving the camp he trod the seaweeds unknown
To the untaught steps. But whether he worked
Wonders there, by the ancients’ sayings, we know not
At all; but only those deeds held fast by the root
We deem right to carve and now to set down.

¹⁷ Now the sun’s brightness, radiate in three hours,
Ran swift with loosened reins of horses,
When suddenly the bands of brothers mounted the hill.
The saint said to them: “Do you wish to go to that
Land which lies beyond the river for you?” They say:
“Yes — yours, saint, will be our will as your mind.”
He then, with the staff’s point turned, struck the sea
And led the company of companions, trusting, through
The shores — their holy right hands joined in turn.
The water stood hanging for the blessed soldiers.

¹⁸ There is a shaded valley shut in retreat,
A paradise visible towards the sun’s rising;
It was fragrant with springlike and kindly flowers.
Brought here with his companions he dwelt.
And from there, at the brothers’ asking, he ministers
Plenteous water bountifully; but such great joys
After their thirst show wondrous praises —
An excellent and wondrous gift to the saint after this.

¹⁹ Not long a time having passed, a struggle is said
To have been raised against the saint by the savage
Serpent, twisted in a thousand foldings with various
Deceits; but the darts hidden in the sacred books
He cast through from his cunning deep mouth,
And attacks it with such words and rebukes beyond:
“Whoever you are, adversary, who stretch to our walls,
Flee — why do you come? Now depart hence
And restrain your step. This is the saints’ place,
Consecrated through all times.” By these words,
Prostrate, the black plague of the dark demon
Departed, belching foul liquors from its belly,
And wounded soon mingled itself with the Lethean
Waters, seeking Cocytus’s deep pools and the Stygian
Marsh. Here the troubled abyss boils with filth and a vast
Whirlpool, and belches out all Cocytus’s sand.
The dreadful ferryman keeps these waters and rivers,
Black with terrible squalor, on whose chin lies
Much unkempt grey hair; flames stand in his eyes,
A sordid cloak hangs from his shoulders,
And he ferries bodies across in a rust-dark form.

²⁰ What manner of life he led in his mature years
I shall begin to sing hence, repeating from the first
Beginning. For when he knew how to lead thrice
Seven years, he himself sat within the church’s
Enclosures, not made known — five times intent
To say ten psalms thrice in the manner of the cross,
Or fixed with bent knees he was wont; nor seen
Wrathful or unstable; he knits all things that make
A saint in his body. So from that day on which
He began to found the holy fold, he is clad in no
Garment of linen or wool: but his dress is woven
Of goat’s rough skins. Content with this he remained
Both night and day. For fine linen and silk, he was wont
Fitly to stay his holy head and feet on two
Little stones; and if ever sleep crept on,
Burdened, he made his bed there on spread hair
And hard pebbles.

²¹ Wheaten grains do not supply his daily food,
But strong barley supplies his slender sustenance,
And long fasts break it, mingled with ash
In equal weight of such a measure of the balance;
And his pottage is of flour mingled with water,
Or seasoned with the strength of herbs alone.
Cheese provides a solemn light through the dishes,
And he takes certain fishes for a great gift.
He takes no flesh of quadrupeds or birds,
Nor takes anything fattened from them into use.

²² Woodland gifts offered supplied his cups;
These, when he had the strongest heat within,
Are said to have been more pleasing; nor did he care
To taste sweet meads and wines, which could
Overture the human sense — but chose rather
To shun them like a savage disease, and all following.
But when he sees the great burdens exceeding
His human strength, he, a prudent moderator,
Disposes for this time this rule of living — to have
It well measured after the pattern of the holy
And excellent father Benedict, written plainly
With the highest temperance.

²³ He was also wont chiefly to give attention to prayers,
Devoted — although the gathered company of his
Brothers obeyed in the craft — and the blessed man
Now longed to see the lands of high liquid Olympus.
With the flesh’s sickly bonds now loosed, he rejoices
To mount the heavenly realms with the bright troops,
Where Christ the Highest presides with his companion
Lambs. But lest he seem to bear the flock a burden,
Trusting in Christ’s aid he ruled all things rightly.
Many bodies of the sick are brought to him,
But the wound returned sound with a great reward.

²⁴ Meanwhile fame flies around the king’s ears,
Who ruled the walls of his high-founded sceptre,
Beneath whom a broad realm stretched with extended bound.
I have now sung enough of Gradlon and St Rioco —
How excellent Cornubia stood famed in praise,
And groans oppressed beneath a harsh yoke.

²⁵ You also felt the gift of the master’s virtue,
Whose dear parent is said to have been stricken
With languor. A messenger told the facts to St Rioco;
He then bore them back sent to the holy master.
The excellent shepherd warned that Christ’s commands
Must be followed — the dead bodies now rather
To be buried by their own; but when he could not
Defer, overcome by prayers, then at last he told
Him to go. Soon, content with a boy companion,
He began to go. At his entry the funeral cymbals
Sound. Hence he bids the groaning and wailing
Of death to depart; for he soon made the friends withdraw;
He pours water on the extinct and cold corpse.
But soon, as though tinged with a lighter sleep,
She returned, raised by the right hand of the holy
Master — she who had already been sunk in Tartarean
Pits; and the best of his service pleased Christ.

²⁶ At this time also there were three sons of Catmaglus,
Living in wicked order on the plunder of men.
Right and wrong together they weigh in equal balance;
All that they could by force or theft they dragged;
They know not how to spare so much as they can harm;
But those things taken by robbery delight them more,
And they rejoice to live by harmful theft.
Thinking all the hoarded wealth of this region’s
Collected money to be kept there, at last
By counsel they break the hidden enclosures — vain
Attempt — greedy, they invade like dire lions.
But the brothers’ floor, holding scant provision,
At once of itself unbolts to the entering wicked.
Elated by this they prepare to fill their sacks,
And flooded with light they corrupt the night’s terms.
And as they went out, a great vengeance soon followed.
One’s hip is broken, his body fallen.
Another loves weeping, fixed with unmoved body.
The third runs here and there, blind of eyes.
And a fourth pushes the huge skiff with his palm.
Meanwhile the saint Winwaloe keeps the night.
He reveals these thefts and raids to the brothers.
And when light-bringing Phoebus scattered his beams,
Gently he exhorts his companions with clear voice:
“O brothers,” he says, “dear to me, let us give.
Was not this the fit time to solace the needy?”
This said, going on he at once visits the sick,
Thrust into prison and bound by plague and fear.
He heals them of the body’s ills — why do I delay? —
And waters their dried souls with the dew of the divine
Word, and makes them excellent husbandmen of Christ.
Nor do they suffer themselves to be parted from
The master’s mouth, through whom they gleam glad
With perpetual crowns.

²⁷ Dire death could be plucked away — not tired
Old age — they say, who began the place
From the saint, since there they are said to have seen
Angelic sights tinged with rose colour and clad
In shining snowy linen woven with scarlet.
For death could not reign where fostering light
Reigns and remains — since those who confess to have
Seen angelic faces are not lacking from the old time.
Hence therefore the elders compelled them to lift
The camp not far away, but as far as a stone
Thrown from a sling would go cleaving the air.
Here again it pleased to fix a new camp and found.
And there a new paradise is seen, poured
With a clear flood from the sweet old brook and
A new spring. Here therefore he had the angelic
Answer: first to store the ripe harvests,
And to gather new sheaves hence with the reaper’s
Fair sickle, the end of the frost being past —
Where the glad husbandman rejoices with glad friends.

²⁸ No small salvation to you, while these many
Wonders are done, O woman whose eyes were
Suddenly snatched. For while you go, fairer,
Companioned with chosen dances, most rich
With the bright gems of wondrous beauty,
You bend the dire scourges of the present Lord —
Nor in vain do you bow beneath Christ’s lash.
You weigh out riches largely to the poor,
To gain among the Christian folk endless rewards
Where fostering light flourishes, where the highest
Grace of Christ — where the springing field shines bright
With eternal sun, conspicuous and filled with flowery
Odour. Bereft of the world yet not of the true
Light — now you are deprived of the world,
You ever cleave to Christ. With these words,
Sent down to her ears, the messenger borne
On starry steeds through the long void
Resounds: “O woman, your voices and gifts received
Stand pleasing to God the Lord on high through all.
Great faith has earned what simple it humbly asked.
Hence go confident to St Winwaloe,
From whom you may take this clear bodily sight
By gift — and, added, you shall be enriched
With the mind’s gift.” Nor saying more
He mingled with the soft airs. No delay:
When the first dawn of day reddens, rising
With her companions and her son she took the way.
They came to the saint’s shining roof-ridges,
Worthy with their excellent top-beams of gifts.
All things suggested to her she prepared to relate.
The saint answered these things with holy speech:
“See, handmaid of the Lord — Christ granting,
These eyes revisited will be able to receive.”
And he took care to touch her eyes with his right hand,
And she drank the placid light in the gift.
And returning home she gave thanks to the Lord,
And rejoices seeing what the telling fame bore,
Learning afresh the deeds she had held.

²⁹ And when the placid power is hoped to be at hand
For the elder, and he led the manifold rounds
Of his anguish and had done wondrous acts with holy
Strength — a victor and armed, awaiting the struggle’s
Reward — an angel descending from the summit
Of the clear heaven breaks his quiet slumbers
With words: “O keeper of the vineyard, follow
The clusters sent before — you will have the highest
Rewards of so great a vine. For after sweats
And heats and malignant rains, the best reward
Is given the next day’s day, and heaven’s gate
And the sceptre’s hall are opened to you.
Before the day’s mid-hour the vital breath
Shall be taken from the body and mount to the highest
Citadel. Christ the highest will be the guide
On the starry path. Come then, send swiftly
To the new keeper.” He spoke, and takes himself off
Swift with snowy wings. Then St Winwaloe,
His companions’ fostering companies gathered,
Unfolds with shining mouth. And the brothers
Ask with humble voice to be warned whose
Leadership they ought to follow. But he:
“Set before you such a one in whose mouth
Flowed the juice both of sweet honey and of wormwood.”
Meanwhile, while they compose such things with holy
Sayings, Phoebus in his wont led the third hour’s
Signs. Then, clad in holy white garments
He offers bread, a gift holy to God, and the liquor
Of wine; and strengthened in heart by these sacred
Things, leaning on two monks this side the altars,
He sent back his companion soul to Christ
With psalm-singing words — and among the angelic
Ones he rejoices to receive honours.
Mars by chance held the fifth day of the Nones,
When the saint is borne into the ether, full
Of virtuous pursuits and propped on a mound of manners —
Untouched by groan or pain of body, but with holy
Fasts, in the Paschal forty days’ season —
He mounts the high Olympus a victor through the clouds:
Bearing his orb on the fourth weekday, then
The first light scattered its white rays through all
Lands, and the bright sun had mounted heaven’s
Mid-axle, when he commends his holy life to the Lord
From the body. His disciples, chosen with zeal
To bury the master’s body worthy of its honour,
Bear it to the tomb, singing apt songs to resounding
Praises and hymns, and saying sweet things to high Christ.

Here ends the third book of the life of St Winwaloe of Cornubia. #

Three Hymns on St Winwaloe #

1. Here begins a hymn at vespers on the birthday of St Winwaloe, composed in iambic tetrameter #

¹ Illustrious confessor of Christ,
Who bring back with the year’s round
The festival joys to us,
Winwaloe, crowned with light,

² Who was so wary in speech,
While in this frail flesh
He lived, fulfilling in work
What you do rightly teach in words?

³ Favour with your prayers
Us clinging to your lights,
Begging at the sacred doors,
Crying aloud in your ears.

⁴ O light, O splendour of our country,
O everlasting hope, to your servants
Ministering solace,
Raise us with your holy right hands.

⁵ Shining by bestowing the mysteries
Of your radiant soul;
You do scatter words that sparkle
In your sayings with examples.

⁶ Holy one, keep us therefore
Serving in your bright halls,
Lest we be given over
To the savage fires.

⁷ Adorned with famous merits,
Restoring to former health
The enfeebled, you have drawn
Full many from the falls of death.

⁸ To the ruler of earth and heaven
To God the Father be glory,
With the Son and the coequal
Holy Spirit everlasting.
Amen.

2. Likewise another hymn on his birthday at matins, in trochaic metre catalectic in the third verse #

¹ A golden gem, with flowery
Crowns wondrously shining white,
With wondrous companions
Beset by eleven men,
Treading down this bloody
World, Winwaloe, of fairest fame.

² You are endowed with many gifts,
Strengthened with countless
Signs and wonders, and renowned
In trophies; raising many
Sick, you became known
To the common folk.

³ With dry footsteps, fostering one,
You do run through the deep sea.
But two given to death,
And one near to destruction,
Raised by your holy right hand,
Mighty, you gave back to life.

⁴ Bestowing heavenly gifts
To yours, necks bent to your words,
Composing sayings like golden
Honey in sacred baskets
Propped up, you sprinkled
With a bright shower.

⁵ And water likewise to him that asked
And the gifts of the sacred word
You gave to the flock:
For the virtue allotted you,
Given by highest Christ,
Was to feed the sacred flock.

⁶ You, saint, keep the servants
Whom Christ has now given you —
Now, one with the Father
Of the great world to come
And with the Holy Spirit
Living for ever.
Amen.

3. #

¹ Here begins the preface of the hymn of St Winwaloe, composed by Clement, of the college — to be sung by the brothers who dwell in his monastery from the kalends of November until Easter on the Lord’s days after matins. But from Easter until the same kalends let them sing whatever hymns they wish of those written above, which we have already fitted to his birthday — since the discourses to be composed are the shorter as the nights are shorter.

Pentameter verses #

¹ See — Clement has built a hymn for your
Honour, Winwaloe, comely, God granting.
As often as little letters are or are repeated in it,
Do you so often pour forth words to God for me.
Win for me pardon, cease not, saint;
But pity your servant Clement,
I beg — and let the brothers who are
Your followers so fulfil this in God’s love.
Now also let the abbot who shall read it with the brothers
Know that Aela told me to do it,
At the time when Solomon rightly ruled the Britons
And Rivelen was ruler of Cornubia.

Now the hymn begins #

¹ Gracious one, deign to cleanse
The guilt of your suppliants by their prayers,
Winwaloe, monk
Of the sublime heavenly ones.

² You, a wondrous Briton,
Bereft of the sun’s beams,
Are sent as our country’s
Daystar by the King of kings.

³ A citizen of heaven among earthly things,
Shining with the best of manners,
By spurning the world’s slippery ways
You do take the eternal gifts.

⁴ You did feed your companions at divers
Hours with honeyed words,
Sowing the Lord’s seeds,
That he might reap a hundredfold.

⁵ Most holily brought up,
Full of the holy Breath,
When you had learned letters,
You knew the canonical scriptures.

⁶ Happy the school which enriched
The saint with famous streams:
Not step by step did it descend —
It shone enough on the prone heart.

⁷ His understanding grew, surveying
The breast, flowing from heaven,
Exceeding the sun’s courses —
He increased divine manners.

⁸ Now Christ alone shone through him,
Who told us such things:
Seek not your master on earth,
But seek him above.

⁹ In restoring the infant’s leg
He showed a sign of power,
Lest the torch, submitted under
A bushel, should shine — but above.

¹⁰ And he visited the crowds
Of the sick and the poor:
Since he had no earthly treasures,
He offered heavenly ones.

¹¹ He healed then very many
Taken with deadly sicknesses,
Whom we can neither comprise
In number nor in writing.

¹² He first crossed the sea dry-shod
Behind the monastery,
The company of brothers following
And singing psalms to Christ the King.

¹³ Nature, unknowing its own
Law but subject to the saint,
Gave access to their steps
Seeking the forest’s depth.

¹⁴ He praying, the earth sent forth
A shining water through its veins;
The land, lacking prudence,
Did not scorn the pray-er’s heart.

¹⁵ Through him, death driven far off,
Two lived again in the body
Whom destruction had lost —
Besides him whom the serpent slew.

¹⁶ Let us not omit what he did
For the three robbers also —
Whom he healed of the flesh’s plague,
Whom he made Christians.

¹⁷ With dewy speech he sprinkled
Gradlon, the country’s leader,
Who, as a field not thorny,
Gave back fruits a hundredfold.

¹⁸ He bore a wondrous sign:
From his own sister’s
Belly of a goose he drew the little eye
And set it as another.

¹⁹ By the gift of your prayer
Wash away our guilt,
Lest the cunning thief of our heart’s
Bosom should enter in.

²⁰ As you healed the one howling
With the pain of a great tooth,
Condemned of the prince —
So intercede for us.

²¹ May Christ through you bestow
On us unfailing watch;
May he drive off the courses
Of the gentiles, and likewise of demons.

²² Our choir sings a hymn to God
For your deeds:
Do you for our sin
Pray most mercifully.

²³ The traitor’s dart being conquered,
May we be presented in heaven;
Nor suffer Tartarus,
But be borne up in glory.
Amen.