A TRANSLATION OF THE LEGENDA IN THE OFFICE PREPARED FOR THE BLESSED HERMIT RICHARD
The office of Saint Richard, hermit, after he shall be
canonized by the Church, because in the meantime it is not allowed to sing the
canonical hours for him in public, nor to solemnize his feast. Nevertheless,
having evidence of the extreme sanctity of his life, we may venerate him and in
our private devotions seeks his intercessions, and commend ourselves to his
prayers.
Lection I.
The saint of God, the hermit Richard, was
born in the village of Thornton, near Pickering, in the diocese of York, and in
due time, by the efforts of his parents, he was sent to be educated. When he
was of adult age Master Thomas Neville, at one time Archdeacon of Durham,
honourable maintained him in the University of Oxford, where he made great
progress in study. He desired rather to be more fully and perfectly instructed
in the theological doctrine of Holy Scripture than in physics or the study of
secular knowledge. At length, in his nineteenth year, considering that the time
of mortal life is uncertain and its end greatly to be dreaded (especially by
those who either give themselves to fleshly lusts or only labour that they may
acquire riches, and who, for these things, devote themselves to guile and
deceit, yet they deceive themselves most of all), by God's inspiration he took
thought betimes for himself, being mindful of his latter end, lest he should be
caught in the snares of sinners.
Hence, after he had returned from Oxford to his
father's house, he said one day to his sister, who loved him with tender
affection: `My beloved sister, thou hast two tunics which I greatly covert, one
white and the other grey. Therefore I ask thee if thou wilt kindly give them to
me, and bring them me tomorrow to the wood near by, together with my father's
rain hood.' She agreed willingly, and the next day, according to her promise,
carried them to the said wood, being quite ignorant of what was in her
brother's mind. And when he had received them he straightway cut off the
sleeves from the grey tunic and the buttons from the white, and as best he
could he fitted the sleeves to the white tunic, so that they might in some
manner be suited to his purpose. Then he took off his own clothes with which he
was clad and put on his sister's white tunic next his skin, but the grey, with
the sleeves cut out, he put on over it, and put his arms through the holes
which had been cut; and he covered his head with the rain hood aforesaid, so
that thus in some measure, as far as was then in his power, he might present a
certain likeness to a hermit. But when his sister saw this she was astounded
and cried: `My brother is mad! My brother is mad!' Whereupon he drove her from
him with threats, and fled himself at once without delay, lest he should be
seized by his friends and acquaintances.
LECTION II.
After having thus put on the habit of a
hermit and left his parents, he went to a certain church on the vigil of the
Assumption of the most Blessed Virgin, Mother of God, and therein he set
himself to pray, in the place where the wife of a certain worthy squire, named
John de Dalton, was wont to pray. And when she entered the church to hear
vespers, the servants of the squire's house wished to remove him from their
lady's place. But she from humility would not permit them, lest he should be
disturbed in his devotions. But when vespers were over, the sons of the said
squire, who were scholars and had studied in the University of Oxford, noticed
him as he rose from prayer, and said that he was the son of William Rolle, whom
they had known at Oxford.
Then, on the day of the aforesaid feast of the
Assumption he again entered the same church; and without bidding from any one,
he put on a surplice and sang matins and the office of mass with the others.
And when the gospel had been read in the mass, having first besought the
blessing of the priest, he went into the preacher's pulpit and gave the people
a sermon of wonderful edification, insomuch that the multitude which heard it
was so moved by his preaching that they could not refrain from tears; and they
all said that they had never before heard a sermon of such virtue and power.
And small wonder, since he was a special instrument of the Holy Spirit, and
spoke with the very breath of Him whose it is, as saith the apostle to the
Romans, to divide to every man severally as He will, and to make intercession
for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.
LECTION III.
Therefore, after mass, the aforesaid squire
invited him to dinner, but when he entered his manor he betook himself to a
certain mean and old room; for he would not enter the hall, but sought rather
to fulfill the teaching of the gospel, which says, `When thou art invited to a
wedding, sit down in the lowest room; that when he that bade thee cometh, he
may say unto thee, Friend, go up higher;' and this too was fulfilled in him.
For when the squire had sought for him diligently, and at last found him in the
aforesaid room, he set him above his own sons at the table. But he kept such
perfect silence at dinner that not a word proceeded from his mouth. And when he
had eaten enough he rose, before the table was removed, and prepared to depart.
But the squire who had invited him said that this was not customary, and so
prevailed upon him to sit down again. When the meal was over he again wished to
depart, but the squire, seeking to have some private talk with him, detained
him until all who were in the room had gone, when he asked him if he were the
son of William Rolle. Then he rather unwillingly and with reluctance answered:
`Perchance I am'; since he feared that if he were recognized the plan on which
his mind was set would be hindered. For this squire loved his father as a
friend with warm affection. But Richard--newly made a hermit without his
father's knowledge and against his wish--had taken this estate upon him because
he loved God more than his earthly father.
LECTION IV.
And when the aforesaid squire had examined
him in private, and convinced himself by perfect evidence of the sanctity of
his purpose, he, at his own expense, clad him according to his wish, with
clothing suitable for a hermit; and kept him for a long time in his own house,
giving him a place for his solitary abode and providing him with food and all
the necessities of life. Then he began with all diligence, by day and night, to
seek how to perfect his life, and to take every opportunity he could to advance
in contemplative life and to be fervent in divine love. And to what excellent
perfection he at length attained in this art of fervent love for God he himself
records, not for boastfulness nor to seek vainglory, but rather after the
example of the glorious and humble apostle Paul, who, narrating his rapture to
the third heaven, where he heard secrets which are not lawful for a man to
utter, also avows the greatness of the revelations made to him by God, and
openly exalts his own labours above the labours of all the other apostles. All
which things he wrote in his epistles for the profit and edification of others,
and left them for others to read. So too this holy hermit, Richard, in chapter
one of his first book of The Fire of Love, tells to what high and sweet
delights he attained by contemplation, so that others may obtain hope of
advancing likewise in acts of contemplation and of love for God, if only
watchfully, constantly, and perseveringly they persist in those works which are
ordained for the attainment of this most desirable state of perfection, and
hate and cut off as poison all impediments to contemplation.
LECTION V.
For in the aforesaid book he thus speaks: `I
marvelled more than I can say when I first felt my heart grow warm and burn,
truly, not in imagination but as it were with sensible fire. I was indeed
amazed at that flame which burst forth within me; and at this unwonted
comfort--because of my inexperience of this abundance--I have often felt my
breast to see if perchance this heat was due to some outward cause. But when I
knew that this fire of love had blazed forth only from within, and was not of
the flesh but a gift of my Maker, I was full of joy and dissolved in a desire
for yet greater love; and chiefly because of the inflowing of this most sweet
delight and internal sweetness which, with this spiritual burning, bedewed my
mind to the core. For I had not thought before that such sweet heat and comfort
might come to pass in this exile.
See then by these words how far he had advanced
in attaining the most sweet love of God; but, because there are many steps
preparatory to the kindling of this love--as, for example, those things which
diminish and remove the loves opposed to it--therefore this saint wore down the
lusts of the flesh; to the love of which many are borne off by a mad and
bestial impulse. He spurned the world too with its riches, being content with
only the bare necessaries of life, that he might more freely enjoy the delights
of true love. For these reasons, therefore, he mortified his flesh with many
fasts, with frequent vigils, and repeated sobs and sighings, quitting all soft
bedding, and having a hard bench for a bed, and for a house a small cell;
fixing his mind always on heaven, and desiring to depart and be with Christ,
his most sweet Beloved.
LECTION VI.
Yet wonderful and beyond measure useful was
the work of this saintly man in holy exhortations, whereby he converted many to
God, and in his sweet writings, both treatises and little books composed for
the edification of his neighbours, which all sound like sweetest music in the
hearts of the devout. And amongst other things it seems worthy of great wonder
that once, when he was seated in his cell (one day, after dinner) the lady of
the house came to him, and many other persons with her, and found him writing
very quickly. And they besought him to leave off writing and speak a word of
edification to them, which he immediately did, exhorting them most eloquently
to virtue and to renounce worldly vanities and stablish the love of God in
their hearts. Yet in no way on account of this did he cease from writing for
two hours without interruption, but continued to write as quickly as before,
which could in no wise have been possible unless the Holy Spirit had at that
time directed both his hand and tongue; especially as the occupations were
discrepant one from another, and the spoken words differed utterly in meaning
from those which he wrote. The saint also was sometimes so absorbed in spirit
while he prayed that once, when his cloak with which he was clad was taken from
him, he did not feel it; and when, after patching and stitching it, they
replaced it on him he did not notice it.
LECTION VII.
But the more laboriously and effectively this
blessed hermit, Richard, studied to acquire perfect holiness of life, so much
the more cunningly the devil--the enemy of the human race--sought to entangle
him by deceitful snares. So, as appears from a writing in the saint's own hand
found after his death in a small volume of his works, the devil, in the form of
a certain woman, tried to subvert him with the cords of illicit desire. Thus in
the aforesaid book he says: `When I had perceived my especial vocation, and
laying aside my worldly dress had determined to serve God rather than man, it
befell that on a certain night in the beginning of my conversion there appeared
to me, while resting on my bed, a very beautiful young woman, whom I had seen
before and who loved me--in honourable love--not a little. And when I looked on
her and was marvelling why she had come to me in solitude and at night,
suddenly, without delay or speech, she placed herself beside me. When I felt
this, fearing lest she should entice me to evil, I said I would arise and, with
the sign of the cross, invoke the blessing of the Holy Trinity upon us. But she
held me so strongly that I could neither speak nor move my hand. Whereupon I
perceived that not a woman, but the devil in the form of a woman, was tempting
me. So I turned me to God, and when I had said in my mind: "O Jesu, how
precious is Thy blood!" and made the sign of the cross on my breast with my
finger, which had now begun in some measure to be capable of movement, behold,
suddenly all disappeared, and I gave thanks to God who had delivered me. From
that time therefore I sought to love Jesus, and the more I advanced in His love
the sweeter and more pleasant did the Name of Jesus savour to me; and even to
this day it has not left me. Therefore blessed by the Name of Jesus for ever
and ever. Amen.
LECTION VIII.
Also this holy hermit, Richard, out of the
abundance of his charity used to show himself very friendly to recluses and to
those who were in need of spiritual consolation, and who suffered disquiet and
vexation in soul or body through the malignant work of evil spirits. God
granted him singular grace in helping those who were troubled in that way. And
thus it once happened that when a certain lady was drawing nigh to death--in
whose manor Richard had a cell (but a long way off from the family), where he
was wont to live alone, and give himself to contemplation--a great multitude of
horrible demons came to the room where the lady lay. It was little wonder,
therefore, that when she saw them visibly she fell into great fear and
trembling. Her attendants sprinkled holy water in the room and made devout
prayers; nevertheless, the demons departed not, but still continued to vex her
greatly. At length, by the wise and discreet advice of her friends, the blessed
Richard was called to the room, so that, if possible, he might bring the said
lady the aid of comfort and peace. And when he had come to her consolation, and
had admonished her holily, and had urged her to place all her hope in the
superabundant mercy of God and in His overflowing grace, he then set himself to
pray God with a fervent heart that He would take from her the fearsome sight of
the demons. And the Lord heard him instantly, and at the prayer of His beloved
Richard was pleased to put all that terrible troop to flight. Yet as they fled
they left behind them astounding traces of their passage; for all the
bystanders saw that in that rush-strewn floor of the room where the demons had
passed the rushes seemed to be burned and reduced to black ashes, and in these
ashes there were marks impressed like the hoof prints of oxen.
But when the demons had lost the prey which they
had sought in that place, they tried to take vengeance on Richard, who had put
them to flight. Accordingly, they went forthwith to his cell and disturbed him
so much that for the time they made the place unfitted for his contemplation.
But the saint of God, being stedfast in his faith, fled repeatedly for refuge
to the sanctuary of prayer, and by his entreaties once more prevailed with the
Lord to put them to flight. And, to the comfort of the aforesaid lady's
friends, he told them that she was saved, and that after quitting this life she
would be a joint-heir in the kingdom of heaven.
After this the saint of God, Richard, betook
himself to other parts, doubtless through the providence of God so that
dwelling in many places he might benefit many unto salvation, and sometimes
also that he might escape impediment to contemplation, as we read in the book
of the Lives of the Fathers that many of the most holy fathers in the
desert used to do. For frequent change of place does not always come from
inconstancy; as in the accusation of certain who are given to quick and
perverse judgment of their neighbours, but whose crooked interpretations and
habits of detraction ought not to make a sensible person neglect those things
which he has found by experience to be good and conducive to virtue. For in the
canon and decrees of the Church many causes sometimes are assigned for which
change of place may be made; of which the first is when pressure of persecution
makes a place dangerous; secondly, when some local difficulties exist; and
thirdly, when the saints are harassed by the society of evil men.
When, therefore, this holy man, for urgent and
most practical reasons had betaken himself to dwell in Richmondshire, it befell
the Lady Margaret, who had once been a recluse at Auderby in the diocese of
York, on the very day of the Lord's Supper was so overcome by a grave attack of
illness that for thirteen days continuously she was utterly deprived of the
power of speech. Moreover, it caused her such pains and prickings in her body
that she could not rest in any position. Now a certain goodman of that town,
knowing that the holy hermit Richard loved her with a perfect affection of
charity--since he was wont to instruct her in the art of loving God, and to
direct her, by his holy teaching, how to order her life--quickly hastened on
horseback to the hermit, who was then living twelve miles from the dwelling of
the recluse, and besought him to come to her with all speed and bring her
consolation in her great need. And when he came to the recluse he found her
unable to speak and troubled with very grievous pains. And as he sat by the
window of her dwelling and they were eating together, it befell at the end of
the meal that the recluse desired to sleep; and so, oppressed by sleep, she
drooped her head at the window where Richard, the saint of God, reclined; and
after she had slept thus for a short time, leaning slightly upon Richard,
suddenly a violent convulsion seized her in her sleep with fearful vehemence,
so that it seems as if she wished to break the window of her house. And being
still in this most terrible convulsion, she awoke from sleep, and the power of
speech being granted her, with great devotion she burst forth with these words:
`Gloria tibi Domine,' and blessed Richard finished the verse which she had
begun, saying: `Qui natus es de Virgine,' with the rest which follows in the
compline hymn. Then he said to her: `Now thy speech is restored to thee, use it
as a woman whose speech is for good.'
A little while after, when she was again eating
at the aforesaid window, in exactly the same way as before, after dinner she
fell asleep, and leaning upon the saint aforesaid, the same convulsions
returned, and she became, as it were, mad, and was shaken by extraordinary and
violent movements. But when the holy Richard was trying to hold her with his
hands, lest she should rend herself or strive in any way to injure the house,
she suddenly slipped from them, and in her fall was shaken out of sleep and
thoroughly wakened. Then Richard said to her: `Truly I thought that even if
thou hadst been the devil I should still have held thee; nevertheless, I give
thee this word of comfort, that as long as I shall remain in this mortal life
thou shalt never again suffer the torment of this illness.'
None the less, when the courses of several years
had passed, the same illness--except that she had her tongue free for
speech--returned to her. Therefore the recluse sent for the goodman aforesaid,
and asked him to hasten quickly on horseback to the house of the nuns at
Hampole--which place was far distant from her own dwelling--where the said
Richard at that time led a solitary life, and to see what had befallen him. For
she doubted not that he had passed from this world, because she knew that he
was faithful to his promise; and he had promised her that as long as he lived
in the flesh she should never again suffer such torment. So the said man came
to Hampole, and he learnt that the saint was dead to this world; and after
diligently inquiring the hour of his passing, he found that the aforesaid
illness had returned to the recluse shortly after the hour of Richard's
departure. But afterwards the recluse betook herself to Hampole where the holy
body of the said hermit was given burial; and never afterwards was she
afflicted with the suffering of this horrible illness.
LECTION IX.
But yet, lest it should lie hidden from
men--especially from those who by devout and diligent study are instant towards
the attainment of the perfect life--how and by what means that blessed zealot
of God, the hermit Richard, reached the stage of perfect love and charity, as
far as is allowed in mortal life, so that all other love became mean and
worthless for him and begat a dreadful horror: be it known, therefore, that he
himself, in his first book concerning the Fire of Love, chapter thirteen,
speaks thus: `In process of time,' he says, `great increase of spiritual joys
was given me. For there passed three years--all but three or four months--from
the beginning of the change of my life and mind to the opening of the heavenly
door, so that, with unveiled face, through the eyes of the heart, the soul
might contemplate the heavenly beings, and see by what way to seek her Beloved
and pant after Him. Then, the door remaining open, nearly a year passed before
the heat of eternal love was verily felt in my heart. I was sitting, forsooth,
in a certain chapel, and, while I was finding great delight in the sweetness of
prayer or meditation, suddenly I felt within me an unwonted and pleasant heat.
And though at first I wavered, doubting for a long time whence it might be, I
became convinced that it was not from the creature but from the Creator,
because I found it grow more warm and pleasant. But when half a year, three
months and some weeks had passed by--during which that warmth of surpassing
sweetness continued with me--there was borne in on my perception a heavenly
spiritual sound, which pertains to the song of everlasting praise and the
sweetness of the invisible melody. Invisible I call it because it can be
neither known nor heard except by him to whom it is vouchsafed; and he must
first be purified and separated from the world. For while I was sitting in the
same chapel, and chanting psalms at night before supper, as I could, I heard as
it were the tinkling music of stringed instruments, or rather of singers, over
my head. And while my whole heart and all my desires were engrossed in prayer
and heavenly things, suddenly, I know not how, I felt within a symphony of
song, and I overheard a most delightful heavenly harmony, which remained in my
mind. For straightway, while I meditated, my thought was turned into melody of
song, and for meditation I, as it were, sang songs. And that music voiced
itself even in my prayers and psalmody; and by reason of the interior sweetness
which was outpoured upon me, I was impelled to sing what before I had only
said. Not publicly, forsooth, for I did it only before God the Creator. Those
who saw me knew it not, lest if they had known they might have honoured me
above measure; and thus I might have lost part of that most fair flower, and
might have fallen into desolation.
Meanwhile wonder seized me that I had been chosen
for such great joy while I was in exile, because God had then given me gifts
which I knew not to ask, nor thought that even the most holy could receive such
in this life. Therefore I trow that these are not given for merit, but freely,
to whomsoever Christ will. Nevertheless I think no man shall receive them,
unless he especially love the Name of Jesus and honour it so greatly that he
never lets It from his mind except in sleep. He to whom it is given to do this
may, I think, attain that also.
Whence, from the beginning of my conversion even
to the highest degree of the love of Christ to which, by the gift of God, I was
able to reach--and in which state I proclaimed the praise of God with joyous
songs--I remained for four years and about three months. For this state, when
once the previous states are conformed to it, remains unto the end; nay, it
will be more perfect after death, because here the joy of love and charity
begins and in the heavenly kingdom shall receive its glorious consummation.'
The following prayers are from the Mass for
the Saint.
SECRET
O Lord, we beseech thee that these our
oblations may, through the holy intercession of the blessed hermit, Richard, be
accepted by Thee; that by their virtue we may be protected from all dangers,
and may be strengthened in the love of Thy Name ever more and more. Through our
Lord.
POSTCOMMUNION
We beseech Thee, Almighty God, that by the
prayers of the blessed hermit, Richard, we, Thy servants, refreshed by the
sacrifice of the Body and Blood of Thy Son Jesu Christ, may ever receive that
most precious food to our salvation; and so be inwardly nourished by the most
sweet charity and peace which that sacrifice represents. Through the same our
Lord.
HERE BEGIN THE MIRACLES OF THE BLESSED HERMIT RICHARD.
To be read during the Octave of the Feast
(The following extracts are from the Sunday
Lesson.)
LECTION I
But after the passing of this saint, Richard,
so dearly beloved by God, God did not desist from showing forth to men his
sanctity and glory by wonderful miracles. For example, in a town near to the
dwelling of the nuns of Hampole there was a certain householder called Roger,
who on the night of the Feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, Mother of
God, and on the two following nights, in his dreams saw the blessed hermit
Richard come to him, and he conversed with him about many things. Afterwards,
for six nights together, he appeared to him when he was wide awake, and taught
him plainly about many secret things, and inflamed him with the love of God and
with a spirit of holy devotion. Therefore he made up his mind that he would at
once honour the saint with grateful acts of reverence; and he believed that he
could please him especially by bringing stones, with his own labour and that of
his beasts, to build his tomb in the church of the nuns of Hampole, where now
his body is buried.
LECTION II
One day, therefore, while he was occupied
with the aforesaid work of piety, and had got ready twelve oxen for drawing, it
happened that when he had reached the gate of the churchyard at Hampole
carrying great stones, his poor beasts by an unhappy accident turned aside from
the path, and the cart collided with the side-post of the gate and cast the
said stones with great force upon Roger himself. Yet he was in no wise hurt by
this, nor felt any shaking or pain of body; and though his foot was very
tightly jammed by the stones, he was able to get it out without injury to foot
or leg. And, indeed, that this miracle should not be forgotten, one of those
stones was set up at the gate of the churchyard, so that those coming that way
might see it; and another is placed on the tomb of the saint.
Thus, as long as he lived, this saintly man was
wholly on fire with divine love, seeking nothing except that he might please
Jesus Christ, his most sweet Beloved; and any who would offer him faithful
service, and by devout prayers make him his mediator and intercessor with the
same Jesus Christ, has a most powerful argument from this history. And if he be
not in himself an obstacle, he will obtain his wholesome purpose.
. . . . . . .
LECTION IV
A certain woman called Joan being vexed with
demons lost the use of speech, and her bodily strength was so reduced and
exhausted that every one that saw her thought she must die. But one day the
blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, appeared to her in most beautiful white
garments, drawing near to her and leading the blessed hermit Richard by the
hand. And he, seeing the demons cruelly vexing the woman, placed himself
between them and her and made them depart. Then the blessed Richard put a ring
on the woman's finger as a token of the miracle and his saving help. When he
had done this, at once the woman ceased to feel the vexation of the demons; and
recovered the use of her speech and was healed of all her infirmities.
ALL THE MIRACLES OF RICHARD:
Preserved Roger from accident while engaged
in building the saint's tomb.
John: wounded by an enemy, is raised from
apparent death by prayer and the placing of money on his body, as an offering
to the saint.
Joan: Demoniac: cured by intervention of B.V.M.
and the saint, who places a ring on her finger.
Woman: the saint appears to a paralyzed woman and
restores her, bidding her tell her neighbours.
Thomas: bedridden: hearing in the night a voice
bidding him to send a candle of 1 1/2 lbs. to be burnt before the image of the
B.V.M. at Hampole, Thomas does so by his wife and family; and being alone in
the house the saint appears to him and, asking where the pain is, touches the
spot and heals him.
Son of Isabella: boy drowned by falling into a
well. A passing pilgrim tells them to visit the hermit's tomb at Hampole. They
do so, and pay a denarius at the tomb and the child is restored to life.
Hugh: falls into a well; is revived by his
mother's vow to offer a candle of the length of her dead son at the saint's
tomb.
William: bitten by a snake and thought to be
dead; but restored by a vow to make a pilgrimage to the saint's tomb. This
miracle is confirmed on oath.
John: Crippled in arms and legs: restored by
promise of yearly pilgrimage to the saint's tomb.
Isabella: deaf for seven years: cured by praying
at the saint's tomb.
Beatrice: dumb for six days: cured by praying at
the tomb.
Julia: demoniac and dumb for twelve days: falls
asleep at the saint's tomb, and Richard and the B.V.M. appear in a vision and
tell her to ask the priest to whom she will confess her sins, and she will be
healed in mind and body. She narrates that the brightness of the vision nearly
blinded her.
John: deaf for ten years; cured by praying at the
saint's tomb.
Woman: also deaf; cured at the saint's tomb.
Alice: dumb from S. Katherine's Day to Easter:
cured by praying at the saint's tomb.
John: insane: led to the tomb by his friends and
there cured.
Agnes: insane for three months. Her friends offer
a wax candle, measured to her height, at the saint's tomb, and she is
immediately restored to her senses.
Isabella: blind of one eye for twenty years:
makes a pilgrimage to the tomb and is cured.
Agnes: deaf for three years: restored at the
tomb.
Robert: totally blind for three years: hears a
voice bidding him go to the hermit's tomb, and, obeying, is cured.
Boy of 5: choked by an apple for three days and
thought to be dead: revived by a denarius placed on his head as an offering to
the saint.
Boy of 4: bad ulcer in the child's mouth
prevented his feeding. By wise counsel a denarius is laid upon his head, and
the ulcer vanishes and the child can suck.
Joan: fell into a mill pool: rescued after an
hour, and revived by prayer and being measured for a candle.
Woman: deaf for two years: makes a pilgrimage to
the saint's tomb and is cured on the spot.
John: deaf for a long time: is cured by the
merits and prayers of the saint.
Woman: her child is still-born and she is thought
to be dead: restored by being measured for a candle to the saint.
Isabella: the child falls asleep upon a heap of
straw and is smothered by it. When found is thought to be dead, but restored to
life on being measured for a candle.
THE FIRE OF LOVE OR MELODY OF LOVE, AS TRANSLATED BY RICHARD MISYN IN 1435 A.D.
FROM THE `INCENDIUM AMORIS' BY RICHARD ROLLEE OF HAMPOLE: AND NOW DONE INTO
MODERN ENGLISH