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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507275" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Cock and The Fox</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thogh brutal beestes be irrational,<br>That is to say, wantand, discretioun,<br>Yit ilk ane in their kindes natural<br>Has many divers inclinatioun: <br>The bair busteous, the wold, the wylde lyoun,<br>The fox fenyeit, craftie and cautelous,<br>The dog to bark on night and keep the hous.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sa different they are in properteis<br>Unknawin unto man and infinite,<br>In kind havand sa fel diversiteis,<br>My cunning it excides for to dyte.<br>Forthy as now, I purpose for to wryte<br>Ane case I fand whilk fell this other yeer<br>Betwix ane fox and gentil Chauntecleer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ane widow dwelt intill ane drop they dayis<br>Whilk wan hir food off spinning on hir rok,<br>And na mair had, forsooth, as the fabill sayis,<br>Except of hennes scho had ane lyttel flok,<br>And them to keep scho had one jolie cok,<br>Right corageous, that to this widow ay<br>Divided night, and crew before the day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ane lyttel fra this foresaid widow's hous,<br>Ane thornie schaw there was of greet defence,<br>Wherein ane foxe, craftie and cautelous,<br>Made his repair and daylie residence,<br>Whilk to this widow did greet violence<br>In pyking off pultrie baith day and night,<br>And na way be revengit on him scho might.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This wylie tod, when that the lark couth sing,<br>Full sair and hungrie unto the toun him drest,<br>Were Chauntecleer, in to the gray dawing,<br>Werie for night, was flowen fra hist nest.<br>Lowrence this saw and in his mind he kest<br>The jeperdies, the wayes, and the wyle,<br>By what menis he might this cok begyle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dissimuland in to countenance and cheer,<br>On knees fell and simuland thus he said,<br>'Gude morne, my maister, gentil Chantecleer!'<br>With that the cok start bakwart in ane braid.<br>'Schir, by my saul, ye need not be effraid,<br>Nor yit for me to start nor flee abak;<br>I come bot here service to you to mak.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Wald I not serve to you, it wer bot blame,<br>As I have done to your progenitouris.<br>Your father oft fullfillit has my wame,<br>And sent me meit fra midding to the muris,<br>And at his end I did my besie curis<br>To held his heed and gif him drinkis warme,<br>Syne at the last, the sweit swelt in my arme!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Knew ye my father?' quad the cok, and leuch.<br>'Yea, my fair son, forsooth I held his heed<br>When that he deit under ane birkin beuch,<br>Syne said that Dirgie when that he was deed.<br>Betwixt us twa how suld there be ane feid?<br>Wham suld ye traist bot me, your servitour<br>That to your father did so greet honour?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When I beheld your fedderis fair and gent,<br>Your beck, your breast, your hekill, and your kame-<br>Schir, by my saul, and the blissit sacrament,<br>My heart warmis, me think I am at hame.<br>You for to serve, I wald creep on my wame<br>In froist and snaw, in wedder wan and weit<br>And lay my lyart lokkes under your feit.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This fenyeit fox, fals and dissimulate,<br>Made to this cok ane cavillatioun:<br>'Ye are, me think, changed and degenerate<br>Fra your father and his conditioun,<br>Of craftie crawing he might beer the croun,<br>For he weld on his tais stand and craw.<br>This is no le; I stude beside and saw.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With that the cok, upon his tais hie,<br>Kest up his beek and sang with all his might.<br>Quod schir Lowrence, 'Well said, sa mot I the.<br>Ye are your fatheris son and heir upright,<br>Bot of his cunning yit ye want ane slight.'<br>'What?' quad the cok. 'He wald, and have na doubt,<br>Baith wink, and craw, and turne him thryis about.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The cok, inflate with wind and fals vanegloir,<br>That mony puttes unto confusioun,<br>Traisting to win ane greet worship therefoir,<br>Unwarlie winkand walkit up and doun,<br>And syne to chant and craw he made him boun-<br>And suddandlie, by he had crawin ane note<br>The fox was war, and hent him by the throte.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Syne to the wood but tarie with him hyit,<br>Of countermand havand but lytil dout.<br>With that Pertok, Sprutok, and Coppok cryit,<br>The widow heard, and with ane cry come out.<br>Seand and case scho sighit and gaif ane schout,<br>'How, murther, reylok!' with ane hiddeous beir,<br>'Allas, now lost is gentil Chauntecleer!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As scho were wod with mony yell and cry,<br>Ryvand hir hair, upon hir breist can beit,<br>Syne pale of hew, half in ane extasy,<br>Fell doun for care in swoning and in sweit.<br>With that the selie hennes left their meit,<br>And whyle this wyfe was lyand thus in swoon,<br>Fell of that case in disputacioun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Allas,' quod Pertok, makand sair murning,<br>With teeris greet attour hir cheekis fell,<br>'Yon was our drowrie and our day's darling,<br>Our nightingal, and als our orlege bell,<br>Our walkrife watch, us for to warne and tell<br>When that Aurora with hir curcheis gray<br>Put up hir heid betwixt the night and day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Wha sall our lemman be? Who sall us leid?<br>When we are sad wha sall unto us sing?<br>With his sweet bill he wald breke us the breid;<br>In all this warld was there ane kynder thing?<br>In paramouris he wald do us plesing.<br>At his power, as nature list him geif.<br>Now efter him, allas, how sall we leif?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Quod Sprutok than, 'Ceis, sister of your sorrow,<br>Ye be too mad, for him sic murning mais.<br>We sall fare well, I find Sanct John to borrow;<br>The proverb sayis, 'Als gude lufe cummis as gais.'<br>I will put my haly-dayis clais<br>And mak me fresch agane this jolie May,<br>Syne chant this sang, 'Was never widow sa gay!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'He was angry and held us ay in aw,<br>And wounded with the speir of jelowsy.<br>Of chalmergley, Pertok, full well ye knaw,<br>Wasted he was, of nature cauld and dry.<br>Sen he is gone, therefore, sister, say I,<br>Be blythe in baill, for that is best remeid.<br>Let quik to quik, and deid ga to the deid.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Than Pertok spak, that feinyeit faith before,<br>In lust but lufe that set all hir delyte,<br>'Sister, ye wait of sic as him ane score<br>Wald not suffice to slake our appetyte.<br>I heecht you by my hand, sen ye are quyte,<br>Within ane oulk, for schame and I durst speik,<br>To get ane berne suld better claw oure breik.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Than Coppok like ane curate spak full crous:<br>'Yon was ane verray vengeance from the hevin.<br>He was sa lous and lecherous,<br>Ceis could he noght with kittokis ma than servin,<br>But righteous God, haldand the balance evin,<br>Smytis right sair, thoght he be patien,<br>Adulteraris that list them not repent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Prydeful he was, and joyit of his sin,<br>And comptit not for Goddis favor nor feid.<br>Bot traisted ay to rax and sa to rin,<br>Whil at the last his sinnis can him leid<br>To schameful end and to yon suddand deid.<br>Therefore it is the verray hand of God<br>That causit him be werryit with the tod.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When this was said, this widow fra hir swoun<br>Start up on fute, and on hir kennettis cryde,<br>'How, Birkye, Berrie, Bell, Bawsie, Bround,<br>Rype Schaw, Rin Weil, Curtes, Nuttieclyde!<br>Togidder all but grunching furth ye glyde!<br>Reskew my nobil cok ere he be slane,<br>Or ellis to me see ye come never agane!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With that, but baid, they braidet over the bent,<br>As fire off flint they over the feildis flaw,<br>Full wichtlie they through wood and wateris went,<br>And ceissit not, schir Lowrence while they saw.<br>But when he saw the raches come on raw,<br>Unto the cok in mind he said, 'God sen<br>That I and thou were fairlie in my den.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then spak the cok, with sum gude spirit inspyrit,<br>'Do my counsall and I shall warrand thee.<br>Hungrie thou art, and for greet travel tyrit,<br>Right faint of force and may not ferther flee:<br>Swyth turn agane and say that I and ye<br>Freindes are made and fellowis for ane yeir.<br>Than will they stint, I stand for it, and not steir.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This tod, thogh he were fals and frivolous,<br>And had fraudis, his querrel to defend,<br>Desavit was by menis right marvelous,<br>For falset failis ay at the latter end.<br>He start about, and cryit as he knend-<br>With that the cok he braid unto a bewch.<br>Now juge ye all whereat schir Lowrence lewch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Begylit thus, the tod under the tree<br>On knees fell, and said, 'Gude Chauntecleer,<br>Come doun agane, and I but meit or fee<br>Sall be your man and servant for ane yeir.'<br>'Na, murther, theif, and revar, stand on reir.<br>My bldy hekill and my nek sa bla<br>Has partit love for ever betwene us twa.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I was unwise that winkit at thy will,<br>Wherethrough almaist I loissit had my heid.'<br>'I was mair fule,' quod he, 'could noght be still,<br>Bot spake to put my my pray into pleid.'<br>'Fare on, fals theef, God keep me fra thy feid.'<br>With that the cok over the feildis tuke his flight,<br>And in at the widow's lewer couth he light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Moralitas</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Now worthie folk, suppose this be ane fabill,<br>And overheillit with typis figural,<br>Yit may ye find ane sentence right agreabill<br>Under their fenyeit termis textual.<br>To our purpose this cok well may we call<br>Nyce proud men, woid, and vaneglorious<br>Of kin and blude, whilk is presumptuous.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fy, puffed up pride, thou is full poysonabill!<br>Wha favoris thee, on force man have ane fall,<br>Thy strength is noght, thy stule standis unstabill.<br>Tak witnes of the feyndes infernall,<br>Whilk houndit doun was fra that hevinlie hall<br>To hellis hole and to that hiddeous house,<br>Because in pride they were presumptous.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This fenyeit foxe may well be figurate<br>To flatteraris with plesand wordis white,<br>With fals mening and mynd maist toxicate,<br>To loif and le that settis their hail delyte.<br>All worthie folk at sic suld haif despite-<br>For where is there mair perrelous pestilence?-<br>Nor give to learis haistelie credence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wickit mind and adullatioun,<br>Of sucker sweet haifand similitude,<br>Bitter as gall and full of fell poysoun<br>To taste it is, wha cleirlie understude,<br>Forthy as now schortlie to conclude,<br>Thir twa sinnis, flatterie and vanegloir.<br>Are venemous: gude folk, flee them thairfoir!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Henryson">Robert Henryson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507275" data-title="The Cock and The Fox de Robert Henryson" data-description="Thogh brutal beestes be irrational,
That is to say, wantand, discretioun,
Yit ilk ane in their kindes natural
Has many divers inclinatioun: 
The bair busteous, the wold, the wylde lyoun,
The fox fenyeit, craftie and cautelous,
The dog to bark on n..."></div>
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