The Works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 12. John Dryden

bare upon his back the cok away:

      They crieden out, Harow! and wala wa!

      A ha the fox! and after him they ran,

      And eke with staves many an other man;

      Ran Colle our dogge, and Talbot and Gerlond,

      And Malkin, with hire distaf in hire hond;

      Ran cow and calf; and eke the veray hogges

      So fered were for barking of the dogges,

      And shouting of the men and women eke,

      They ronnen so, hem thought hir hertes breke;

      They yelleden as fendes don in helle;

      The dokes crieden as men wold hem quelle:

      The gees for fere flewen over the trees,

      Out of the hive came the swarme of bees,

      So hidous was the noise, a benedicite!

      Certes he Jakke Straw and his meinie,

      Ne maden never shoutes half so shrille,

      Whan that they wolden any Fleming kille,

      As thilke day was made upon the fox.

      Of bras they broughten beemes and of box,

      Of horn and bone, in which they blew and pouped,

      And therwithal they shriked and they houped;

      It semed as that the heven shulde falle.

      Now, goode men, I pray you herkeneth alle:

      Lo how Fortune turneth sodenly

      The hope and pride eke of hire enemy.

      This cok that lay upon the foxes bake,

      In all his drede unto the fox he spake,

      And sayde; Sire, if that I were as ye

      Yet wold I sayn, (as wisly God helpe me)

      Turneth agein, ye proude cherles alle,

      A veray pestilence upon you falle:

      Now I am come unto the wodes side,

      Maugre your hed, the cok shal here abide;

      I wol him ete in faith, and that anon.

      The fox answered, in faith it shal be don;

      And as he spake the word, al sodenly

      The cok brake from his mouth deliverly,

      And high upon a tree he flew anon.

      And whan the fox saw that the cok was gon,

      Alas! quod he, o Chaunteclere, alas!

      I have (quod he) ydon to you trespas,

      In as moche as I maked you aferd,

      Whan I you hente and brought out of your yerd;

      But, Sire, I did it in no wikke entente:

      Come doun, and I shal tell you what I mente:

      I shall say sothe to you, God help me so.

      Nay than, quod he, I shrewe us bothe two;

      And first I shrewe myself bothe blood and bones

      If thou begile me oftener than ones:

      Thou shalt no more thurgh thy flaterie

      Do me to sing and winken with myn eye,

      For he that winketh whan he shulde see,

      Al wilfully, God let him never the.

      Nay, quod the fox, but God yeve him meschance,

      That is so indiscrete of governance,

      That jangleth whan that he shuld hold his pees.

      Lo, which it is for to be reccheles

      And negligent, and trust on flaterie.

      But ye that holden this Tale a folie,

      As of a fox, or of a cok or hen,

      Taketh the moralitee therof, good men;

      For Seint Poule sayth, that all that writen is,

      To our doctrine it is ywriten ywis.

      Taketh the fruit, and let the chaf be stille.

      Now, goode God, if that it be thy wille,

      As sayth my Lord, so make us all good men,

      And bring us to thy high blisse. Amen.

      Sire Nonnes Preest, our Hoste sayd anon,

      Yblessed be thy breche and every ston;

      This was a mery tale of Chaunteclere:

      But by my trouthe if thou were seculere,

      Thou woldest ben a tredefoule a right:

      For if thou have courage as thou hast might

      Thee were nede of hennes, as I wene,

      Ye mo than seven times seventene.

      Se whiche braunes hath this gentil Preest,

      So gret a necke and swiche a large breest!

      He loketh as a sparhauk with his eyen:

      Him nedeth not his colour for to dien

      With Brasil, ne with grain of Portingale.

      But, Sire, faire falle you for your tale.

      And after that he with ful mery chere

      Sayd to another, as ye shulen here.

      THE FLOUR AND THE LEFE

THE ARGUMENT

      A gentlewoman out of an arbour in a grove seeth a great company of knights and ladies in a dance upon the green grass; the which being ended, they all kneel down and do honour to the daisie, some to the Flower, and some to the Leaf. Afterward this gentlewoman learneth, by one of these ladies, the meaning hereof, which is this: They which honour the Flower, a thing fading with every blast, are such as look after beauty and worldly pleasure; but they that honour the Leaf, which abideth with the root, notwithstanding the frosts and winter storms, are they which follow virtue and during qualities, without regard of worldly respects.

      When that Phœbus his chair of gold so hie

      Had whirlid up the sterrie sky aloft,

      And in the Bole was entrid certainly,

      When shouris sote of rain descendid soft,

      Causing the ground felè timis and oft

      Up for to give many an wholesome air,

      And every plain was yclothid faire:

      With newè grene, and makith smalè flours

      To springin here and there in field and mede,

      So very gode and wholesome be the shours,

      That they renewn that was old and dede

      In winter time, and out of every sede

      Springith the herbè, so that every wight

      Of this seson wexith richt glade and licht.

      And I so gladè of the seson swete,

      Was happid thus; upon a certain night

      As I lay in my bed slepe full unmete

      Was unto me, but why that I ne might

      Rest I ne wist, for there n'as erthly wight

      [As I suppose] had more of hertis ese

      Than I, for I n'ad sicknesse nor disese:

      Wherefore I mervaile gretly of my self

      That I so long withoutin slepè lay,

      And up I rose thre houris aftir twelfe,

      About the springing of the gladsome day,

      And on I put my gear and mine aray,

      And to a plesaunt grove I gan to pas

      Long