I, who have lov'd and honor'd you so long:
Stay, gentle sir, nor take a false alarm,
For on my soul I never meant you harm.
I come no spy, nor as a traitor press,
To learn the secrets of your soft recess -
Far be from Reynard so profane a thought-
But by the sweetness of your voice was
brought:

600

For, as I bid my beads, by chance I heard The song as of an angel in the yard;

A song that would have charm'd th' infernal gods,

And banish'd horror from the dark abodes: Had Orpheus sung it in the nether sphere, So much the hymn had pleas'd the tyrant's ear,

The wife had been detain'd, to keep the husband there.

"My lord, your sire familiarly I knew, Α peer deserving such a son as you: He, with your lady mother, (whom Heav'n rest,)

610

Has often grac'd my house and been my

Nor Pindar's heav'nly lyre, nor Horace when a swan.

Your ancestors proceed from race divine: From Brennus and Belinus is your line; Who gave to sov'reign Rome such loud alarms,

That ev'n the priests were not excus'd from

arms.

"Besides, a famous monk of modern times Has left of cocks recorded in his rhymes, 640 That of a parish priest the son and heir, (When sons of priests were from the proverb clear,)

Affronted once a cock of noble kind, And either lam'd his legs or struck him blind;

For which the clerk his father was disgrac'd, And in his benefice another plac'd.

Now sing, my lord, if not for love of me, Yet for the sake of sweet Saint Charity; Make hills, and dales, and earth, and heav'n rejoice,

And emulate your father's angel voice." 650 The cock was pleas'd to hear him speak so fair,

And proud beside, as solar people are;
Nor could the treason from the truth descry,
So was he ravish'd with this flattery:
So much the more, as, from a little elf,
He had a high opinion of himself;
Tho' sickly, slender, and not large of limb,
Concluding all the world was made for him.

660

Ye princes, rais'd by poets to the gods, And Alexander'd up in lying odes, Believe not ev'ry flatt'ring knave's report, There's many a Reynard lurking in the

Cross to the worthy native, in his scheme ! Ah blissful Venus, goddess of delight, How couldst thou suffer thy devoted knight

On thy own day to fall by foe oppress'd, The wight of all the world who serv'd thee best? 690

Who, true to love, was all for recreation, And minded not the work of propagation. Gaufride, who couldst so well in rhyme complain

The death of Richard with an arrow slain, Why had not I thy Muse, or thou my heart, To sing this heavy dirge with equal art! That I like thee on Friday might complain; For on that day was Cœur de Lion slain.

Not louder cries, when Ilium was in flames,

Were sent to heav'n by woful Trojan dames,

When Pyrrhus toss'd on high his bur

nish'd blade,

And offer'd Priam to his father's shade, Than for the cock the widow'd poultry made.

700

'See, fools, the shelter of the wood is nigh, And Chanticleer in your despite shall die; He shall be pluck'd and eaten to the bone."" ""Tis well advis'd, in faith it shall be done;"

This Reynard said; but, as the word he spoke,

The pris'ner with a spring from prison broke;

Then stretch'd his feather'd fans with all his might,

770

And to the neighb'ring maple wing'd his flight.

Whom when the traitor safe on tree beheld,

He curs'd the gods, with shame and sorrow fill'd;

Shame for his folly, sorrow out of time, For plotting an unprofitable crime: Yet mast'ring both, th' artificer of lies Renews th' assault, and his last batt'ry tries. "Tho' I," said he, “did neʼer in thought offend,

How justly may my lord suspect his friend? Th' appearance is against me, I confess, 780 Who seemingly have put you in distress: You, if your goodness does not plead my

ing eyes,

800

And open mouth, for fear of catching flies. Who blindfold walks upon a river's brim, When he should see, has he deserv'd to swim ?"

"Better, sir cock, let all contention cease; Come down," said Reynard, "let us treat of peace."

"A peace with all my soul," said Chanticleer,

"But, with your favor, I will treat it here; And, lest the truce with treason should be mix'd,

'Tis my concern to have the tree betwixt."

THE MORAL

In this plain fable you th' effect may see 810
Of negligence and fond credulity;
And learn besides of flatt'rers to beware,
Then most pernicious when they speak too
fair.

The cock and fox the fool and knave imply;
The truth is moral, tho' the tale a lie.
Who spoke in parables, I dare not say;
But sure he knew it was a pleasing way,
Sound sense, by plain example, to convey.
And in a heathen author we may find,
That pleasure with instruction should be
join'd;

820

So take the corn, and leave the chaff behind.

THEODORE AND HONORIA

FROM BOCCACE

Of all the cities in Romanian lands, The chief, and most renown'd, Ravenna stands,

Adorn'd in ancient times with arms and arts, And rich inhabitants, with generous hearts. But Theodore the brave, above the rest, With gifts of fortune and of nature blest, The foremost place for wealth and honor held,

And all in feats of chivalry excell❜d.

This noble youth to madness lov'd a dame,

Of high degree; Honoria was her name; 10 Fair as the fairest, but of haughty mind, And fiercer than became so soft a kind; Proud of her birth, (for equal she had none,)

The rest she scorn'd, but hated him alone. His gifts, his constant courtship, nothing gain'd;

For she, the more he lov'd, the more disdain'd.

He liv'd with all the pomp he could devise,

At tilts and turnaments obtain❜d the prizes

But found no favor in his lady's eyes: Relentless as a rock, the lofty maid Turn'd all to poison that he did or said: Nor pray'rs, nor tears, nor offer'd vows could move;

The work went backward; and, the more he strove

T'advance his suit, the farther from her love.

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