Song and Legend From the Middle Ages [15]
to take. A nether bough he raught at last; He with his right hand held it fast, And with his left him fed: His sturdy mare abode the shock, And bore, as steadfast as a rock, The struggling overhead.
So feasted long the merry priest, Nor much bethought him of his beast Till hunger's rage was ended: Then, "Sooth!" quoth he, "whoe'er should cry, 'What ho, fair sir!' in passing by, Would leave me here suspended."
Alack! for dread of being hanged, With voice so piercing shrill he twanged The word of luckless sound, His beast sprang forward at the cry, And plumb the priest dropped down from high Into the brake profound.
There, pricked and pierced with many a thorn, And girt with brier, and all forlorn, Naught boots him to complain: Well may ye ween how ill bested He rolled him on that restless bed, But rolled and roared in vain:
For there algates he must abide The glowing noon, the eventide, The livelong night and all; The whiles with saddle swinging round, And bridle trailing on the ground, His mare bespoke his fall.
O, then his household shrieked for dread, And weened at least he must be dead; His lady leman swooned: Eftsoons they hie them all to look If haply in some dell or nook His body might be found.
Through all the day they sped their quest; The night fled on, they took no rest; Returns the morning hour: When, lo! at peeping of the dawn. It chanced a varlet boy was drawn Nigh to the mulberry-bower.
The woful priest the help descried: "O, save my life! my life!" he cried, "Enthralled in den profound! O, pluck me out, for pity's sake, From this inextricable brake, Begirt with brambles round!"
"Alas, my lord! my master dear! What ugly chance hath dropped thee here?" Exclaimed the varlet youth. "'T was gluttony"' the priest replied, With peerless folly by her side: But help me straight,for ruth!"
By this were come the remnant rout; With passing toil they plucked him out, And slowly homeward led: But, all so tattered in his hide, Long is he fain in bed to bide, But little less than dead.
--Tr. by Way.
A special development of the fable is the mock-epic "Reynard the Fox", one of the most noteworthy developments in literature of the Middle Ages. It is an elaborate, semi-epic set of stories in which Reynard is the embodiment of cunning and discreet valor, while his great enemy, Isegrim, the wolf, represents stupid strength. From the beginning of this set of fables, there is a tone of satirical comment on men and their affairs. In the later developments of the story, elaborate allegories are introduced, and monotonous moralizings take the place of the earlier, simpler humor.
The fable reached its greatest development in France, but all Europe shared in making and delighting in it.
Our extracts are taken from Caxton's translation of the Flemish form of the legend.
FROM REYNARD THE FOX.
Part II. Chapter 33.
REYNARD AND ERSWYNDE (THE WOLF'S WIFE) AT THE WELL.
Then spoke Erswynde, the wolf's wife, "Ach! Fell Reynard, no man can keep himself from thee, thou canst so well utter thy words and thy falseness; but it shall be evil, rewarded in the end. How broughtest thou me once, into the well, where the two buckets hung by one cord running through one pulley which went one up and another down? Thou sattest in one bucket beneath in the pit in great dread. I came thither and heard thee sigh and make sorrow, and asked thee how thou camest there. Thou saidst that thou hadst there so many good fishes eaten out of the water that thy belly wouldst burst. I said, 'tell me how I shall come to thee.' Then saidst thou: 'Aunt, spring into that bucket that hangeth there, and thou shalt come anon to me.' I did so, and I went downward and ye came upward, and then I was all angry. Thou saidst, 'thus fareth the world, that one goeth up and another goeth down.' Then sprang ye forth and went your way, and I abode there alone, sitting an whole day, sore and hungry and acold. And thereto had I many a stroke ere I could get thence." "Aunt," said the fox, "though the strokes did you harm, I had leifer ye
So feasted long the merry priest, Nor much bethought him of his beast Till hunger's rage was ended: Then, "Sooth!" quoth he, "whoe'er should cry, 'What ho, fair sir!' in passing by, Would leave me here suspended."
Alack! for dread of being hanged, With voice so piercing shrill he twanged The word of luckless sound, His beast sprang forward at the cry, And plumb the priest dropped down from high Into the brake profound.
There, pricked and pierced with many a thorn, And girt with brier, and all forlorn, Naught boots him to complain: Well may ye ween how ill bested He rolled him on that restless bed, But rolled and roared in vain:
For there algates he must abide The glowing noon, the eventide, The livelong night and all; The whiles with saddle swinging round, And bridle trailing on the ground, His mare bespoke his fall.
O, then his household shrieked for dread, And weened at least he must be dead; His lady leman swooned: Eftsoons they hie them all to look If haply in some dell or nook His body might be found.
Through all the day they sped their quest; The night fled on, they took no rest; Returns the morning hour: When, lo! at peeping of the dawn. It chanced a varlet boy was drawn Nigh to the mulberry-bower.
The woful priest the help descried: "O, save my life! my life!" he cried, "Enthralled in den profound! O, pluck me out, for pity's sake, From this inextricable brake, Begirt with brambles round!"
"Alas, my lord! my master dear! What ugly chance hath dropped thee here?" Exclaimed the varlet youth. "'T was gluttony"' the priest replied, With peerless folly by her side: But help me straight,for ruth!"
By this were come the remnant rout; With passing toil they plucked him out, And slowly homeward led: But, all so tattered in his hide, Long is he fain in bed to bide, But little less than dead.
--Tr. by Way.
A special development of the fable is the mock-epic "Reynard the Fox", one of the most noteworthy developments in literature of the Middle Ages. It is an elaborate, semi-epic set of stories in which Reynard is the embodiment of cunning and discreet valor, while his great enemy, Isegrim, the wolf, represents stupid strength. From the beginning of this set of fables, there is a tone of satirical comment on men and their affairs. In the later developments of the story, elaborate allegories are introduced, and monotonous moralizings take the place of the earlier, simpler humor.
The fable reached its greatest development in France, but all Europe shared in making and delighting in it.
Our extracts are taken from Caxton's translation of the Flemish form of the legend.
FROM REYNARD THE FOX.
Part II. Chapter 33.
REYNARD AND ERSWYNDE (THE WOLF'S WIFE) AT THE WELL.
Then spoke Erswynde, the wolf's wife, "Ach! Fell Reynard, no man can keep himself from thee, thou canst so well utter thy words and thy falseness; but it shall be evil, rewarded in the end. How broughtest thou me once, into the well, where the two buckets hung by one cord running through one pulley which went one up and another down? Thou sattest in one bucket beneath in the pit in great dread. I came thither and heard thee sigh and make sorrow, and asked thee how thou camest there. Thou saidst that thou hadst there so many good fishes eaten out of the water that thy belly wouldst burst. I said, 'tell me how I shall come to thee.' Then saidst thou: 'Aunt, spring into that bucket that hangeth there, and thou shalt come anon to me.' I did so, and I went downward and ye came upward, and then I was all angry. Thou saidst, 'thus fareth the world, that one goeth up and another goeth down.' Then sprang ye forth and went your way, and I abode there alone, sitting an whole day, sore and hungry and acold. And thereto had I many a stroke ere I could get thence." "Aunt," said the fox, "though the strokes did you harm, I had leifer ye