Playful Poems | Page 7

wife,?Jewel of love and joy, my only life,?That wert to me so steadfast and so true,?There liest thou dead; why am not I so too??Full innocent thou wert, that durst I swear;?O hasty hand, to bring me to despair!?O troubled wit, O anger without thought,?That unadvised smitest, and for nought:?O heart of little faith, full of suspicion,?Where was thy handsomeness and thy discretion??O every man, hold hastiness in loathing;?Believe, without strong testimony, nothing;?Smite not too soon, before ye well know why;?And be advised well and soberly?Before ye trust yourselves to the commission?Of any ireful deed upon suspicion.?Alas! a thousand folk hath hasty ire?Foully foredone, and brought into the mire.?Alas! I'll kill myself for misery."
And to the crow, "O thou false thief!" said he,?I'll quit thee, all thy life, for thy false tale;?Thou shalt no more sing like the nightingale,?Nor shalt thou in those fair white feathers go,?Thou silly thief, thou false, black-hearted crow;?Nor shalt thou ever speak like man again;?Thou shalt not have the power to give such pain;?Nor shall thy race wear any coat but black,?And ever shall their voices crone and crack?And be a warning against wind and rain,?In token that by thee my wife was slain."
So to the crow he started, like one mad,?And tore out every feather that he had,?And made him black, and reft him of his stores?Of song and speech, and flung him out of doors?Unto the devil; whence never come he back,?Say I. Amen. And hence all crows are black.
Lordings, by this example I you pray?Take heed, and be discreet in what you say;?And above all, tell no man, for your life,?How that another man hath kissed his wife.?He'll hate you mortally; be sure of that;?Dan Solomon, in teacher's chair that sat,?Bade us keep all our tongues close as we can;?But, as I said, I'm no text-spinning man,?Only, I must say, thus taught me my dame; {26}?My son, think on the crow in God his name;?My son, keep well thy tongue, and keep thy friend;?A wicked tongue is worse than any fiend;?My son, a fiend's a thing for to keep down;?My son, God in his great discretion?Walled a tongue with teeth, and eke with lips,?That man may think, before his speech out slips.?A little speech spoken advisedly?Brings none in trouble, speaking generally.?My son, thy tongue thou always shouldst restrain,?Save only at such times thou dost thy pain?To speak of God in honour and in prayer;?The chiefest virtue, son, is to beware?How thou lett'st loose that endless thing, thy tongue;?This every soul is taught, when he is young:?My son, of muckle speaking ill-advised,?And where a little speaking had sufficed,?Com'th muckle harm. This was me told and taught, -?In muckle speaking, sinning wanteth nought.?Know'st thou for what a tongue that's hasty serveth??Right as a sword forecutteth and forecarveth?An arm in two, my dear son, even so?A tongue clean-cutteth friendship at a blow.?A jangler is to God abominable:?Read Solomon, so wise and honourable;?Read David in his Psalms, read Seneca;?My son, a nod is better than a say;?Be deaf, when folk speak matter perilous;?Small prate, sound pate,--guardeth the Fleming's house.?My son, if thou no wicked word hast spoken,?Thou never needest fear a pate ybroken;?But he that hath missaid, I dare well say,?His fingers shall find blood thereon, some day.?Thing that is said, is said; it may not back?Be called, for all your "Las!" and your "Alack!"?And he is that man's thrall to whom 'twas said;?Cometh the bond some day, and will be paid.?My son, beware, and be no author new?Of tidings, whether they be false or true:?Go wheresoe'er thou wilt, 'mongst high or low,?Keep well thy tongue, and think upon the crow.
CHAUCER'S RIME OF SIR THOPAS?MODERNISED BY Z. A. Z.
PROLOGUE TO SIR THOPAS.
1.?Now when the Prioress had done, each man?So serious looked, 'twas wonderful to see!?Till our good host to banter us began,?And then at last he cast his eyes on me,?And jeering said, "What man art thou?" quoth he,?"That lookest down as thou wouldst find a hare,?For ever upon the ground I see thee stare.
2.?"Approach me near, and look up merrily!?Now make way, sirs! and let this man have place.?He in the waist is shaped as well as I:?This were a poppet in an arm's embrace,?For any woman, small and fair of face.?He seemeth elf-like by his countenance,?For with no wight holdeth he dalliance.
3.?"Say somewhat now, since other folks have said;?Tell us a tale o' mirth, and that anon."?"Host," quoth I then, "be not so far misled,?For other tales except this know I none;?A little rime I learned in years agone."?"Ah! that is well," quoth he; "now we shall hear?Some dainty thing, methinketh, by thy cheer."
THE RIME OF SIR THOPAS.
FYTTE THE FIRST. {30}
1.?Listen, lordlings, in good intent,?And I will tell you verament?Of mirth and chivalry,?About a knight on glory bent,?In battle and in tournament;?Sir Thopas named