Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FOX AND THE WOLF, by ANONYMOUS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE FOX AND THE WOLF, by                    
First Line: A fox came forth from out the wood
Last Line: Nor pardon for all he had done amiss!
Subject(s): Fairy Tales


A FOX came forth from out the wood,
A-hungered sore, in search of food,
Never in all his life before
Had hunger plagued him half so sore.
He went by neither road nor street,
For loth he was with folk to meet,
Liever he were one hen to see
Than fifty women, tho' fair they be!
Over the fields he sped full fast,
Till that he came to a wall at last,
Within the wall a house there stood;
The fox he hastened in eager mood,
For he thought his hunger there to still
With meat or drink, as should be his will.
Looking about him on every side
With swifter pace the fox, he hied,
Until he came to the wall of stone,
And some thereof was overthrown,
And the wall was broken all along,
But locked was the one gate stout and strong.
At the nearest breach that the fox might win
Over he leapt, and gat him in.
When he was in he laughed, I trow,
And of his coming made sport enow,
For that he had entered and asked no leave
Either of bailiff, or yet of grieve!
To an open door he crept so soft,
There sat the hens in a row aloft,
Five there were, which doth make a flock,
And there in the midst there sat one cock.
The cock, he had perched him far on high,
And two of the hens they sat him nigh.
"Fox," quoth the cock: "what dost thou there?
Get thee from hence, Christ give thee care!
Oft to our hens hast thou done foul shame,
Be gone, I bid thee, in Heaven's Name!"
Then answered the fox: "Sir Chanticleer,
Fly thou adown, and come anear,
Ne'er have I done thee aught but good,
To thy hens have I sometime let their blood,
Sick they were 'neath the ribs, I wot,
Short span of life had been then their lot
Save that their veins should opened be,
And that have I done, for charity!
I have but drawn from their veins the blood,
And Chanticleer, it would do thee good,
Thou, too, hast that sickness beneath the spleen,
Scarce ten days more shalt thou live, I ween,
Thy life-days all shall pass with speed
Save that thou follow this my rede,
I will let thee blood beneath the breast,
Else soon must thou bid to thee the priest!"
"Get hence," quoth the cock: "shame be to thee,
Thou hast wronged our kin right woefully,
Get thee away, ere thou doest worse,
And here I call on thee Heaven's curse!
For an I came down, in Heaven's Name,
I were assured of bitter shame.
But an he wist, our Cellarer,
That thou hadst dared to enter here,
For sure he were on thy track ere long,
With pikes, and stones, and staves so strong,
All thy bones he would swiftly break,
And thus our vengeance upon thee take!"

The fox was still, he spake no more,
But now was he athirst full sore,
I ween the thirst it vexed him more
than e'er the hunger had done afore;
All around him he prowled and sought
Until by hap his wanderings brought
Him nigh to a well of water clear,
Of cunning fashion, as ye shall hear.
Two buckets there at the well he found,
The one was down to the water wound,
And when men wound it up to the brink
The other bucket adown would sink.
The fox knew naught how the matter lay,
Into the bucket he leapt straightway,
For so he thought him his fill to drink --
But swift the bucket began to sink;
Too late the fox himself bethought,
And saw how he in a snare was caught,
But tho' he bethought himself enow
It helped him naught in this need, I trow!
Down must he go, he was held fast there,
Trapped he was in a cunning snare,
Had he known, it had been his will
To leave that bucket hanging still!
What with sorrow, and what with dread,
All his thirst, it hath from him sped.
Thus at last he came to the ground,
Water, enow, I ween, he found,
But tho' 't was there, he little drank,
For it seemed to him that the water stank
Since against his will he was there down thrust --
"Woe worth," quoth the fox: "desire and lust,
That knoweth not measure unto his meat, --
Were I not minded o'ermuch to eat
This shame had never my portion been,
But the lust of my mouth was over keen,
He who to thieving doth set his hand,
Ill is his portion in every land!
Here am I caught in trap and gin,
Methinks some devil brought me herein,
I was wont to be wise, but now I see
My race is run, here's an end of me!"

The fox he wept, and made loud lament:
There came a wolf on like errand bent,
Out of the woodland deep he sped,
For he, too, was sore a-hungered,
Nothing throughout the night he found
To still his hunger at that stound.
He came to the well where the fox made moan,
And knew him again by his voice alone,
For that he had long his neighbour been,
And gossip unto his bairns, I ween.
Adown by the brink of the well he sat,
Quoth the wolf aloud: "What now is that?
Whose voice is that in the well I hear,
Art thou baptized my comrade dear?
Mock me not, but I prithee tell
Who now hath put thee adown the well?"
The fox, he knew him well for his kin,
And straight by his coming did counsel win,
And sought some wile that success might crown,
To bring himself up, and the wolf adown.
Quoth the fox in answer: "Who cometh here,
I ween it be Sigrim's voice I hear?"
"That is sooth:" quoth the wolf with speed,
"But who shalt thou be? So God give thee rede!"
"Aye," quoth the fox: "now hearken me,
In no single word will I lie to thee;
I am Reynard, thy friend of old,
And had'st thou afore-time thy coming told
Then in very sooth had I prayed for thee,
As boon, that thou should'st come here to me!"
"To thee?" quoth the wolf, "I prithee tell,
What should I do there, in the well?"
Quoth the fox: "Nay, nay, thou art unwise,
Here is the bliss of Paradise,
Here in plenty I ever fare
Free from trouble, and free from care,
Here be meat and drink enow,
And bliss that fadeth not, I trow,
Hunger herein shall ye never know,
Nor sorrow, nor any kind of woe,
Of every good is there plenty here --"
The wolf he laughed those words to hear:
"God give thee rede, art thou dead, i-troth,
Or yet of this world?" the wolf he quoth.
He spake again: "When dids't thou die?
And what art thou doing there, verily?
There are scarce passed days but three
Since thou and thy wife ye supped with me,
Ye, and your children, small and great,
Ye all together with me ate."
"Yea," quoth the fox: "thou sayest sooth,
God be thanked, yet now hear the truth,
Now have I made a right fitting end,
Naught do I owe thee for that, my friend;
For all this world hath of good or gain
To dwell therein am I no more fain,
Why should I again to this world fare?
Therein is naught but woe and care!
In sin and uncleanness my life I past,
Here many a joy to my lot is cast,
Here be both sheep and goats, I ween!"
The wolf was vexed by hunger keen,
'T was over-long since he last might eat,
And when he thus heard him speak of meat
Right fain was he then to share the food;
"Ah!" quoth the wolf: "my comrade good,
Many a meal hast thou ta'en from me,
Let me, I pray thee, come down to thee!
And all, I promise, shall be forgiven --"
"Yea," quoth the fox: "an thou first wert shriven,
If all thy sins thou would'st now forsake,
And thyself to a better life betake,
Then would I in such wise pray for thee
That thou shouldest come adown to me!"
The wolf he quoth: "An that be so
To whom may I for confession go?
Here in this place be none alive
Who in this stress my sins could shrive;
Oft hast thou been my comrade dear,
Wilt thou now my confession hear?
And all my life will I truly tell --"
"Nay," quoth the fox: "that were not well."
Quoth the wolf: "For mercy I pray once more,
For in sooth I be a-hungered sore,
I wot to-night am I dead indeed
Save thou find counsel in this my need!
For the love of Christ do thou be my priest!" --
The wolf, he bowed adown his breast,
In sob and sighing forth he brake --
"Wilt thou," quoth the fox: "confession make,
One by one thy misdeeds unfold
That never a sin remain untold?"
"Yea," quoth the wolf: "that shall be my will --
All my life-days have I done ill,
Upon me lieth the widow's curse,
Therefore, I ween, do I fare the worse.
A thousand sheep have I torn and bitten,
And more, if the tale thereof were written!
Thereof do I now repent me sore --
Say, Master, needs must I tell thee more?"
"Yea," quoth the fox: "all must thou say,
Otherwise must thou forfeit pay."
"Friend," quoth the wolf: "forgive it me,
Oft have I spoken ill of thee,
Men said of thee when thou wert on life
That thou hadst ill dealings with my wife;
One time to watch ye was I fain,
In bed together I found ye twain.
Often times was I nigh to ye,
How ye fared together I needs must see,
I deemed, as many another doth,
That what I saw with mine eyes was sooth,
Therefore to me thou wast full loath --
Dear Gossip, I prithee, be not wroth!"
"Wolf," the fox quoth to him alway:
"All thou hast done before this day,
Be it in word, or deed, or will,
In each and every kind of ill,
All I forgive thee at this need."
"Now," quoth the wolf: "may Christ thee speed,
Now at last am I clean in life,
Little I reck for child or wife,
But tell me now what I needs must do,
And how I may come thy bliss unto?"
"Do?" quoth the fox: "that shalt thou hear,
See'st thou a bucket hang anear?
There is the entrance to Paradise,
Leap thou therein, an thou be wise,
So shalt thou be with me anon --"
Quoth the wolf: "That is lightly done!"
He sprang therein, and his weight 'gan tell,
(Of that the fox had advised him well)
The wolf he sank, the fox he rose,
Sorrow and fear the wolf he knows,
When he came mid-way adown the pit
The fox on the upward way he met;
"Friend," quoth the wolf: "what dost thou now?
What hast thou in mind? Where goest thou?"
"Whither I go?" the fox he said,
"I will up! so God give me aid!
Go thou down to thy meed withal,
Methinks thine earnings shall be but small!
Therefore am I both glad and blithe
That thou be shriven and clean of life,
A fitting knell I'll bid them ring,
And Mass for thy soul I'll have them sing!"

. . . . . . . .

That wretch in the well he nothing found
Save water, by hunger he fast was bound,
At a banquet cold he needs must feed,
Frogs the dough for his bread must knead.
Down in the well the wolf, he stood,
Mad for hunger, I ween, his mood,
He cursed him roundly who brought him there,
The fox thereof had little care.
Nigh to a house it stood, the well,
Where many good Friars, I ween, did dwell,
And when it came that the night was done,
And the brethren must needs arise, each one,
To say their Mattins, and Morningsong,
One Friar was there, the rest among,
Who should them all from their sleep awake,
When they to the Chapel their way should take;
He bade them arise by one and one,
And come to the House-song, every one.
That same Friar he was hight Ailmer,
He was their Master-Cellarer,
It chanced he was gripped by thirst full strong
Ere yet they had finished their morningsong,
All alone to the well he went,
To quench his thirst was the brother bent;
He came to the well, and would water wind,
Heavy the weight he needs must find,
The friar he drew with all his might
Until that the wolf he hove in sight,
When he saw the wolf in the bucket sit,
He cried: "The Devil is in the pit!"
To the well the brethren hied each one
Well armed with pike, and staff, and stone,
Each with his weapon was not slack,
Woe worth him who a tool did lack!
They drew the wolf up e'en to the ground,
Many a foeman the wretch there found,
Fain would they chase the wolf that day,
Hunt him with hounds, and beat alway,
Fell and fiercely they smote him there,
Stung him with staves, and pierced with spear,
The fox betrayed him with guile, I wis,
For in sooth he found no kind of bliss,
Nor pardon for all he had done amiss!





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