Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE SEVEN SAGES OF ROME: 2, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE SEVEN SAGES OF ROME: 2, by                    
First Line: The emperor rose at dawn of day / and bade them bring his son straightway
Last Line: "his son he back to prison sent, / upon his way the master went"
Subject(s): Animals;dogs


Tale II

THE Emperor rose at dawn of day
And bade them bring his son straightway,
And hang the lad, ere it was long,
Upon a gallows high and strong.
The knights and townsfolk, high and low,
Much pity for the boy they show
That he should thus to death be dight,
And all of wrong, with naught of right.
A-horse came Master Bausillas,
Who the lad's master soothly was,
His pupil sore bestead must see,
Heavy at heart, I trow, was he.
To gallows-tree the lad must fare,
The Master rode in grief and care;
Unto the palace-gate he came,
His horse he leaveth at that same,
Fast doth he hie him to the hall --
The Emperor sits 'mid courtiers all --
Greeting he gave, the Master good;
The monarch spake, in mournful mood:
"To evil end may'st thou be brought
Who thus my son hast evil taught!"
Quoth Master Bausillas straightway:
"Why are ye vexed Sire? Tell me pray,
Ye who of old were meek and mild
Now wrongfully would slay your child!"
The Emperor, without more ado,
Quoth: "Flatterer, I'll slay thee too!
My son I gave unto thy care
To learn his book, in fashion fair,
Ill customs have ye taught him here,
For such ye sure shall pay full dear.
My son is reft of speech withal --
The Devil take ye, each and all!
With that he fain had forced my wife --
Therefore shall no man save his life;
But sure to death I'll have them done
Who should have better taught my son!"
"Nay, Sire," quoth Master Bausillas:
"That were great wrong, saving your grace,
Say that your son had vexed your wife
Were that a cause to take his life?"
Quoth he: "I found my wife forlorn,
Her face and raiment rent and torn,
If one be ta'en in act and deed
Of other witness is small need."
The Master quoth: "Sire, have a care,
Trow not a step-dame's tale tho' fair,
Her bolt is all too swiftly shot,
Rather for ill than good, I wot!
If thou for her shalt slay thy son
Such payment may'st thou well have won
As fell unto that knight so true
Who once his faithful greyhound slew."
To hear that tale the Emperor prayed --
Straightway the Master answer made:
"Sire, while that I may tell my tale
Thy son may suffer mickle bale,
Thus were my travail all for naught --
I pray that he be hither brought,
Give him respite, and, without fail,
I'll tell to ye a wondrous tale."
The Emperor quoth: "I grant the boon."
A sergeant went his way right soon,
And brought the lad into the hall
Before his sire, and courtiers all;
Obeisance fitting doth he make
To all, yet never word he spake.
The Emperor quoth: "Now this thy tale
Set forth, Bausillas, without fail."

He quoth: "Sire, in this same citie,
Upon a Feast of Trinitie,
A tournament men fain would hold
For many a noble knight, and bold,
On meadow green, with knightly play --
And it befell on that same day
The knight I speak of, at that stound,
At home had left his good greyhound.
His manor by that meadow stood
Encircled by the river's flood,
And very ancient was each wall
By hole and cranny pierced withal.
The knight had wed a lady fair,
A goodly child she to him bare;
Cherished he was by nurses three,
One gave him suck, it seemeth me;
One washed and bathed him as 't was need,
Bedded, and dressed in goodly weed;
The third she washed his sheets full oft,
And rocked the babe to slumber soft.
The dog, of whom but now I told,
A right good hound it was, and bold,
Therewith had he been trained so well
For naught that knight his dog would sell.
The knight then, armed in fitting weed,
Full soon had leapt upon his steed,
With shield on arm, and shaft in hand,
To joust with knights of that same land,
Full soon unto the field he came --
His gentle lady, at that same,
Beheld him from the turret stair,
Full fain to see the tourney fair.
The nurses said they too would go
And look upon the knightly show,
The three they gat forth from the hall --
Setting the cradle 'neath a wall
Wherein the child fast sleeping lay,
The three they went to see the play
E'en from a secret place beside. --
Now hearken what befell that tide. --
An adder lurked within that wall,
It heard the sound of hoof-beats fall,
And creeping forth the cause to know
Beheld the child who lay below.
Down to the ground it made its way,
Intent, the child forthwith to slay.
The greyhound wandering thereabout
Saw where the snake crept stealthy out,
The adder did he swift assail,
Taking it tightly by the tail,
But soon the adder bit him sore
So that he dare keep hold no more.
Loosed from his jaws, the adder crept
To where the babe in cradle slept,
Full fain was he the child to sting --
Once more the hound did on him spring,
Amid the back he held him tight,
Shook him on high with all his might,
Betwixt the adder and the hound
The cradle fell unto the ground,
They over-turned it in the fray
So that the child face downward lay;
The four posts held it o'er the child,
Unharmed was he, and undefiled.
The adder bit the greyhound there
On side, on back, yea, everywhere;
The adder bleeds, e'en so the hound,
Fierce was the fight they fought that stound!
At last the dog the snake doth kill,
Tare him to pieces at his will;
When they had done, then all around
With blood was dyed and stained the ground.

"The tournament to end is brought,
The knights, I trow, they stay for naught,
Each takes his harness as he may
And swiftly goes the homeward way.
The nurses to the hall they go,
Great was their grief, and great their woe;
The cradle with the child they found
O'erturned, it stood upon the ground;
They deemed the child were dead, i' fay,
Therefore they looked not where it lay,
But all about they saw the blood --
Such was their woe they waxed nigh wood!
Great sorrow had they in their heart --
The greyhound howled for bitter smart,
They deemed he had waxed wood and wild,
And, in his madness, slain the child.
The lady oft in swoon did fall
There, 'mid her maidens in the hall:
'Alas,' she said, 'that I was born
Now my fair child from me is torn!'
The knight came home at that same tide
And all his men were at his side,
He saw them sorrow evermore,
For the child's sake they wept full sore.
The knight he asked what ailed them there?
The tale they swift to him declare,
The lady said: 'Sir, this your hound
Our child hath eaten on this ground,
Save that thou here shalt take his life
I'll slay myself with this, my knife.'
The knight, he went without delay;
The good dog met him on the way,
To fawn upon his lord was fain
Barking the while, for very pain,
To run about he might not cease,
The venom gave him little peace.
With wagging tail fawned on his lord --
The knight in haste drew forth his sword,
Upon the back-bone smote the hound,
Clave him asunder to the ground.
The greyhound good, he lieth dead --
The knight unto the cradle sped,
Wherein the infant peaceful slept
The while the women sorely wept.
The knight, he found the adder dead,
And torn to pieces in that stead,
With blood of snake, and blood of hound,
Stained were the cradle and the ground.
The cradle turned, the child they see
Alive, and marvel mightily --
They saw the hound, the snake had slain --
The knight, he sorroweth amain,
His grief, I trow, was grim and great:
'Sorrow,' he quoth, 'shall be his mate
Right certainly, and without fail,
Who hearkeneth to a woman's tale!
Alas!' he quoth 'for so did I!'
With that he mourned, and made great cry,
He called his household less and more,
And showed to them his sorrow sore,
How that his child was hale and sound,
But he had slain his faithful hound
All for his valour, and good deed,
In that he trowed his lady's rede.
'Alas,' he quoth, 'in slaying thee
Myself must rue it bitterly,
Good knights and true I'll teach each one
The counsel of their wives to shun,
He sat him down in dole so drear,
And bade a groom take off his gear,
His garments gay aside did throw,
And barefoot all, he forth would go.
He took no leave of wife nor child
But gat him to the woodland wild,
In forest far from men would be
That no man might his sorrow see,
And suffered many a sorry stound
For grief of this, his good greyhound.
Thus, thro' the counsel of his wife,
In woe henceforth he passed his life.
Sir Emperor, so may ye share
Sorrow and shame, dishonour bear,
If ye should slay, against all right,
Your son, as did his hound the knight,
O'er hasty he, of ruthless deed,
And of his wife he wrought the rede."

The Emperor sware: "By Jesu free,
Such fortune ne'er shall fall to me,
And Master, here I soothly say
My son, he shall not die to-day!"
"Yea Sire," quoth Master Bausillas:
Follow my counsel in this case,
For all the world shall him despise
Who trusts his wife, nor heeds the wise."
The Emperor quoth: "Ye rightly say,
I will not do what she doth pray."
His son he back to prison sent,
Upon his way the Master went.





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