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[No one should keep it to himself or be silent,
If he knows something that will please,
But should declare it openly;
For he hides and loses his knowledge
Who does not declare it openly,
In the presence of people
Wherefore I will not hide my knowledge
That all the wicked may come to naught:
And that those who would fain hear me
May be able to learn knowledge and what is good.
For knowledge hidden and unheard
Is just like, in my opinion,
Many treasures that are shut up,
Which do good or advantage to no one;
Just as they are when thus enclosed,
So is it with concealed knowledge;
Wherefore I will not conceal mine.
Thus it pleases me to recount
According to my knowledge and memory
The event of an ancient story.
That happened once in Apulia
To a king who ruled the land.
The king was named Embrons;
Very exceeding great was his power;
He governed well his country in peace,
And was of exceeding great renown.
He had to wife a beauteous queen,
A gracious dame of noble origin;
And who was daughter to a rich emperor,
Who ruled the dominion of Greece.
Felice was the lady's name:
She was much loved in her kingdom.
They had but one only child,
A little lad, not very tall.
The prince was four years old,
And was marvellously fair.
William was the child's name,
But the queen very specially(?)
Has entrusted him to two ladies
Whom she brought from her own country.
One is named Gloriande.
The other was called Acelone.
To these she entrusts him, to keep him,
To teach and instruct him,
To shew and instruct him the law,
As one ought to teach a king's son.
In them she confided,
But was betrayed and defrauded
And deceived shamefully;
You shall very soon hear how.
King Embrons had one brother,
To whom the kingdom would fall;
And he bribed and promised so much,
And so contrived and managed
With the guardians who kept the child,
That they have told him they would kill it.
And the king himself at the same time.
They have already provided the poison
From which they will both receive death,
If God, king of the world, permits it.
In Palermo they have dwelt,
A whole month in the city,
With the king and the queen.
Beneath the chief marble tower
Was an orchard wondrously fair,
All enclosed with walls and mortar;
There was many a wild beast there.
One day, on a high festival,
The king came there to divert himself.
His chevaliers and his burgesses;
And many a baron had come there,
The queen herself was there.
Those who have the child in charge,
(Whom evil flame and evil fire burn!)
Have brought him along with the rest;
But they would have done nothing of the kind,
Had they but known the sorrow
That happened that day because of the child.
In the orchard the king shades himselt.
And the queen, with very great joy.
But they know not how their great grief
Is present to them, before their eyes.
The child goes gathering flowers.
And playing from one to the other.
Just then they look at the bushes,
A huge wolf, with mouth open, leaps in,
Comes in at the opening like a tempest;
All turn aside to avoid the beast;
Before the king, noiselessly,
He takes his son across his mouth,
And then makes off; but the cry
Was very soon raised after him.
The plaint arises, the cry arises
Of the son of the king that is borne away.
The queen oftentimes exclaims,
“Aid me, aid me, Holy Mary!
Ye household of the king, what do ye?
Now I shall die if he be not rescued!”
The king calls for his horses,
And makes all his vassals mount.
All the town is in commotion,
Every one runs as quickly as he can.
The king follows the wolf on the spur,
Watches him, encircling (him) around.
But the wolf had leapt far away,
And betaken himself to the plain;
The child oft cries out and wails;
The king, who goes after him, hears him.
He looks and sees him mount a hill,
Summons his men to come quickly.
Then all hasten on very fast,
The wolf flees away with the child.
The wolf flees away, and they after him,
Who are very desirous of reaching him.
Unto the Far [Straits of Messina] they chase him,
He leaps into the water with the child.
He crosses the Far, they have lost him,
The king and they who are with him;
Thus in such a manner, flees away
The wild beast with the child.
The king returns back,
Very sorrowful and sad at heart,
For his child whom he has st;
To the city have all returned.
The queen makes such a mourning,
She would fain be dead, had she her will;
She weeps often, and cries and wails,
And demands back her child from the beast.
“Son, sweet love,” saith the queen,
“Tender mouth, rosy colour,
Thing divine and spiritual,
Who could believe that beast or wolf
Could devour you? O God! what fortune!
Alas! wherefore live I or last so long?
Son, where are now thy beautiful eyes,
So beautiful, so innocent, without pride?
Thy fair forehead, and thy lovely hair,
Which seemed all made of fine gold?
Thy tender face, and thy clear looks?
Oh heart! wherefore hast thou not left me?
What is become of thy beauty,
Thy sweet body, and thy fairness?
Thy nose, thy mouth, and thy chin,
And thy form and fashion,
And thy fair arm, and thy white hands,
Thy fair reins and thy thighs,
Thy fair legs, and thy feet;
Alas! what sorrow and what fault!
Thou oughtest only to have been made
For pleasures and for desires!
Now art thou food for the werwolf,
My child! what a mischance!
But I cannot believe, on any account,
A wild beast would be so daring
As to hurt thy tender body,
To wound it, make it bleed, or tear it:
I cannot believe that it would please our Lord God,
Or that He would do such cruelty to it.”
Thus the lady is in despair,
Thus she laments for her son,
Thus she weeps, thus she complains for him.
But the king so corrects and restrains her,
That he makes her altogether leave off
The grlef which she was continuing and making;
Thus the lady becomes tranquilized.
But now it is right for me to tell you
About the wolf that fled with the child;
So far he carries it both day and night,
And traverses so much ground,
That in the country near Rome,
In a great forest, he stops;
Where was many a wild beast.
There he rests for eight whole days;
Whatever the child had need of,
The noble beast provided for it,
So that it had discomfort in nothing.
In the ground he has made a trench,
And in it placed and put grass,
And also fern and herbs(?)
Which within it he has spread.
At night, he lies down near him;
The werwolf embraces the king's son
With his four feet.
And so familiar with him
Is the king's son, that all pleases him,
Whatever the beast does for him;]

þat it apertly was apayed for profite þat he feld,
& [wrouȝt] buxumly by þe bestes wille in wise as it couþe.