The Minor Poems of John Lydgate :: :: University of Virginia Library

Prayer of princes is a commaundement,
The poure obayethe, they dare none othar do,
Presept of tyrantes is so vyolent,
Who-evar sey nay, nede it muste be so,
Hove they ther lust, they care for no mo;
The wolffe made holle, of very froward pryde,
Sofferyd the crane rewardles to abyde.

118

The crane was chese to be a surg[i]on,
To save the wolffe, as ye have hard beforne,
Toke out the bone, whiche no man migh[t]e sene,
Whiche thynge accomplyshyd, his labour he had lorne,
The wolffe made hym blow the bokk[e]s horne,—
As it fallythe at preffe, offt[e] sithe,
Fayr behestes makythe foles ofte-tyme blythe.

119

Isophus, the famous olde poyete,
This fable wrote for a memoryalle,

595

The accorde wher-of wnlykely & wn-mete
Atwen tyrauntes & folke that bene rurall,
The poure hathe lytell, the extorssionar hathe all,
His body, his lyffe, the laborar enpartythe,
The riche hathe all, & no-thynge he departythe.

120

The morallyte of this tale out sowght,
The crane is lyke the folke, that for drede
Travayll for tyrantes, & reseve nowght
Bwt fowll rebukes for [a] ffynalle mede;
Thus connselynge, yow that this talle dothe rede,
Whill that yowr hond is in the wolffes mowthe,
Remembre that with tyrauntes merci ys wncothe.

121

To pley withe tyraunts I holde it is no iape,
To oppres the poure they have no concience,
Fly frome daunger, yf ye may askape,
Thynke on the crane that dyd his delygence
To helpe the wolfe, but he do recompence,
His kyndenes maneshed hym, as I fynde,
This tall applyinge a-gayn folke that be wn-kynde.

finis