Fables: 9 The Preaching of the Swallow

The hie prudence and wirking mervelous,

The profound wit of God omnipotent

Is sa perfyte and sa ingenious,

Excellent far all mannis argument

For quhy to him all thing is ay present

Rycht as it is or ony tyme sall be

Befoir the sicht of his divinitie,

Thairfoir our saull with sensualitie

So fetterit is in presoun corporall,

We may not cleirlie understand nor se

God as he is, a thing celestiall.

Our mirk and deidlie corps materiale

Blindis the spirituall operatioun

Lyke as ane man wer bundin in presoun.

In Metaphisik Aristotell sayis

That mannis saull is lyke ane bakkis ee

Quhilk lurkis still als lang as licht of day is

And in the gloming cummis furth to fle.

Hir ene ar waik, the sone scho may not se.

Sa is our saull with fantasie opprest

To knaw the thingis in nature manifest.

For God is in his power infinite,

And mannis saull is febill and over small,

Of understanding waik and unperfite

To comprehend him that contenis all;

Nane suld presume be ressoun naturall

To seirche the secreitis of the Trinitie,

Bot trow fermelie and lat dirk ressounis be.

Yit nevertheles we may haif knawlegeing

Of God almychtie be his creatouris,

That he is gude, fair, wyis, and bening.

Exempill takis be thir jolie flouris

Rycht sweit of smell and plesant of colouris,

Sum grene, sum blew, sum purpour, quhyte, and reid,

Thus distribute be gift of his godheid.

The firmament payntit with sternis cleir

From eist to west rolland in cirkill round,

And everilk planet in his proper spheir,

In moving makand harmonie and sound,

The fyre, the air, the watter, and the ground:

Till understand it is aneuch iwis

That God in all his werkis wittie is.

Luke we the fische that swimmis in the se,

Luke we in eirth all kynd of bestyall,

The foulis fair sa forcelie thay fle,

Scheddand the air with pennis grit and small;

Syne luke to man that he maid last of all

Lyke to his image and his similitude;

Be thir we knaw that God is fair and gude.

All creature he maid for the behufe

Of man and to his supportatioun

Into this eirth, baith under and abufe,

In number, wecht, and dew proportioun,

The difference of tyme and ilk seasoun

Concorddand till our opurtunitie

As daylie be experience we may se.

The somer with his jolie mantill grene

With flouris fair furrit on everilk fent,

Quhilk Flora goddes of the flouris quene

Hes to that lord as for his seasoun lent

And Phebus with his goldin bemis gent

Hes purfellit and payntit plesandly

With heit and moysture stilland from the sky.

Syne harvest hait quhen Ceres that goddes

Hir barnis benit hes with abundance

And Bachus god of wyne renewit hes

Hir tume pyipis in Italie and France

With wynis wicht and liquour of plesance

And copia temporis to fill hir horne

That never wes full of quheit nor uther corne.

Syne wynter wan quhen austerne Eolus

God of the wynd with blastis boreall

The grene garment of somer glorious

Hes all to-rent and revin in pecis small.

Than flouris fair faidit with froist man fall,

And birdis blyith changit thair noitis sweit

In styll murning, neir slane with snaw and sleit.

Thir dalis deip with dubbis drounit is,

Baith hill and holt heillit with frostis hair

And bewis bene ar bethit bair of blis.

Be wickit windis of the winter wair,

All wyld beistis than from the bentis bair

Drawis for dreid unto thair dennis deip,

Coucheand for cauld in coifis thame to keip.

Syne cummis ver quhen winter is away,

The secretar of somer with his sell

Quhen columbie up keikis throw the clay

Quhilk fleit wes befoir with froistes fell.

The mavis and the merle beginnis to mell,

The lark on loft with uther birdis smale

Than drawis furth fra derne over doun and daill.

That samin seasoun into ane soft morning,

Rycht blyth that bitter blastis wer ago,

Unto the wod to se the flouris spring

And heir the mavis sing and birdis mo,

I passit furth, syne lukit to and fro

To se the soill that wes richt sessonabill,

Sappie, and to resave all seidis abill.

Moving thusgait, grit myrth I tuke in mynd

Of lauboraris to se the besines,

Sum makand dyke and sum the pleuch can wynd,

Sum sawand seidis fast frome place to place,

The harrowis hoppand in the saweris trace.

It wes grit joy to him that luifit corne

To se thame laubour baith at evin and morne,

And as I baid under ane bank full bene,

In hart gritlie rejosit of that sicht,

Unto ane hedge under ane hawthorne grene,

Of small birdis thair come ane ferlie flicht

And doun belyif can on the leifis licht

On everilk syde about me quhair I stude,

Rycht mervellous, ane mekill multitude.

Amang the quhilks ane swallow loud couth cry

On that hawthorne hie in the croip sittand,

“O ye birdis on bewis heir me by,

Ye sall weill knaw and wyislie understand

Quhair danger is or perrell appeirand

It is grit wisedome to provyde befoir

It to devoyd for dreid it hurt yow moir.”

“Schir swallow,” quod the lark agane and leuch,

“Quhat have ye sene that causis yow to dreid?”

“Se ye yone churll,” quod scho, “beyond yone pleuch

Fast sawand hemp, lo se, and linget seid,

Yone lint will grow in lytill tyme indeid

And thairof will yone churll his nettis mak

Under the quhilk he thinkis us to tak.

“Thairfoir I reid we pas quhen he is gone

At evin and with our naillis scharp and small

Out of the eirth scraip we yone seid anone

And eit it up for giff it growis we sall

Have cause to weip heirefter ane and all.

Se we remeid thairfoir furthwith instante,

Nam levius laedit quicquid praevidimus ante.

“For clerkis sayis it is nocht sufficient

To considder that is befoir thyne ee

Bot prudence is ane inwart argument

That garris ane man provyde befoir and see

Quhat gude, quhat evill, is liklie for to be

Of everilk thingis at the fynall end,

And swa fra perrell ethar him defend.”

The lark lauchand the swallow thus couth scorne

And said scho fischit lang befoir the net.

“The barne is eith to busk that is unborne.

All growis nocht that in the ground is set.

The nek to stoup quhen it the straik sall get

Is sone aneuch. Deith on the fayest fall.”

Thus scornit thay the swallow ane and all.

Despysing thus hir helthsum document,

The foulis ferslye tuke thair flicht anone,

Sum with ane bir thay braidit over the bent

And sum agane ar to the grene wod gone.

Upon the land quhair I wes left allone,

I tuke my club and hamewart couth I carie

Swa ferliand as I had sene ane farie.

Thus passit furth quhill June that jolie tyde

And seidis that wer sawin of beforne

Wer growin hie that hairis mycht thame hyde

And als the quailye craikand in the corne.

I movit furth betwix midday and morne

Unto the hedge under the hawthorne grene

Quhair I befoir the said birdis had sene,

And as I stude be aventure and cace

The samin birdis as I haif said yow air,

I hoip because it wes thair hanting place,

Mair of succour or yit mair solitair,

Thay lychtit doun and quhen thay lychtit wair,

The swallow swyth put furth ane pietuous pyme,

Said, “Wo is him can not bewar in tyme.

“O blind birdis and full of negligence,

Unmyndfull of your awin prosperitie,

Lift up your sicht and tak gude advertence,

Luke to the lint that growis on yone le.

Yone is the thing I bad forsuith that we,

Quhill it wes seid, suld rute furth off the eird.

Now is it lint, now is it hie on breird,

“Go yit quhill it is tender, young, and small,

And pull it up, let it na mair incres.

My flesche growis, my bodie quaikis all,

Thinkand on it I may not sleip in peis.”

Thay cryit all and bad the swallow ceis

And said, “yone lint heirefter will do gude,

For linget is to lytill birdis fude.

“We think quhen that yone lint bollis ar ryip

To mak us feist and fill us of the seid

Magré yone churll and on it sing and pyip.”

“Weill,” quod the swallow, “freindes, hardilie beid,

Do as ye will bot certane sair I dreid

Heirefter ye sall find als sour as sweit

Quhen ye ar speldit on yone carlis speit.

“The awner of yone lint ane fouler is,

Richt cautelous and full off subteltie.

His pray full sendill tymis will he mis

Bot gif we birdis all the warrer be.

Full mony of our kin he hes gart de

And thocht it bot ane sport to spill thair blude.

God keip me fra him, and the halie rude.”

Thir small birdis haveand bot lytill thocht

Of perrell that mycht fall be aventure,

The counsell of the swallow set at nocht

Bot tuke thair flicht and furth togidder fure,

Sum to the wode, sum markit to the mure.

I tuke my staff quhen this wes said and done

And walkit hame for it drew neir the none.

The lynt ryipit, the carll pullit the lyne,

Rippillit the bollis and in beitis set,

It steipit in the burne and dryit syne

And with ane bittill knokkit it and bet,

Syne swingillit it weill and hekkillit in the flet.

His wyfe it span and twynit it into threid

Of quhilk the fowlar nettis maid indeid.

The wynter come, the wickit wind can blaw,

The woddis grene wer wallowit with the weit,

Baith firth and fell with froistys wer maid faw,

Slonkis and slaik maid slidderie with the sleit.

The foulis fair for falt thay fell of feit.

On bewis bair it wes na bute to byde

Bot hyit unto housis thame to hyde.

Sum in the barn, sum in the stak of corne

Thair lugeing tuke and maid thair residence.

The fowlar saw and grit aithis hes he sworne

Thay suld be tane trewlie for thair expence.

His nettis hes he set with diligence

And in the snaw he schulit hes ane plane

And heillit it all over with calf agane.

Thir small birdis, seand the calff, wes glaid.

Trowand it had bene corne, thay lychtit doun

Bot of the nettis na presume thay had

Nor of the fowlaris fals intentioun.

To scraip and seik thair meit thay maid thame boun.

The swallow into a branche litill by,

Dreiddand for gyle, thus loud on thame couth cry:

“Into that calf scraip quhill your naillis bleid,

Thair is na corne, ye laubour all in vane,

Trow ye yone churll for pietie will yow feid?

Na, na, he hes it lyit heir for ane trane.

Remove, I reid, or ellis ye will be slane;

His nettis he hes set full prively,

Reddie to draw; in tyme be war forthy.

“Grit fule is he that puttis in dangeir

His lyfe, his honour, for ane thing of nocht.

Grit fule is he that will not glaidlie heir

Counsall in tyme quhill it availl him mocht.

Grit fule is he that nathing hes in thocht

Bot thing present and efter quhat may fall

Nor of the end hes na memoriall.”

Thir small birdis, for hunger famischit neir,

Full besie scraipand for to seik thair fude,

The counsall of the swallow wald not heir,

Suppois thair laubour dyd thame lytill gude.

Quhen scho thair fulische hartis understude

Sa indurate, up in ane tre scho flew.

With that, this churll over thame his nettis drew.

Allace it wes rycht grit hertis sair to se

That bludie bowcheour beit thay birdis doun

And for till heir quhen thay wist weill to de

Thair cairfull sang and lamentatioun.

Sum with ane staf he straik to eirth on swoun,

Sum off the heid, off sum he brak the crag,

Sum half on lyfe he stoppit in his bag.

And quhen the swallow saw that thay wer deid,

“Lo,” quod scho, “thus it happinnis mony syis

On thame that will not tak counsall nor reid

Of prudent men or clerkis that ar wyis.

This grit perrell I tauld thame mair than thryis.

Now ar thay deid, and wo is me thairfoir.”

Scho tuke hir flicht, bot I hir saw no moir.

Moralitas

Lo worthie folk, Esope that nobill clerk,

Ane poet worthie to be lawreate,

Quhen that he vaikit from mair autentik werk

With uther ma, this foirsaid fabill wrate

Quhilk at this tyme may weill be applicate

To gude morall edificatioun,

Haifand ane sentence according to ressoun.

This carll and bond of gentrice spoliate,

Sawand this calf thir small birdis to sla,

It is the feind quhilk fra the angelike state

Exylit is as fals apostata

Quhilk day and nycht weryis not for to ga

Sawand poysoun and mony wickit thocht

In mannis saull quhilk Christ full deir hes bocht.

And quhen the saull as seid into the eird

Gevis consent in delectatioun,

The wickit thocht beginnis for to breird

In deidlie sin quhilk is dampnatioun.

Ressoun is blindit with affectioun

And carnall lust growis full grene and gay

Throw consuetude hantit from day to day.

Proceding furth be use and consuetude,

The sin ryipis and schame is set on syde,

The feynd plettis his nettis stark and rude,

And under plesance previlie dois hyde,

Syne on the feild he sawis calf full wyde,

Quhilk is bot tume and verray vanitie

Of fleschlie lust and vaine prosperitie.

Thir hungrie birdis wretchis we may call

Ay scraipand in this warldis vane plesance,

Greddie to gadder gudis temporall,

Quhilk as the calf ar tume without substance,

Lytill of vaill and full of variance,

Lyke to the mow befoir the face of wind

Quhiskis away and makis wretchis blind.

This swallow quhilk eschaipit thus the snair

The halie preichour weill may signifie,

Exhortand folk to walk and ay bewair

Fra nettis of our wickit enemie

Quha sleipis not bot ever is reddie

Quhen wretchis in this warld calf dois scraip

To draw his net that thay may not eschaip.

Allace, quhat cair, quhat weiping is and wo,

Quhen saull and bodie partit ar in twane:

The bodie to the wormis keitching go;

The saull to fyre, to everlestand pane.

Quhat helpis than this calf, thir gudis vane,

Quhen thow art put in Luceferis bag

And brocht to hell and hangit be the crag?

Thir hid nettis for to persave and se,

This sarie calf wyislie to understand,

Best is bewar in maist prosperitie

For in this warld thair is na thing lestand.

Is na man wait how lang his stait will stand,

His lyfe will lest, nor how that he sall end

Efter his deith nor quhidder he sall wend.

Pray we thairfoir quhill we ar in this lyfe

For four thingis: the first, fra sin remufe,

The secund is to seis all weir and stryfe,

The thrid is perfite cheritie and lufe,

The feird thing is and maist for our behufe

That is in blis with angellis to be fallow,

And thus endis the Preiching of the Swallow.

Fables: 9 The Preaching of the Swallow

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