JOHN.

Now, Esculapius defend thy bird! The Romans believed that the lion himself would strike his colors at the crowing of a cock, a piece of natural history to which the national emblems of England and France have figuratively given the lie. But cunning is often more serviceable than bravery, and Sir Russel the fox may achieve by diplomacy the victory to which the lion was not equal.

PHILIP.

We shall see. Diplomatists are like the two Yankees who swapped jackknives together till each had cleared five dollars. Such a Sir Philip Sidney among cocks, at least, could not fall without a burst of melodious tears from every civilized barn-yard. The poet, after lamenting that Sir Chaunticlere had not heeded better the boding of his dream, warns us of the danger of woman's counsel, from Eve's time downward; but takes care to add,

“These speeches are the cock's, and none of mine ;
For I no harm of woman can divine."

He then returns to his main argument; and no one, who has not had poultry for bosom-friends from childhood, can appreciate the accurate grace and pastoral humor of his descriptions. The fox, meanwhile, has crept into the yard and hidden himself.

"Fair in the sand, to bathe her merrily,
Lies Partelote, and all her sisters by,
Against the sun, and Chaunticlere so free
Sang merrier than the mermaid in the sea
(For Physiologus saith certainly

How that they sing both well and merrily),
And so befell, that, as he cast his eye
Among the worts upon a butterfly,

'Ware was he of the fox that lay full low;
Nothing it lists him now to strut or crow,
But cries anon, cuk! cuk! and up doth start,
As one that is affrayèd in his heart."

The knight would have fled, as there are examples enough in Froissart to prove it would not have disgraced his spurs to do, considering the greatness of the odds against him, but the fox plies him with courteous flattery. He appeals to Sir Chaunticlere's pride of birth, pretends to have a taste in music, and is desirous of hearing him sing, hoping all the while to put his tuneful throat to quite other uses. A more bitter fate than that of Orpheus seems to be in store for our feathered son of Apollo; since his spirit, instead of hastening to join that of his Eurydice, must rake for corn in Elysian fields, with the bitter thought, that not one but seven Eurydices are cackling for him "superis in auris." The fox

“Says, ' Gentle Sir, alas! what will you do?

Are you afraid of him that is your friend?
Now certes, I were worse than any fiend,
If I to you wished harm or villany;
I am not come your counsel to espy,

But truly all that me did hither bring
Was only for to hearken how you sing,
For, on my word, your voice is merrier even
Than any angel hath that is in heaven,
And you beside a truer feeling show, Sir,
Than did Boece, or any great composer;
My Lord, your father (God his spirit bless!
And eke your mother, for her gentleness)
Have honored my poor house to my great ease,
And, certes, Sir, full fain would I you please.
But, since men talk of singing, I will say
(Else may I lose my eyes this very day),
Save you, I never heard a mortal sing
As did your father at the day-breaking;
Certes, it was with all his heart he sung,
And, for to make his voice more full and strong,
He would so pain him, that with either eye,
He needs must wink, so loud he strove to cry,

And stand upon his tiptoes therewithal,

And stretch his comely neck forth long and small.
Discretion, too, in him went hand in hand

With music, and no man in any land

In wisdom or in song did him surpass.'"

JOHN.

I thought Chaucer's portrait of the son perfect, till Sir Russel hung up his of the father beside it. Why, Vandyke himself would look chalky beside such flesh and blood as this. Such a cock, one would think, might have served a score of Israelites for a sacrifice at their feast of atonement, or have been a sufficient thank-offering to the gods for twenty Spartan victories. Stripped of his feathers,

Plato would have taken him for something more than human. It must have been such a one as this that the Stoics esteemed it as bad as parricide to slay.*

The fox continues,

PHILIP.

"Let's see, can you your father counterfeit?'
This Chaunticlere his wings began to beat,
As one that could not his foul treason spy,
So was he ravished by his flattery.

Sir Chaunticlere stood high upon his toes,
Stretched forth his neck and held his eyes shut ciose,
And 'gan to crow full loudly for the nonce,
When Dan Russel, the fox, sprang up at once,
And by the gorget seized Sir Chaunticlere,
And on his back toward the wood him bare."

Forthwith the seven wives begin a sorrowful ululation; Dame Partelote, in her capacity as favorite, shrieking more sovereignly than the rest. Another Andromache, she sees her Hector dragged barbarously from the walls of his native Ilium, whose defence and prop he had ever been. Then follows a picture which surpasses even Hogarth.

"The luckless widow and her daughters two,
Hearing the hens cry out and make their woe,
Out at the door together rushed anon,

And saw how toward the wood the fox is gone,

*

Cicero, Orat. pro L. Murænâ, § XXIX.

Bearing upon his back the cock away;
They cried, 'Out, out, alas! and welaway!
Aha, the fox!' and after him they ran,

And, snatching up their staves, ran many a man ;
Ran Col the dog, ran Talbot and Gerland,
And Malkin, with her distaff in her hand;
Ran cow and calf, and even the very hogs,
So frighted with the barking of the dogs,
And shouting of the men and women eke,

Ran till they thought their very hearts would break,
And yelled as never fiends in hell have done;

The ducks screamed, thinking that their sand was run;
The geese, for fear, flew cackling o'er the trees;
Out of their hive buzzed forth a swarm of bees;
So hideous was the noise, ah, benedicite!
Certes, not Jack Straw and his varleboy
Raised ever any outcry half so shrill,
When they some Fleming were about to kill,
As that same day was made about the fox:

Vessels of brass they brought forth and of box,

And horns and bones, on which they banged and blew; It seemed the very sky would split in two.

The cock who lay upon the fox's back,
In all his dread unto his captor spake,

And said; Most noble Sir, if I were you,

I would (as surely as God's help I sue)
Cry, Turn again, ye haughty villains all!
A very pestilence upon you fall!

Now I am come unto the forest's side,

Maugre your heads, the cock shall here abide ;

I will him eat, i' faith, and that anon.'

Answered the fox, 'Good sooth, it shall be done!'
And, as he spake the word, all suddenly,
The cock broke from his jaws deliverly,