Upon a tree he was set, as he thought, Where Jupiter him wash’d, both back and side, And Phoebus eke a fair towél him brought To dry him with; and therefore wax’d his pride. And to his daughter that stood him beside, Which he knew in high science to abound, He bade her tell him what it signified; And she his dream began right thus expound.
“The tree,” quoth she, “the gallows is to mean, And Jupiter betokens snow and rain, And Phoebus, with his towel clear and clean, These be the sunnë’s streamës, sooth to sayn; Thou shalt y-hangeth be, father, certáin; Rain shall thee wash, and sunnë shall thee dry.” Thus warned him full plat and eke full plain His daughter, which that called was Phaníe.
And hanged was Croesus the proudë king; His royal thronë might him not avail. Tragédy is none other manner thing, Nor can in singing crien nor bewail, But for that Fortune all day will assail With unware stroke the regnës that be proud: For when men trustë her, then will she fail, And cover her bright facë with a cloud.
O noble, O worthy Pedro , glory of Spain , Whom Fortune held so high in majesty, Well oughtë men thy piteous death complain. Out of thy land thy brother made thee flee, And after, at a siege, by subtlety, Thou wert betray’d, and led unto his tent, Where as he with his owen hand slew thee, Succeeding in thy regne and in thy rent.
The field of snow, with th’ eagle of black therein, Caught with the lion, red-colour’d as the glede, He brew’d this cursedness, and all this sin; The wicked nest was worker of this deed; Not Charlës’ Oliver, that took aye heed Of truth and honour, but of Armorike Ganilion Oliver, corrupt for meed, Broughtë this worthy king in such a brike.
O worthy Petro , King of Cypre , also, That Alexandre won by high mast’ry, Full many a heathen wroughtest thou full woe, Of which thine owen lieges had envý; And, for no thing but for thy chivalry, They in thy