The Tale

“Traitor,” quoth he, “with tongue of scorpión, Thou hast me brought to my confusión; Alas that I was wrought! why n’ere I dead? O dearë wife, O gem of lustihead, That wert to me so sad, and eke so true, Now liest thou dead, with facë pale of hue, Full guiltëless, that durst I swear y-wis! O rakel hand, to do so foul amiss! O troubled wit, O irë reckëless, That unadvised smit’st the guiltëless! O wantrust, full of false suspición! Where was thy wit and thy discretión? O! every man beware of rakelness, Nor trow no thing withoutë strong witnéss. Smite not too soon, ere that ye weetë why, And be advised well and sickerly Ere ye do any executión Upon your irë for suspición. Alas! a thousand folk hath rakel ire Foully fordone, and brought them in the mire. Alas! for sorrow I will myselfë slé.” And to the crow, “O falsë thief,” said he, “I will thee quite anon thy falsë tale. Thou sung whilom like any nightingale, Now shalt thou, falsë thief, thy song foregon, And eke thy whitë feathers every one, Nor ever in all thy lifë shalt thou speak; Thus shall men on a traitor be awreak. Thou and thine offspring ever shall be blake, Nor ever sweetë noisë shall ye make, But ever cry against tempést and rain, In token that through thee my wife is slain.” And to the crow he start, and that anon, And pull’d his whitë feathers every one, And made him black, and reft him all his song, And eke his speech, and out at door him flung Unto the devil, which I him betake; And for this causë be all crowës blake. Lordings, by this ensample, I you pray, Beware, and takë keep what that ye say; Nor tellë never man in all your life How that another man hath dight his wife; He will you hatë mortally certáin. Dan Solomon, as wisë clerkës sayn, Teacheth a man to keep his tonguë well; But, as I said, I am not textuel. But natheless thus taughtë me my dame; “My son, think on the crow, in Goddë’s name. My son, keep well thy tongue, and keep thy friend; A wicked tongue is worse than is a fiend: My sonë, from a fiend men may them bless. My son, God of his endëless goodnéss Wallëd a tongue with teeth, and lippës eke, For man should him advisë, what he speak. My son,