A poure widwe, somdel stope in age Was whylom dwelling in a narwe cotage, Bisyde a grove, standing in a dale. Her stable, her barn-yard are described; we hear the lowing of the cows and the crowing of the cock; the tone rises little by little, and we get to the mock-heroic style. Chauntecleer the cock, In al the land of crowing nas his peer. His vois was merier than the mery orgon On messe-days that in the chirche gon; Wel sikerer was his crowing in his logge Than is a clokke, or an abbey orlogge.... His comb was redder than the fyn coral, And batailed, as it were a castel-wal! He had a black beak, white "nayles," and azure legs; he reigned unrivalled over the hens in the barn-yard. One of the hens was his favourite, the others filled subalternate parts. One day-- This storie is al-so trewe, I undertake As is the book of Launcelot de Lake, That wommen holde in ful gret reverence, --he was looking for "a boterflye," and what should he see but a fox! "Cok, cok!" he cries, with a jump, and means to flee. "Gentil sire, allas! wher wol ye gon? Be ye affrayed of me that am your freend?" says the good fox; I came only to hear you sing; you have the family talent: My lord your fader (God his soule blesse!), sang so well; but you sing better still. To sing better still, the cock shuts his eye, and the fox bears him off. Most painful adventure! It was a Friday: such things always befall on Fridays. O Gaufred, dere mayster soverayn, That whan the worthy King Richard was slayn With shot, compleynedest his deth so sore, Why ne had I now thy sentence and thy lore, The Friday for to chide, as diden ye?[538] Great commotion in the barn-yard; and here we find a picture charming for its liveliness: "Out! harrow! and weyl-away! Ha, ha, the fox!" every one shrieks, yells, runs; the dogs bark, Ran cow and calf, and eek the verray hogges; the ducks scream, The gees for fere flowen over the trees, and the bees come out of their hives. The prisoner is set free; he will be more prudent another time; order reigns once more in the domains of Chauntecleer. Side by side with such tales of animals, we have elegant stories of the Round Table, borrowed from the lays of "thise olde gentil Britons," and which carry us back to a time when, In tholde dayes of the King Arthour Of which that Britons speken greet honour, Al was this land fulfild of fayerye; The elf-queen, with hir joly companye, Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede;