Page:Gesta Romanorum - Swan - Wright - 2.djvu/523

'O bitter change! for master now we see
A faitour villain carle of low degree;
Pool gluttony employs his livelong day,
Nor heeds nor hears he my melodious lay.'
So spake the bird; and, as he ceas'd to sing,
Indignantly he clapp'd his downy wing,
And straight was gone; but no abasement stirr'd
In the clown's breast at his reproachful word
Bent was his wit alone by quaint device
To snare and sell him for a passing price.
So well he wrought, so craftily he spread
In the thick foliage green his slender thread,
That when at eve the little songster sought
His wonted spray, his heedless foot was caught.
'How have I harm'd you? straight he 'gan to cry,
And wherefore would you do me thus to die?'—
'Nay, fear not,' quoth the clown, 'for death or wrong;
I only seek to profit by thy song;
I'll get thee a fine cage, nor shalt thou lack
Good store of kernels and of seeds to crack;
But sing thou shalt; for if thou play'st the mute,
I'll spit thee, bird, and pick thy bones to boot.'
'Ah, wo is me!' the little thrall replied,
'Who thinks of song, in prison doom'd to bide?