196
MEDIÆVAL HYMNS.
Cock, he, more than other birds
Way through ether winging,
Heareth high above the clouds
Choirs Angelic singing;
Thus he warns us cast away
Evil word and doing,
Thoughts and joys of things above
Evermore ensuing.
On his head a royal crown,
Like a king, he beareth;
On his foot a shapely spur,
Like a knight, he weareth;
Waxeth golden more and more
As in age he groweth;
And the lion quakes with fear,
When by night he croweth.
Thus they spur the idle on,
On their warfare bowning,
Thus God marks His heritage,
By the tonsure crowning;
As they wax in age their crowns
Should but shine more glorious,
And the Lion-foe should quake
At their shout victorious.
