Whate’r they thinke, yet gossip, they shall know,
That we were made for something else then show.
Few things shall passe that now in working are,
But you and I therein will have a share: 710
They say, the Robin, roosteth in my nest,
Gossip, ‘t is true: to you it is confest,
My cock’s a slug, and doth me little ease:
He must be quicke, his female that will please.
And of all birds although I be the east, 715
Yet few with me in number have increast,
I thanke my friend; but let this secret lurke,
And by my Robin, you and I must worke:
For when the Eagle shapes him for above,
As oft he useth to conferre with Jove, 720
To have his pineons, in sound perfect plight,
When they should fit him for so long a flight,
He oyles his feathers, and with wondrous skill,
From the short’st flag, (even) to the longest quill,
Sees that each one be in due order set: 725
When as my fine and nimble Robinet
(Whilst each one seemes as busie as a bee,
T’attyre their soveraigne, and none more then hee,)
Watcheth his time, and aptly when he finds,
That the small birds, according to their kinds, 730
Shrinke, when the Eagle doubled strength assumes:
As he stands proudly rowzing up his plumes,
Nor never dreames what treacherie intends,
Up by his trayne, the craftie bird ascends,
And in the deepe downe closely doth him hide: 735
For the great Eagle, betwixt strength and pride,
His poore small bodie not so much as feeles;
And thus this bird the King himselfe beguiles,
And in this sort transported to the spheares,
His soveraignes counsailes, and Joves secrets heares.
And when the wearyed Eagle can no more, 741
Fresh from his backe he into heaven doth sore;
And comming thence, doth all to me relate,
And by this meanes we two will rule the state.
King, looke to these, that they doe not o’r-heare thee,
This craftie bird I doubt is but too neere there. 746
And thus even cloy’d with businesse of the court,
To neighbour groves inviting my resort,
Where I suppos’d the solitarie Owle
Might live secure, unseene of any fowle; 750
Loe, in a valley peopled thicke with trees,
Where the soft day continuall evening sees,
Where in the moyst and melancholy shade,
The grasse growes ranke, but yeelds a bitter blade,
I found a poore Crane sitting all alone, 755
That from his brest sent many a throbbing grone;
Groveling he lay, that sometime stood upright;
Maim’d of his joynts in many a doubtfull fight:
His ashie coate that bore a glosse so faire,
So often kiss’d of the enamoured ayre; 760
Worne all to rags, and fretted so with rust,
That with his feet he trod it in the dust:
And wanting strength to beare him to the springs,
The spiders wove their webs even in this wings:
And in his traine their filmie netting cast, 765
He eat not wormes, wormes eat on him so fast.
His wakefull eyes, that in his foes despight,
Had watch’d the walls in many a winters night,
And never wink’d, nor from their object fled,
When heavens dread thunder rattled o’r his head 770
Now covered over with dimme cloudie kels,
And shrunken up into their slimy shels.
Poore bird that striving to bemone thy plight,
I cannot doe thy miseries their right,
Perceiving well he found me where I stood, 775
And he alone thus poorely in the wood:
To him I stept, desiring him to show
The cause of his calamitie and woe.
Nights-Bird (quoth he) what mak’st thou in this place,
To view my wretched miserable case? 780
Ill orators are aged men at armes,
That wont to wreake, and not bewaile their harmes:
And repetition where there wants reliefe,
In less’ning sorrow, but redoubleth griefe,
Seven sundrie battailes serv’d I in the field, 785
Against the Pigmies, in whose battered shield,
My prowesse stands apparantly exprest;
Besides the skars upon my manly brest:
Along the mid-land coasts my troupes I led,
And Afrikes pride with feare astonished; 790
And maym’d I was of this decrepit wing,
When as the fowle from the Propontike spring,
Fild all th’Egean with their stemming ores,
And made the lies even tremble from the shores.
I saw when from the Adriatike seas; 795
The crosse-adoring fowles to Europ’s praise,
Before Lepanto, and Morsea fought,
Where heaven by wind, earths wonder strangely wrought,
Wearie at length, and trusting to my worth,
I tooke my flight into the happie north:
Where nobly bred, as I was well ally’d,
I hop’d to have my fortune there supply’d:
But there arriv’d, disgrace was all my gaine,
Experience scorn’d of every scurvie swaine.
Other had got, for which I long did serve. 805
Still fed with words, whilst I with wants did starve.
Having small meanes, but yet a mightie heart,
How ere in fame, not honor’d for desert,
That small I had, I forced was to gage,
To cure my wounds, and to sustaine mine age; 810
Whilst those that scarce did ere behold a foe,
Exult and triumph in my over-throw.
And seeing in vaine with miserie I strove,
Retyr’d me to this solitarie grove;
Where in despaire (even lothing of my breath) 815
I long to dwell in the cold armes of death.
Heere sanke downe in a swound and could no more,
And I returne from whence I came before.
Where by the way the countrie Rooke deplor’d,
The grip and hunger of his ravenous lord. 820
The cruell Castrell, which with devillish clawes
Scratcheth out of the miserable jawes
Of the poore tenant, to his ruine bent,
Raising new fines, redoubling ancient rent,
And by th’inclosure of old common land, 825
Rackes the deare sweat from his laborious hand,
Whilst he that digs for breath out of the stones,
Cracks his stiffe sinewes, and consumes his bones;
Yet forc’d to reape continually with strife,
Snarling contention feeding on his life. 830
Yet hoping fortune bett’red by his heires,
They are content to part with what is theirs;
Lab’ring to keepe him in his quiet state,
When envie doth his gath’red mannors threat:
And being favoured of some higher peere, 835
By whom their land-lord keepes them still in feare,
They by their clownish industrie and art,
Soone to the court reduce him from the cart,
With their provision and defray his charge,
Whilst with his graine he ballasts many a barge, 840
And so his gripple avarice he serve,
What recks this ranke hind, if his countrie starve?
‘Hell on the wealth that’s purchased with shame,
Gold in the trunke, and in the grave defame:
Yet his clawes blunt, and when he can no more, 845
> The needie Rooke is turn’d out of the doore:
And lastly doth his wretchednesse bewayle,
A bond-slave to the miserable jayle.
Thus wearied with the sight of worldly crimes,
The wane of kingdomes, and the change of times; 850
I tooke my selfe, by searching to espy,
What sinnes in secret did in cities lye:
For there I deem’d, where law had chiefest force,
Strongly to limit every lewder course,
Things turn’d to nature, and disdain’d excesse, 855
That plaguie foe to humane happinesse.
And as I went (with busie search about)
Casting by cunning how to finde them out,
I found the Fesant that the Hawke doth feare,
Seeking for safetie bred his ayry there; 860
Yet is accus’d through close informing hate,
By lawlesse lending to offend the state.
Who being rich, and loving coyne and ease,
Still buildeth low, for feare he should displease.
Yet the Bald-Buzzard being pointed judge, 865
To this base, muddie, miserable drudge:
A paire of young ones taketh from his nest,
And leaves this fearefull recreant the rest,
Who gives him thankes his goodnesse would so doe,
That might take th’ayrie, and the old one too. 870
He lived best, that most liv’d out of sight:
I dare not say, the birds were all upright;
For some had golden beakes, but brazen clawes,
That held the guildes to minister their lawes:
The Castrell, for possession of his heire, 875
Is by the Ring-tayle offred wondrous faire,
To have a match betwixt their goodly breed,
T’increase their lands, and raise their happy seed.
But the coy Castrell turnes it to a mocke,
And scornes to match in his ignoble stocke, 880
For which the Ring-tayle by a secret plot,
Subornes the Starling, which hath closely got,
To be the broker, slily to seduce
The Castrels heire, by giving thriftlesse use,
And in strong statutes to inthrall him so, 885
To lime him sure which way so e’r he goe.
For this young fowle (drawne from his fathers eye)
Will with the fond world swimme in vanitie,
The subtill Ring-tayle never thus doth leave,
Till he the Castrell cunningly deceive, 890
And catch his young one in the cities snare,
So gets his mannors e’r he be aware.
‘Mongst which the Daw (by giving of a bribe)
Became a clerke amongst the learned tribe;
That being a bankrout, a dishonest detter, 895
Can get his living onely by the letter,
Whilst arts goe beg, and in a servile weed,
Are made the slaves to penurie and need.
The Goose exiled, humbly doth appeale
To all the birds, professing faith and zeale, 900
And though he proveth by the Romane booke,
What care to keepe the Capitoll he tooke;
Yet is not heard: the Dove without a gall,
Is left forsaken, and contemn’d of all.
There growes such diffrence and such strange confusions, 905
Twixt old decrees, and later institutions:
Yet being inspir’d, desisteth not to speake,
To edifie the conscience that is weake,
And by approoved arguments of’s owne,
By scriptures, fathers, and great writers knowne, 910
Discovereth their abominable trade;
So that the Storke their umpire being made,
Judgeth, the Daw should from the Church be driven,
To prate in corners, and to preach by even.
And since his art and cunning was so scant, 915
To have no patron but the ignorant;
And by his doctrine onely teaching fooles,
To be exilde, and hiss’d out of the schooles.
Hence like the seed Thebes-builder Cadmus threw,
More armed mischiefes suddenly up grew: 920
The Bittor brings his action ‘gainst the Quaile,
And on th’arrest allowes him hardly baile;
Because he durst presume amongst the reeds,
To leave his lemmon, where his female breeds.
And Mistris Titmouse a neate merrie dame, 925
With her friend Wag-tayle, one of speciall name.
Were su’d by th’Cuckow, in his proper wrong,
For him accusing with their sland’rous tongue,
Who to the barre his advocate doth bring,
That hath by rote the acts of many a king. 930
The lawes, the statutes, and decrees assignde,
Custome so old, as almost out of minde.
A day of hearing, good my lord, cries he,
For Master Cuckow that retayneth me;
Whom the lewd Wag-tayle basely hath abus’d 935
In so vile termes, as cannot be excus’d:
The parties likewise present here in court,
And’t is a case that well deserves report:
For which a jurie’s summoned with speed,
And to the triall presently proceed. 940
The brain-bald Coot a formall witlesse asse,
Must now, the foreman on this matter passe:
The sottish Dott’rill, ignorant and dull;
And next to him the maw-cram’d gluttonous Gull.
The lecherous Mallard, call’d unto the booke, 945
The squealing Lapwing, the ridiculous Rooke,
The witlesse Wood-cocke, and his neighbour Snite,
That will be hyr’d to passe on every rite,
With all the rest empannelled to waite:
Which when the jurie lastly was complete, 950
Call’d to the barre, admitted and allow’d:
Upstart the Peacocke, insolent and proud;
Of goodly stature and of gracious port,
In presence of the honourable court:
And for the plaintiffe learnedly began. 955
My Lord (saith he) was never worthy man,
So nobly bred, and of so high descent,
Of so faire lively-hood, and so large a rent,
As is the Cuckow, so abus’d hereby,
Nor yet so sland’red, as my plea shall try: 960
First, for the worth and honour of his name,
That you may better censure his defame;
From mightie birds descended every way,
And by his birth, the messenger to May;
His house still loyall, and his coat as faire, 965
His fathers tunes he never did impaire.
His name and nature doe so well agree,
As shews his bloud repurifide to bee.
In fruitfull Sparta, it is since now long,
That famous Greece tooke notice of his wrong, 970
When for her wanton and unchaste desire,
A thousand ships stuft with revengefull fire,
To Tenedos the proud Ægean lades,
Whence sprang those high immortall Illiades.
And since the Romans from the Asian broyles, 975
Return’d with conquest and victorious spoyles,
The Cuci heere continually have beene,
As by their ancient evidence is seene,
Of consult Cuccus, from whose mighty name,
These living Cuccos lineally came. 980
To him, the Ancients, temples did erect,
Which with great pompe and ornament were deckt.
Th’Italians call him Becco (of a nod)
With all the reverence that belongs a god.
What though in love supposed to be us’d,
What is his vertue need not be excus’d?
The wiseman tels (if Nature be our guide)
And in this bird who can her power denie,
If nature fram’d him to communitie? 990
Then wisely thus considering his profession,
You reverend judges of this lawfull session:
As you are patrones of the righteous cause,
Vouchsafe my clyent judgement. Heere doth pause.
Scarce could the Peacocke his conclusion make,
When straight his turne the Turkie-cocke doth take,
A learned lawyer (worthy of his gowne) 997
Of reputation both in court and towne:
And to the bench for audience having cry’d,
Thus to the Peacocke learnedly reply’d: 1000
Grave Reverend Fathers of the law (he said)
The matter that our adversaries plead,
Is vaine and idle; we the point inforce
Against the Cuckow and his lawlesse course.
The Peacocke here a cunning speech hath made, 1005
To helpe his clyent and uphold his trade;
But strip this maske that doth conceale the cause,
Examine each particular and clause
‘Gainst proofe so poore, so indigent to truth,
The bastard Cuckow bringing from his youth: 1010
First laid and hatch’d up in anothers nest,
Such vilenesse raign’d in his base parents brest,
Who since that time they never sought for shame,
Nor but their vice he dares for’s birth-right clayme:
The Hedge-Sparrow, this wicked bird that bred, 1015
That him so long and diligently fed,
(By her kind tendance) getting strength and power,
His carefull nurse doth cruelly devoure:
Base as his birth, so baser is his trade,
And to the world a by-word now is made: 1020
No nation names the Cuckow but in scorne,
And no man heares him, but he feares the home:
No month regards him but lascivious May,
Wherein whil’st youth is dallying with the day;
His song still tends to vanitie and lust, 1025
Amorous deceits, poligamies unjust.
But to cut off these tedious allegations,
The law commands, these publike defamations
Be straightly punish’d in the noblest men.
Why should you spare the cursed Cuckow then? 1030
Who all his life to lewdnesse being bent,
Rightly deserves the publik’st punishment?
Then, gentle jurors, good men, and elect,
As you your safeties carefully respect,
If loves sweet musike and his blissefull cheere, 1035
E’r touch’d your hearts, or mollifi’d your eare;
Tender the case, and evermore the wed
Shall prayse your conscience both at boord and bed.
Thus said, he ceas’d, the jurors stept aside,
Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works Page 74