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78 The Fabillis

And vnder plesance preuilie dois hyde.
Syne on the feild he sawis calf full wyde,

Quhilk is bot tume and verray vanitie,
Of fleschlie lust, and vaine prosperitie.

Thir hungrie birdis, wretchis we may call,
Ay scraipand in this warldis vane plesance.
Greddie to gadder gudis temporall,
Quhilk as the calf, ar tume without substance.
Lytill of vaill, and full of variance.
Lyke to the mow, befoir the face of wind
Quhiskis away, and makis wretchis blind.

This swallow quhilk eschaipit is the snair.
The halie preichour weill may signifie.
Exhortand folk to walk, and ay be wair
Fra nettis of our wickit enemie.
Quha sleipis not, bot euer is reddie,
Quhen wretchis in this warldis calf dois scraip,
To draw his net, that thay may not eschaip.

Allace quhat cair, quhat weiping is and wo,
Quhen saull and bodie partit ar in twane?
The bodie to the wormis keitching go:
The saull to fyre to euerlestand pane.
Quhat help is than this calf, thir gudis vane?
Quhen thow art put in luceferis bag,
And brocht to hell, and hangit be the crag.

Thir hid nettis for to persaue and se,
This sarie calf wyislie to vnderstand:
Best is bewar, in maist prosperitie,
For in this warld thair is na thing lestand.

Off Esope. 79

Is na man wait how lang his stait will stand,
His lyfe will lest, nor how that he sall end:
Efter his deith nor quhidder he sall wend.

Pray we thairfoir quhill we ar in this lyfe,,
For four thingis: the first, fra sin remufe.
The secund is, to seis all weir and stryfe,
The thrid is, perfite cheritie and lufe.
The feird thing is, and maist for our behufe,
That is in blis with angellis to be fallow.
And thus endis the preiching of the swallow.


The taill of the wolf, that gat the nek-
hering, throw the wrinkis of the foxe,
That begylit the cadgear.

Qwhylum thair wynnit in ane wildernes,
As myne authour expreslie can declair
Ane reuand volff, that leuit vpon purches,
On bestiall, and maid him weill to fair.
Wes nane sa big about him he wald spair,
And he war hungrie, outher for fauour, or feid,
Bot in his breith he weryit thame to deid.

Swa happinnit him in waithing as he went,
To meit ane foxe in middis off the way.

He him foirsaw, and fenzeit to be schent,
And with ane bek, he bad the volff gude day,
Welcum to me quod he thow russell gray.

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