by Charles Swan
“A doleful sight then gan he see;
His wife and his children three
Out of the fire were fled :
There they sat, under a thorn,
Bare and naked as they were born,
Brought out of their bed.
A woful man then was he,
When he saw them all naked be.
The lady said, all so blive,
‘For nothing, sir. be ye adrad.’
He did off his surcote of pallade,1
And with it clad his wife.
His scarlet mantle then shore he ;
Therein he closed his children three
That naked before him stood.
“He then proposed to his wife that, as an expiation of their sins, they should instantly undertake a pilgrimage to Jerusalem; and, cutting with his knife a sign of the cross on his shoulder, set off with the four companions of his misery, resolved to beg his bread till Be should arrive at the holy sepulchre.
“After passing through ‘seven lands,’ supported by the scanty alms of the charitable, they arrived at length at a forest where they wandered during three days without meeting a single habitation. Their food was reduced to the few berries which they were able to collect; and the children, unaccustomed to such hard fare, began to sink under the accumulated difficulties of their journey. In this situation they were stopped by a wide and rapid though shallow river. Sir Isumbras, taking his eldest son in his arms, carried him over to the opposite bank, and placing him under a bush of broom, directed him to dry his tears, and amuse himself by playing with the blossoms till his return with his brother. But scarcely had he left the place when a lion, starting from a neighbouring thicket, seized the child, and bore him away into the recesses of the forest. The second son became, in like manner, the prey of an enormous leopard; and the disconsolate mother, when carried over with her infant to the fatal spot, was with difficulty persuaded to survive the loss of her two elder children. Sir Isumbras, though he could not repress the tears extorted by this cruel calamity, exerted himself to console his wife, and, humbly confessing his sins, contented himself with praying that his present misery might be accepted by Heaven as a partial expiation.
“Through forest they went days three,
Till they came to the Greekish sea;
They grette,2 and were full wo!
As they stood upon the land,
They saw a fleet come sailand,
Three hundred ships and mo,
With top-castels set on-loft,
Richly then were they wrought,
With joy and mickle pride:
A heathen king was therein,
That Christendom came to win:
His power was full wide.
“It was now seven days since the pilgrims had tasted bread or meat; the soudan’s galley, therefore, was no sooner moored to the beach than they hastened on board to beg for food. The soudan, under the apprehension that they were spies, ordered them to be driven back on shore: but his attendants observed to him that these could not be common beggars; that the robust limbs and tall stature of the husband proved him to be a knight in disguise; and that the delicate complexion of the wife, who was ‘bright as blossom on tree,’ formed a striking contrast to the ragged apparel by which she was very imperfectly covered. They were now brought into the royal presence; and the soudan, addressing Sir Isumbras, immediately offered him as much treasure as he should require, on condition that he should renounce Christianity, and consent to fight under the Saracen banners. The answer was a respectful but peremptory refusal, concluded by an earnest petition for a little food; but the soudan, having by this time turned his eyes from Sir Isumbras to the beautiful companion of his pilgrimage, paid no attention to this request.
“The soudan beheld that lady there,
Him thought an angel that she were,
Cornell a-down from heaven:
‘Man! I will give thee gold and fee,
An thou that woman will sellen me,
More than thou can neven.1
I will thee given an hundred pound
Of pennies that ben whole and round,
And rich robes seven:
She shall be queen of my land;
And all men bow unto her hand;
And none withstand her steven.’2
Sir Isumbras said, ‘Nay !
My wife I will nought sell away,
Though ye me for her sloo!
I wedded her in Godis lay,
To hold her to mine ending day
Both for weal and wo.’
“It evidently would require no small share of casuistry to construe this declaration into an acceptance of the bargain; but the Saracens, having heard the offer of their sovereign, deliberately counted out the stipulated sum on the mantle of Sir Isumbras; took possession of the lady; carried the knight with his infant son on shore; beat him till he was scarcely able to move; and then returned for further orders.”— Specimens of E. E. Rom. v. 111.
This accordance of Sir Isumbras with the tale in the Gesta has not been noticed by Mr. Ellis.
The story is found in Caxton’s Golden Legend, and in the metrical Lues of the Saints.
NOTE 15. Page 219.
“From this beautiful tale, of which the opening only is here given, Occleve, commonly called Chaucer’s disciple, framed a poem in the octave, which was printed in the year 1614, by William Browne, in his set of Eclogues called the SHEPHEARD’S PIPE. Occleve has literally followed the book before us, and has even translated into English prose the MORALIZATION annexed. He has given no sort of embellishment to his original, and by no means deserves the praises which Browne, in the following elegant pastoral lyrics, has bestowed on his performance, and which more justly belong to the genuine Gothic, or rather Arabian, inventor.
“Well I wot, the man that first
Sung this lay, did quench his thirst,
Deeply as did ever one,
In the Muses’ Helicon.
Many times he hath been seen
With the faeries on the green,
And to them his pipe did sound,
As they danced in a round;
Mickle solace would they make him,
And at midnight often take him,
And convey him from his room
To a field of yellow broom,
Or into the meadows where
Mints perfume the gentle air.
And where Flora spreads her treasure,
There they would begin their measure.
If it chanced night’s sable shrouds
Muffled Cynthia in her clouds,
Safely home they then would see him,
And from brakes and quagmires free him.
There are few such swains as he
Now-a-days for harmony.1
“The history of Darius, who gave this legacy to his three sons, is incorporated with that of Alexander, which has been decorated with innumerable fictions by the Arabian writers. There is also a separate romance on Darius, and on Philip of Macedon.”—WARTON.
“The story has been very properly termed by Mr. Warton a beautiful one; but he has not been equally accurate in his statement, that ‘Occleve has literally followed the book before us (i.e. the original Gesta), and has even translated into English prose the moralization annexed.’ Occleve’s immediate model was our English Gesta; nor is it improbable that he might even be the translator of it; the moralization, also, is entirely different. Mr. Warton has omitted to notice, that this story corresponds with that of Fortunatus; which, unless itself of oriental origin, might have been taken from it.”— DOUCE.
The incident of the magic cloth may be found in “The Story of Prince Ahmed, and the Fairy Pari Banoil,” in the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments, vol. iii.
NOTE 16. Page 227
From this story, with very beseeming alterations, Dr. Byrom wrote the following tale of
THE THREE BLACK CROWS.
“Tale!” That will raise the question, I suppose,
&
nbsp; “What can the meaning be of three black crows ?”
It is a London story, you must know,
And happened, as they say, some time ago.
The meaning of it custom would suppress,
Till to the end we come: nevertheless,
Though it may vary from the use of old,
To tell the moral ere the tale be told,
We’ll give a hint for once, how to apply
The meaning first, then hang the tale thereby.
People full oft are put into a pother
For want of understanding one another;
And strange amusing stories creep about,
That come to nothing if you trace them out;
Lies of the day, perhaps, or month, or year,
Which, having served their purpose, disappear.
From which, meanwhile, disputes of every size,
That is to say, misunderstandings rise,
The springs of ill, from bick’ring up to battle,
From wars and tumults down to tittle-tattle.
Such as, for instance (for we need not roam
Far off to find them, but come nearer home),
Such as befall, by sudden misdivining,
On cuts, on coals, on boxes, and on signing,
Or on what now,1 in the affair of mills,
To us and you portends such serious ills.
To note how meanings, that were never meant,
By eager giving them too rash assent,
Will fly about, just like so many crows,
Of the same breed of which the story goes,—
It may, at least it should, correct a zeal,
That hurts the public, or the private weal.
Two honest tradesmen meeting in the Strand,
One took the other briskly by the hand ;
“Hark ye,” said he, “’tis an odd story this
About the crows !” “I don’t know what it is,”
Replied his friend. “No! I’m surprised at that—
Where I come from it is the common chat.
But you shall hear—an odd affair, indeed !
And that it happened, they are all agreed.
Not to detain you from a thing so strange,
A gentleman that lives not far from ’Change,
This week, in short, as all the alley knows,
Taking a puke, has thrown up three black crows!”
“Impossible!” “Nay, but indeed ’tis true ;
I had it from good hands, and so may you.”
“From whose, I pray ?” So having named the man,
Straight to inquire, his curious comrade ran.
“Sir, did you tell —— f “relating the affair.
“Yes, sir, I did; and if ‘tis worth your care,
Ask Mr. Such-a-one—he told it me;
But, by-the-by, ‘twas Two black crows, not THREE.”
Resolved to trace so wondrous an event,
Whip to the third the virtuoso went.
“Sir”—and so forth— “Why, yes; the thing is fact;
Tho’ in regard to number not exact:
It was not Two black crows, ’twas only One;
The truth of that you may rely upon.
The gentleman himself told me the case.”
“Where may I find him ?” “Why, in such a place.’
Away goes he, and having found him out,
“Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt”
Then to his last informant he referred,
And begged to know if true what he had heard ;
“Did you, sir, throw up a black crow ? ““Not I ?”
“Bless me I how people propagate a lie !
Black crows have been thrown up, THREE, TWO, and ONE,
And here, I find, all comes at last to none.
Did you, say nothing of a crow at all ?”
“Crow! crow! Perhaps I might, now I recall
The matter over.” “And pray, sir, what wasH ?”
“Why, I was horrid sick, and at the last
I did throw up, and told my neighbour so,
Something that was as black, sir, as a crow !”
Misc. Poems, vol. i. p. 31.
NOTE 17. Page 227.
“This is one of the most lively stories of Macrobius,” says Warton. It is detailed Satumal. lib. ii. c. 6, “De origine ac usu pr?text?,” page 147.—“Mos antea senatoribus fuit in curiam praetextatis filiis introire. Cum in senatu res major quoepiam consultabatur; eaque in posterum diem prolata esset: placuit ut hanc rem, super qua tractavissent, ne quis enuntiaret priusquam decreta esset. Mater Papirii pueri, qui cum parente suo in curia fuerat, percunctatur jfilium, quidnam in senatu egissent patres: puer respondit tacendum esse, neque id dici licere. Slulier fit audiendi cupidior, secretum rei et silentium pueri animum ejus ad inquirendum everberat. Qu?rit igitur compressus violentiusque; turn puer urgente matre lepidi atque festivi mendacii consilium capit; actum in senatu dixit utrum videretur utilius magisque é republica esse, unusne ut duas uxores haberet, an ut una apud duos nupta esset. Hoc ilia ubi audivit, animo compavescit; domo trepidans egreditur, ad c?teras matronas affert; postridieque ad senatum copiosa matrum-familias caterva confluunt. Lacrymantes atque obsecrantes orant una potius ut duobus nupta fieret, quam ut uni duae. Senatores ingredientes curiam, qu? ilia mulierum intem-peries, et quid sibi postulatio ist?c vellet, mirabantur; et ut non parv? rei prodigium illam verecundi sexus impudicam insaniam pavescebant. Puer Papirius publicum metum demit; nam in medium curi? progressus quid ipsi mater audire institisset, quid matri ipse simulasset; sicut fuerat, enarrat. Senatus fidem atque ingenium pueri exosculatur; consultumque facit uti posthac pueri cum patribus in curiam non introëant praeter ilium unum Papirium; eique puero postea cognomen turn honoris gratia decreto inditum, Pr?textatus ; ob tacendi loquendique in pr?text? ?tate prudentiam.”
NOTE 18. Page 244.
“Next unto which I may mention the COCKATRICE, or BASILISK; now this is the king of serpents, not for his magnitude or greatness, but for his stately pace and magnanimous mind; for the head and half part of his body he always carries upright, and hath a kind of crest like a crown upon his head. This creature is in thicknesse as big as a man’s wrist, and of length proportionable to that thickness: his eyes are red in a kind of cloudy blackness, as if fire were mixed with smoke. His poison is a very hot and venomous poison, drying up and scorching the grass as if it were burned, infecting the air round about him so as no other creature can live near him: in which he is like to the Gorgon, whom last of all I mentioned.
“And amongst all living creatures, there is none that perisheth sooner by the poison of the Cockatrice than man; for with his sight he killeth him: which is, because the beams of the Cockatrice’s eyes do corrupt the visible spirit of a man; as is affirmed: which being corrupted, all the other spirits of life, coming from the heart and brain, are thereby corrupted also; and so the man dieth. His hissing, likewise, is said to be as bad, in regard that it blasteth trees, killeth birds, &c., by poisoning the air. If any thing be slain by it, the same also proveth venomous to such as touch it: only a weasel kills it.
“That they be bred out of an egg laid by an old cock, is scarce credible; howbeit some affirm with great confidence, that when the cock waxeth old ... there groweth in him, of his corrupted seed, a little egg with a thin film instead of a shell, and this being hatched by the toad, or some such like creature, bringeth forth a venomous worm, although not this basilisk, that king of serpents.”—SWAN’S Speculum Mundi, chap. ix. p. 486. 1635.
NOTE 19. Page 247.
The following apologue from the Latin Æsop is probably from the Gesta Romanorum, the former being collected in the early part of the fifteenth century:—
“Of the Poor Man and the Serpent.
“He that applies himself to do other men harm, ought not to think himself secure; wherefore Æsop rehearseth this fable. There was a serpent which came into the house of a poor man, and lived of that which fell from the poor man’s table,
for the which thing there happened great fortune to this man, and he became rich. But on a day this man was very angrie against the serpent, and took a sword and smote at him; wherefore the serpent went out of the house, and came no more thither again. A little after, this man fell again into great poverty, and then he knew that by fortune of the serpent he was become rich; wherefore it repented him that he had driven away the serpent. Then he went and humbled himself to the serpent, saying, I pray thee that thou wilt pardon me the offence that I have done thee. And the serpent said, Seeing thou repentest thee of thy misdeed, I forgive thee; but as long as I shall live, I shall remember thy malice; for as thou hurtedst me once, so thou maiest again. Wherefore that which was once evil, shall ever so be held; men ought therefore not to insult over Mm of whom they receive some benefit, nor yet to suspect their good and true friends.”—P. 83. 1658.
There is also a falile attributed to Avian (a Latin writer of the fourth century, who imitated Phsedrus), to the following purport:—
“He that seeketh to get more than he ought, oft-times getteth nothing; as saith the fable, of a man which had a goose that laid every day an egge of gold. The man, out of covetousness, commanded her that every day she should lay two eggs: and she said to him, ‘Certainly, my master, I may not.’ Wherefore the man was wroth with her, and slew her; by means whereof he lost his former profit, and afterwards waxed very sorrowful.”—1658.
But these stories, with some of modem manufacture, have all, probably, originated from the apologue of Gabria, or Babria, a Greek poet, who put the fables of Æsop into Iambic verse. The period in which he flourished is unknown.
[This poet’s name is Babrias, not Babria, still less Gabria.—ED.]
