Classic Poem

Sum man goth stille of wysdam and resoun
Aforn provided can kepe weel scilence;
Fful offte it noyeth, be recoord of Catoun,
Large language concludyng off no sentence;
Speche is but fooly and sugryd elloquence
Medlyd with language wheer men have noght to don;
An old proverbe groundid on sapience,
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe schoon.

To thynke mochyl, and seyn but smal,
Yiff thow art feerffulle to ottre thy language,
It is no wisdam a man to seyn out al;
Sum bird can synge merily in his cage.
The stare wyl chatre and speke of long usage,
Though in his speche ther be no greet resoun;
Kepe ay thy tounge fro surfect and outrage;
Alle go we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

Unavised speke no thyng toforn,
Nor of thy tounge be nat rekkelees,
Uttre nevir no darnel with good corn,
Begyn no trouble whan men trete of pees;
Scilence is good, and in every prees,
Which of debate yevith noon occasyoun;
Pacience preysed of prudent Socratees;
Alle go we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

Comoun astrologeer, as folk expert weel knowe,
To kepe the howrys and tydis of the nyght,
Sumtyme hih and sumtyme he syngith lowe;
Dam Pertelot sit with hire brood doun right;
The fox comyth neer withoute candellyght
To trete of pees, menyng no tresoun,
To avoyde as gile and ffraude he hath behight,
All go we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

Undir fals pees ther may be covert ffraude;
Good cheer outward, with face of innocence;
Ffeyned fflaterye, with language of greet laude;
But what is wers than shynyng apparence,
Whan it is prevyd ffals in existence?
Al is dul shadwe whan Phebus is doun goon,
Berkyng behynde, ffawnyng in presence;
Alle go we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

The royalle egle, with his ffetherys dunne,
Of nature so hih takith his flyght,
No bakke of kynde may looke ageyn the sunne,
Of ffrowardnesse yit wyl he ffleen be nyght
And quenche laumpys, though they brenne bright.
Thynges contrarye may nevir accorde in oon;
A fowle gloowerm in dirknesse shewith a lyght;
Alle go we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

The wourld is tournyd almoost up-so-doun,
Undir prynces ther dar noon officeer,
Peyne of his lyff, do noon extorcioun;
Ffreerys dar nat fflatere, nor no pardowneer,
Where evir he walke al the longe yeer,
Awtentyk his seelys everychoon,
Up peyne of cursyng, I dar remembre heer,
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon,

Alle estatys of good condicioun
Wille noon of them offende his conscience.
Bysshoppis, prelatys, of oon affeccioun
Kepe ther chargys of entieer dilligence;
Avaunsyd persownys holde residence
Among ther parysshens, make a departysoun
Of ther tresours to folk in indigence;
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

I saugh a kevelle, corpulent of stature,
Lyk a materas redlyd was his coote,
And theron was sowyd this scripture,
A good be stille is weel wourth a groote.
It costith nat mekyl to behoote,
And paye ryght nought whan the feyre is doon.
Suych labourerys synge may be roote,
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

Atwen a shipe with a large seyl
And a cokboot that goth in Tempse lowe,
The toon hath oorys, to his greet avayl,
To spede his passage whan the wynd doth blowe;
A blynd maryneer, that doth no sterre knowe,
His loodmannage to conveye doun;
A ffressh comparisoun, a goshawk and a crowe;
Alle go we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

The royalle egle, with his fetherys dunne,
Whoos eyen been so cleer and so bryght
Off nature, he perce may the sunne;
The owgly bakke wyl gladly fleen be nyght
Dirk cressetys and laumpys that been lyght;
The egle aloffte, the snayl goth lowe doun,
Darythe in his shelle, yit may he se no sight;
Alle go we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

The pecok hath ffetherys bryght and shene;
The cormeraunt wyl daryn in the lake;
Popyngayes froo Paradys comyn al grene;
Nyghtynggales al nyght syngen and wake,
For longe absence and wantyng of his make;
Withoute avys make no comparysoun
Atween a laumperey and a shynyng snake;
Alle go we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

Where is also a thyng incomparable,
By cleer repoort, in al the wourld thorugh right;
The ryche preferryd, the poore is ay cowpable,
In ony quarelle gold hath ay moost myght.
Evir in dirknesse the owle takith his flight;
It were a straunge unkouth devisyoun,
Tersites wrecchyd, Ector moost wourthy knyght;
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

Is noon so proude, pompous in dignyte,
As he that is so sodeynly preferryd
To hih estaat, and out of poverte;
Draco volans on nyght his tayl is sterryd;
Stellae erraticae nat ffix, for they been erryd;
Stable in the eyr is noon inpressioun;
This wourld wer stable, yif it were nat werryd;
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

Among estatys whoo hath moost quiete?
Hih lordshippes be vexid with bataylle;
Tylthe of ploughmen ther labour wyl nat lete;
Geyn Phebus uprist syngen wyl the quaylle;
The amerous larke of nature wyl not faylle
Ageyn Aurora synge with hire mery sown;
No laboureer wyl nat for his travaylle;
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

Foo unto hevys and enemy is the drane;
Men with a tabour may lyghtly cacche an hare;
Bosard with botirflyes makith beytis for a crane;
Brecheless beerys be betyn on the bare;
Houndys for favour wyl nat spare
To pynche his pylche with greet noyse and soun;
Clepith he merye that slombryth with greet care;
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

I sauh a krevys, with his klawes longe,
Pursewe a snayl, poore and impotent;
Hows of this snayl, the wallys wer nat stronge,
A slender shelle, the sydes al torent.
Whoo hath no goold, his tresour soone spent;
The snaylis castel but a sklendir coote;
Whoo seith trouthe, offte he shalle be shent;
A good be stille is offte weel wourth a groote.

Whoo hath noon hors on a staff may ryde;
Who hath no bed, may slepyn in his hood;
Whoo hath no dyneer, at leyser must abyde,
To staunche his hungir abyde upon his ffood.
A beggers appetight is alwey ffressh and good,
With voyde walet, whan al his stuff is doon,
Ffor fawte of vitaylle may knele afore the skood;
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

The ryche man sit stuffyd at his stable;
The poore man stant hungry at the gate,
Of remossaylles he wolde be partable;
The awmeneer seyth he cam to late.
Off poore men doolys is no sekir date,
Smal or ryght nought whan the feeste is doon.
He may weel grucche and with his tounge prate;
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

A good be stille is weel wourth a groote;
Large language causith repentaunce;
The kevel wroot in his rydlyd coote,
Out with al this marke in your remembraunce.
Whoo cast his journe in Yngelond or in Ffraunce,
With gallyd hakeneys, whan men have moost to doon,
A ffool presumptuous, to cacche hym acqueyntaunce;
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

Whoo that is hungry, and hath no thyng but boonys
To staunche his apetyght, is a froward foode;
Among an hundryd oon chose out for the noonys
To dygestioun repastys be nat goode.
To chese suych vitaylles ther braynes wer to woode.
That lyoun is gredy that stranglith goos or capoun;
Fox and ffulmard, togidre whan they stoode,
Sang, be stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.

Here al thyng and kepe thy pacience;
Take no quarelle, thynk mekyl and sey nought;
A good be stille, with discreet scilence
For a good grote may not wel be bought.
Keep cloos thy tounge, men sey that free is thought,
A thyng seid oonys, outhir late or soon,
Tyl it be loost, stoole thyng is nat sought;
Alle goo we stille, the cok hath lowe shoon.