The Moral Fables: Prologue

Thocht feyneit fables of auld poetry
Be nocht al groundit upon treuth, yit than
Thar poleist termis of sweit rethory
Richt plesand ar unto the eir of man;
And als the caus quhy thai ferst begane,
Was to repreif the haill misleving
Of man, be figure of ane uther thing.

In lyke manner as throw the busteous erd,
So it be laborit with grit diligens,
Springis the flowris and the corne on brerd,
Hailsum and gud to mannis sustenens,
So spryngis thar a moral sweit sentens
Out of the sutell dyt of poetry,
To gud purpose, quha cowth it weil apply.

The nuttis schell, thocht it be hard and teuch,
Haldis the kirnell sweit and delectabill.
So lyis thar a doctrine wise aneuch
And full of fruyte, within a feyneit fabill.
And clerkis sayis, it is rycht profitabill
Amang ernyst to ming a mery sport,
To blyth the spreit, and gar the tyme be schort.

For, as we se, a bow that ay is bent
Worthis unsmert and dullis on the stryng,
So dois the mynd that ay is diligent
In ernystful thochtis and in studying:
With sad materis sum meryness to myng
Accordis weil, this Esope said, I wyss,
Dulcius arrident seria pida jocyss.

Of this author, my masteris, with your leif,
Submitting me to your correctione,
In moder toung of Latyne, I wald preif
To mak a maner of translatioun;
Nocht of my self, for vayne presumptioun,
Bot be request and precept of ane Lord,
Of quhome the name it nedis nocht heir record.

In namely langage and in termis ruyd
Me nedis wryt; for-quhy of eloquence
Nor rethory I nevir understuyd:
Tharfoir meikly I pray your reverence,
Gyf ye find owcht that throw my negligence
Be dymynut or yit superfluous,
Correct it at your willis gracious.

My auctour in this fabill tellis quhow
That brutall bestis spak, and understud,
And to gud purpose dispute and argow,
A sylogysme propone, and eik conclud,
Puttyng exempill and similitud;
Quhow mony men in operatioun
Are lik to bestis in conditioun.

No mervell is, a man be like a best,
Quhilk leiffis ay in carnal foul delyt,
That schayme can nocht him derenye nor arrest,
Bot takis al the lust and appetyt,
Quhilk, throw custum and the dayly ryt,
Syne in the mynd sa fast is radicat
That he in brutal best is transformat.

This nobil clerk Esope, as I haf told,
In gay meteyr and in facund purpurat
Be figure wryt his buk, for he nocht wald
Tak the disdane of he or law estat.
And to begyne, fyrst of a Cok he wrat,
Seikand his meit, quhilk fand a joly stone,
Of quhom the fabil ye sal heir anone.