XX.

Closely allied to drinking-songs are some comic ditties which may have been sung at wine-parties. Of these I have thought it worth while to present a few specimens, though their medieval bluntness of humour does not render them particularly entertaining to a modern reader.

The first I have chosen is _The Lament of the Roast Swan_. It must be remembered that this bird was esteemed a delicacy in the Middle Ages, and also that pepper was highly prized for its rarity. This gives a certain point to the allusion in the third stanza.

THE LAMENT OF THE ROAST SWAN.

No. 53.

Time was my wings were my delight, Time was I made a lovely sight; 'Twas when I was a swan snow-white. Woe's me! I vow, Black am I now, Burned up, back, beak, and brow!

The baster turns me on the spit, The fire I've felt the force of it, The carver carves me bit by bit. I'd rather in the water float Under the bare heavens like a boat, Than have this pepper down my throat.

Whiter I was than wool or snow, Fairer than any bird I know; Now am I blacker than a crow.

Now in the gravy-dish I lie, I cannot swim, I cannot fly, Nothing but gnashing teeth I spy. Woe's me! I vow, &c.

The next is _The Last Will of the Dying Ass_. There is not much to be said for the wit of this piece.

THE WILL OF THE DYING ASS.

No. 54.

While a boor, as poets tell, Whacked his patient ass too well, On the ground half dead it fell. La sol fa, On the ground half dead it fell, La sol fa mi re ut.

Then with gesture sad and low, Streaming eyes and words of woe, He at length addressed it so: "Had I known, my gentle ass, Thou from me so soon wouldst pass, I'd have swaddled thee, alas!

"Made for thee a tunic meet, Shirt and undershirt complete, Breeches, drawers of linen sweet.

"Rise awhile, for pity's sake, That ere life your limbs forsake You your legacies may make!"

Soon the ass stood up, and thus, With a weak voice dolorous, His last will proclaimed for us:

"To the magistrates my head, Eyes to constables," he said, "Ears to judges, when I'm dead;

"To old men my teeth shall fall, Lips to wanton wooers all, And my tongue to wives that brawl.

"Let my feet the bailiffs win, Nostrils the tobacco-men, And fat canons take my skin.

"Voice to singing boys I give, Throat to topers, may they live! **** to students amative.

"*** on shepherds I bestow, Thistles on divines, and lo! To the law my shade shall go.

"Elders have my tardy pace, Boys my rude and rustic grace, Monks my simple open face."

He who saith this testament Will not hold, let him be shent; He's an ass by all consent. La sol fa, He's an ass by all consent, La sol fa mi re ut.

As a third specimen I select a little bit of mixed prose and verse from the _Carmina Burana_, which is curious from its allusion to the Land of Cockaigne. Goliardic literature, it may be parenthetically observed, has some strong pieces of prose comedy and satire. Of these, the _Mass of Topers_ and _Mass of Gamesters_, the _Gospel according to Marks_, and the description of a fat monk's daily life deserve quotation.[34] They are for the most part, however, too profane to bear translation.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 34: Wright's _Rel. Ant._, ii.; _Carm. Bur._, pp. 248 and 22; Wright's _Mapes_, p. xl.]

THE ABBOT OF COCKAIGNE.

No. 55.

I am the Abbot of Cockaigne, And this is my counsel with topers; And in the sect of Decius (gamesters) this is my will; And whoso shall seek me in taverns before noon; After evensong shall he go forth naked, And thus, stripped of raiment, shall lament him: Wafna! wafna! O Fate most foul, what hast thou done? The joys of man beneath the sun Thou hast stolen, every one!