Willem,
die den Madoc maecte,
Daer hi
dicke omme waecte,
Hem
vernoyede so haerde,
Dat
davonturen van Reinaerde
In
Dietsce onghemaket bleven,
(Die hi
hier hevet vulscreven)
Dat hi
die vite dede soeken,
Ende
hise naden walscen boeken
In
Dietsce dus hevet begonnen.
God
moete ons siere hulpe onnen! [...]
Het was
in enen Sinxendaghe
Dat
beide bosch ende haghe
Met
groenen loveren waren bevaen:
Nobel,
die coninc, hadde ghedaen
Sijn hof
craieren over al,
Dat hi
waende, hadde hijs gheval,
Houden
te wel groten love.
Doe
quamen tes coninx hove
Alle die
diere, groot ende clene,
Sonder
vos Reinaert allene.
Hi hadde
te hove so vele mesdaen,
Dat hire
niet ne dorste gaen:
Die hem
besculdich kent ontsiet.
Also was
Reinaerde ghesciet;
Ende
hier omme scuwedi sconinx hof,
Daer hi
in hadde cranken lof.
Doe al
dat hof versamet was,
Was daer
niemen, sonder die das,
Hine
hadde te claghene over Reinaerde,
Den
fellen metten roden baerde.
Willem,
who did Madoc write,
often
till very late at night,
was so
disgruntled by the thought
that
Reynard’s deeds remained unwrought
in our
mother tongue to date
(for
Aernout found the task too great)
that
from French accounts he gleaned
what of
Reynard’s life he weened
in our
language folk might read.
This
mighty task we wish godspeed! [...]
Whitsuntide
had clothed in green
both
shrub and wood, a perfect scene
for King
Nobel’s summoned court
to which
all subjects had to report,
it was, he thought, the perfect chance,
throughout
his kingdom to enhance
his
glory and his royal fame.
The
animals to his court then came
great
and small in a single line,
but of
Reynard – not a sign.
He’d at
court done so much wrong
that he
was loath to come along.
He had
everything to fear
and his
guilt was all too clear,
so he
shunned the royal court
where
his standing was as nought.
When the
assembly was complete
all called Reynard an evil cheat,
except
for the badger, and did crave
justice
for the red-bearded knave.
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