The Jester shook his hood and bells, and leaped upon a chair; The pages laughed, the women screamed, and tossed their scented hair; The falcon whistled, staghounds bayed, the lapdog barked without, The scullion dropped the pitcher brown, the cook railed at the lout; The steward, counting out his gold, let pouch and money fall,-- And why? because the Jester rose to say grace in the hall! The page played with the heron's plume, the steward with his chain; The butler drummed upon the board, and laughed with might and main; The grooms beat on their metal cans, and roared till they were red,-- But still the Jester shut. his eyes and rolled his witty head, And when they grew a little still, read half a yard of text, And, waving hand, struck on the desk, then frowned like one perplexed. "Dear sinners all," the fool began, "man's life is but a jest, A dream, a shadow, hubble, air, a vapor at the best. In a thousand pounds of law I find not a single ounce of love; A blind man killed the parson's cow in shooting at the dove; The fool that eats till he is sick must fast till he is well; The wooer who can flatter most will bear away the belle. "Let no man halloo he is safe till he is through the wood; He who will not when he may, must tarry when he should; He who laughs at crooked men should need walk very straight; O, he who once has won a name may lie abed till eight; Make haste to purchase house and land, be very slow to wed; True coral needs no painter's brush, nor need be daubed with red. "The friar, preaching, cursed the thief (the pudding in his sleeve); To fish for sprats with golden hooks is foolish, by your leave; To travel well,--an ass's ears, hog's mouth, and ostrich legs; He does not care a pin for thieves who limps about and begs; Be always first man at a feast and last man at a fray; The short way round, in spite of all, is still the longest way; When the hungry curate licks the knife, there's not much for the clerk When the pilot, turning pale and sick, looks up --the storm grows dark." Then loud they laughed; the fat cook's tears ran down into the pan; The steward shook, that he was forced to drop the brimming can; And then again the women screamed, and every staghound bayed, And why? because the motley fool so wise a sermon made. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DISMAL MOMENT PASSING by CLARENCE MAJOR PORTRAIT OF A MOTOR CAR by CARL SANDBURG D.G.C. TO J.A by EMILY JANE BRONTE VISIONS: 4. A ROSE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE SHRUBBERY, WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION by WILLIAM COWPER A SALON SCENE by ANTON ALEXANDER VON AUERSPERG A BLACKBIRD SUDDENLY by JOSEPH AUSLANDER THE LAY OF THE OLD WOMAN CLOTHED IN GREY; A LEGEND OF DOVER by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |