Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 59, No. 368, June 1846

The meads were prankt in gold and green,
And 'leetel fowles' of liveried sheen,
Their pipes with Jubilate! swelling,
From bush and spray were philomelling —
The breeze came balmy from the west,
And April, harness'd in her best,
The laughing sun led forth to see —
When Noble (lion-king was he,
And sceptre sway'd o'er bird and beast,)
Held ancient ways, and kept the feast,
The trumpets clang'd loud proclamation —
The couriers coursed throughout the nation —
Full many a Brave and many a Bold
Came hastening in troops untold."

The German translator here keeps precisely within the same compass of fourteen lines with his "first type," while the Londoner has one-half more. But this is not the main difference. The German is neater and more natural, and nearer the spirit as well as the letter of his model. All the trash in the new reproduction about hawthorns "kercheft in white," the low-breathed lute of the rill trilling, the cuckoo and his herald note, the 'leetel fowles' swelling and philomelling, and April harnessed in her best, are mere frippery sewed on by the reproducer, to make the venerable old garment look finer in the eyes of his co-Cockneys.

We next give the two translations of that part of the poem which represents the Cock's complaints against Reynard, for killing his daughter, and which is supposed to give so accurate a representation of the form of process in the Middle Ages in an accusation of murder.

Soltau

"Gray scarce had done, when Chanticleer
The Cock in mourning did appear;
Two sons accompanied their sire,
Like him in funeral attire,
With hoods of crape and torches lighted,
And doleful lays they both recited.
Two others follow'd with a bier;
Mournful and slowly they drew near,
With heartfelt sighs and deepest groan,
Their fav'rite sister to bemoan.
"The Cock in tears the throne approach'd,
And thus his sad harangue he broach'd:
'My Liege, have pity on a man,
The most distressed of his clan,
Who, with his children here before You,
Is come, for vengeance to implore You
On Reynard, who, with fell design,
Hath done great harm to me and mine.
When hoary Winter left the plain,
And Spring smiled on the world again,
When leaves were budding, daisies springing,
And tuneful birds in thickets singing,
The sun at dawn of morning found me
With my young family around me;
Ten sons and fourteen daughters fair,
Breathing with joy the genial air,
All of one breed, and full of life,
Brought up by my good prudent wife.
Protected by a massy wall
And six bold mastiffs, stout and tall,
They lived, in spite of Reynard crafty,
Within a cloister-yard in safety.
"But lo! our enemy contrived
Our joy, alas! should be short-lived.
In hermit's garb the traitor came,
With letters, written in your name,
Where strictest orders were express'd,
To keep peace between bird and beast.
He said, he scorn'd the joys of sense,
And led a life of penitence,
To expiate his former guilt,
And streams of blood, which he had spilt;
He vow'd, in future he would eat
No poultry, nor forbidden meat.
"All joyful, to my little crew,
To tell the happy news I flew,
That Reynard friar's garments wore,
And was our enemy no more.
Now for the first time we did venture
Out of our gate. A dire adventure
Awaited us; for whilst we stray'd
And sported on a sunny glade,
Reynard, conceal'd below a bush,
Upon us suddenly did rush;
One of my hopeful sons he slew,
And of my fairest daughters two. —
Five only out of twenty-four
Are left; the rest he did devour.
My daughter Rake-up, on this bier,
Slain by the murderer, lies here;
He bit her neck off yesterday —
Revenge her death, my liege, I pray.'
"'Sir Gray,(quoth Noble,) did you hear?
Fine things of th' hermit-fox appear.
Was't thus, that with his fasts he meant it?
Sure as I live he shall repent it!
"'Good Cock, we've heard your mournful tale,
And we your daughter's fate bewail;
Thus, first of all, we'll see the honour
Of funeral rites bestow'd upon her;
Next with our Council we shall further
Consult, how to revenge this murther.'"

Naylor

"He ceased; and scarce a sand had run
When Chanticleer and all his clan
Appear'd in court: right in the van
A pullet's corse accompanied,