That very nigh forsongen were (tired of singing).
Every one of these birds so styled is still to be met with in our directories, for even the alpe or bull-finch is not absent. It is only in the investigation of subjects like this we see how great are the changes that creep over a people’s language. What a list of words is this, which if uttered now would fall dead and meaningless upon the ear of the listener, and yet they were once familiar as household words.
(c) Fish.—‘John le Fysche’ or ‘William Fyske’ have left descendants enough to prove that many a Fish can live out of water, although much has been advanced to the contrary. At a time when the peasants lived daily on the products of the inland streams and sandy sea-banks, and when the supply was infinitely more plentiful than it is now, we can easily perceive the naturalness of the sobriquets that belong to this class. Terms that are all but obsolete to us now, were household words then. Hence it is that we find our directories of to-day abounding with such entries as ‘Whale,’[[592]] ‘Shark,’ ‘Dolphin,’ Herring,’[[593]] ‘Codde,’ ‘Codling,’ ‘Salmon,’[[594]] ‘Trout,’ ‘Mackarel,’ ‘Grayling,’ ‘Smelt,’ ‘Pilchard,’ ‘Whiting,’ ‘Turbot,’[[595]] ‘Keeling,’ ‘Crabbe,’ ‘Chubb,’[[596]] ‘Tench,’[[597]] ‘Pike,’ and ‘Pickerel.’ ‘John Sturgeon’ is mentioned by Foxe in his ‘Martyrology,’ under date 1541, and still remains. The Hundred Rolls contain a ‘William Lampreye.’ ‘Barnacle’ is still common, and ‘Mussell’ and ‘Spratt’[[598]] are not unknown. But perhaps the most curious of these early nicknames are those belonging to ‘Matilda le Welke’ and ‘William Welkeshorn.’ Probably they were notorious for a weakness towards that mollusk, which is still eaten in large quantities in some parts of England.
(d) Insects and Reptiles.—This is not a large class. The Hundred Rolls furnish us with a ‘Magge Flie’ and an ‘Oda[[599]] Flie.’ The same records contain a ‘Margaret Gnatte’ and a ‘William Gnatte.’ ‘Baldewin Bugg’ (B.) and ‘Bate Bugge’ (A.) are also found, but although the question has been asked—
If a party had a voice,
What mortal would be a Bugg by choice,
I fancy the cognomen is local, one of the endless forms, like ‘Brough,’ ‘Burgh,’ ‘Burkes,’ of the old ‘Borough.’ ‘Roger le Waps’[[600]] reminds us of the still existing provincialism for wasp, and ‘William Snake’ or ‘John Frog’ would be as little acceptable.[[601]] The smallest and most repulsive insect we have, the parasitic louse, is found in ‘Nicholas le Lus’ (J.), but our directories have now got rid of it—an example that might be followed with no small advantage in other quarters.
(2) Descriptive Compounds affixed as Nicknames.
But in an age like that of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries we cannot imagine that society would be merely required to come under a verbal castigation such as, after all, did nothing more than strike off the names of the animals that entered into Noah’s Ark. To call a man a ‘wolf’ or a ‘bull’ or a ‘grayling’ or a ‘salmon’ or a ‘peacock,’ after all, is not very dreadful. Terms of a more compound form, sobriquets more minutely anatomical, are also met with, the unpleasantness of which is proved by the fact of so few of them having come down to us, while not a small portion, as not fit for ears polite, must be altogether left in their obscurity. There are others, however, of which none need to be ashamed. For instance, the kingly denomination of ‘Quer-de-lyun’ (‘Ralph Querdelyun,’ T., ‘William Querdelion,’ X.),[[602]] found in several lists, could not but be agreeable, while ‘Dan-de-lyun,’ or ‘lion-toothed’ (‘William Daundelyun,’ B.), would be in thorough harmony with the spirit of the age. ‘Colfox’ (‘Thomas Colfox,’ Z.), still existing, would be less pleasant. The term ‘fox’ is supposed in itself to be synonymous with deceit, but the intensive ‘col-fox’ or ‘deceitful-fox’ must have implied duplicity indeed! Chaucer, in his ‘Nunn’s Story,’ speaks of
A col fox full of sleigh iniquity.