My infortune, forsuith, thay wald forthink[157],
And comforte me that bene so impotent.
The swyft Swallow, in prattick[158] moste prudent,
I wate scho wald my bledyng stem belyve[159]
With hir moste verteous stone restringityve.”
“Compt me the cace, under confessioun,”
The Gled said proudlye to the Papingo,
“And we sall sweir, be our professioun,
Counsall to keip, and schaw it to no mo.
We thee beseik, or[160] thou depart us fro,