Entangling Is the Snare
Red Book of Hergest VIII
Entangling is the snare, clustered is the ash;
The ducks are in the pond; white breaks the wave;.
More powerful than a hundred is the counsel of the heart.
Long the night, boisterous is the sea-shore;
Usual a tumult in a congregation;
The vicious will not agree with the good.
Long the night, boisterous is the mountain,
The wind whistles over the tops of trees;
Ill-nature will not deceive the discreet.
The saplings of the green-topped birch
Will extricate my foot from the shackle;
Disclose not thy secret to a youth.
The saplings of oaks in the grove
Will extricate my foot from the chain;
Disclose no secret to a maid.
The saplings of the leafy oaks
Will extricate my foot from the prison
Divulge no secret to a babbler.
The saplings of bramble have berries on them;
The thrush is on her nest;
And the liar will never be silent.
Rain without, the fern is drenched;
White the gravel of the sea; there is spray on the margin;
IReason is the fairest lamp for man.
Rain without, near is the shelter,
The furze yellow; the cow-parsnip withered and dry;
God the Creator! why last thou made a coward?
Rain without, my hair is drenched;
Full of complaint is the feeble; steep the cliff;
Pale white is the sea; salt is the brine.
Rain without, the ocean is drenched;
The wind whistles over the tops of the reeds;
After every feat, still without the genius.