A ghastly fowler plied his trade

Of horror in a forest; made

All living creatures hold their breath:

He seemed to them the god of death.

He had no comrade on the earth,

No friend, no relative by birth.

They all renounced him; he had made

Them do so by his horrid trade.

For you know

The dreadful wretches bringing death On those who love their living breath,

With natural repulsion (like

Fierce serpents) fill before they strike.

To snare, to imprison, and to drub

He took a net, a cage, a club,

And wandering daily in the wood,

He brought all creatures harm, not good.

While he was in the wood one day,

The sky grew black with clouds straightway;

So wild the wind, sb fierce the rain,

It seemed the world dissolved in pain.

Then, as the heart within him quivered,

And every limb grew numb and shivered,

He sought where might a refuge be,

And chanced to come upon a tree.

Now as he rested, near and far

In sudden-clearing skies, each star

Shone bright; and he had wit to pray:

“O Lord, be kind to me today.”

There was a dove upon the tree

Whose nest was in a cavity;

And since his wife was absent long

He grieved for her in mournful song:

“The wind and rain were very great.

And my beloved wife is late

In coming home. When she is not

At home, home is an empty spot.

“The house is not the home; but where

The wife is found, the home is there.

The home without the wife is less

To me than some wild wilderness.

“Some wives their life’s devotion give,

And in and for the husband live;

Whatever man has such a wife

Is heaped with blessings all his life.”

From fowling-cage the female dove

Had caught the speech of grief and love;

And she was deeply gratified,

And to her husband thus replied:

“No woman earns the name of bride

Whose husband is not satisfied.

If he is happy, she may know

The gods she venerates are so.

“That woman should be burned entire

(Like vines that fade in forest-fire

While blossoms drop from clustered side)

Whose husband is not satisfied.”

And she continued:

“Oh, harken heedfully, my dear;

My words are good for you to hear;

Though it should cost your life, defend

The guest who seeks in you a friend.

“Here lies a fowler; as a guest

He asks for comfort at your nest.

Since cold and hunger press him sore.

Begrudge him not from honor’s store.

And the Scripture says:

“Whoever does not give his best

To cheer the late-arriving guest

Will see his merit borne away,

And for the other’s sins will pay.

“Oh, let no hate against him rise

Who caged the wife you idolize;

It is my sins of former lives

That, fateful, hold me in the gyves.

For well you know:

“Disease, and poverty, and pain,

with woe that prison brings amain.