The fox! the wicked fox! was all the cry;
  Out from his house ran every neighbour nigh: 
  The vicar first, and after him the crew,
  With forks and staves the felon to pursue. 
  Ran Coll our dog, and Talbot with the band,
  And Malkin, with her distaff in her hand: 
  Ran cow and calf, and family of hogs, 730
  In panic horror of pursuing dogs;
  With many a deadly grunt and doleful squeak,
  Poor swine, as if their pretty hearts would break. 
  The shouts of men, the women in dismay,
  With shrieks augment the terror of the day. 
  The ducks that heard the proclamation cried,
  And fear’d a persecution might betide,
  Full twenty miles from town their voyage take,
  Obscure in rushes of the liquid lake. 
  The geese fly o’er the barn; the bees in arms 740
  Drive headlong from their waxen cells in swarms. 
  Jack Straw at London-stone, with all his rout,
  Struck not the city with so loud a shout;
  Not when, with English hate, they did pursue
  A Frenchman, or an unbelieving Jew: 
  Not when the welkin rung with ‘one and all;’
  And echoes bounded back from Fox’s hall: 
  Earth seem’d to sink beneath, and heaven above to fall. 
  With might and main they chased the murderous fox,
  With brazen trumpets, and inflated box, 750
  To kindle Mars with military sounds,
  Nor wanted horns to inspire sagacious hounds.

    But see how Fortune can confound the wise,
  And when they least expect it, turn the dice! 
  The captive-cock, who scarce could draw his breath,
  And lay within the very jaws of death;
  Yet in this agony his fancy wrought,
  And fear supplied him with this happy thought: 

    Yours is the prize, victorious prince! said he,
  The vicar my defeat, and all the village see. 760
  Enjoy your friendly fortune while you may,
  And bid the churls that envy you the prey
  Call back their mongrel curs, and cease their cry,
  See, fools, the shelter of the wood is nigh,
  And Chanticleer in your despite shall die,
  He shall be pluck’d and eaten to the bone.

    ’Tis well advised, in faith it shall be done;
  This Reynard said:  but as the word he spoke,
  The prisoner with a spring from prison broke;
  Then stretch’d his feather’d fans with all his might, 770
  And to the neighbouring maple wing’d his flight;
  Whom, when the traitor safe on tree beheld,
  He cursed the gods, with shame and sorrow fill’d: 
  Shame for his folly, sorrow out of time,
  For plotting an unprofitable crime;
  Yet mastering both, the artificer of lies
  Renews the assault, and his last battery tries.