He can make low, and unto death bring nigh; In sooth, I speak from feeling; what though

But straightway to a wood, that was hard by, Not all asleep and yet not waking wholly;

There sat I down among the fair, fresh In the next bush that was me fast beside, flowers, I heard the lusty Nightingale so sing,

And saw the birds come tripping from their That her clear voice made a loud rioting, bowers, Echoing through all the greenwood wide.

Where they had rested them all night; and
they,

Who were so joyful at the light of day,
Began to honor May with all their powers.

XV.

Well did they know that service all by rote;
And there was many and many a lovely note-
Some, singing loud, as if they had com-
plained;

Some with their notes another manner
feigned;

XXI.

Ah! good sweet Nightingale! for my heart's cheer,

Hence hast thou stayed a little while too
long;

For we have had the sorry Cuckoo here,
And she hath been before thee with her

song;

Evil light on her! she hath done me wrong.

XXII.

And some did sing all out with the full throat. But hear you now a wondrous thing, I pray; As long as in that swooning-fit I lay, Methought I wist right well what these birds

XVI.

meant,

And had good knowing both of their intent, And of their speech, and all that they would say.

XXIII.

The Nightingale thus in my hearing spake:-
Good Cuckoo, seek some other bush or brake,

THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE.

And, prithee, let us, that can sing, dwell here;
For every wight eschews thy song to hear,
Such uncouth singing verily dost thou make.

thee now?

XXIV.

27

To speak of Love's true servants in this mood;
For in this world no service is so good,
To everv wight that gentle is of kind.

XXXI.

What! quoth she then, what is 't that ails For thereof comes all goodness and all worth; All gentiless and honor thence come forth; Thence worship comes, content, and true heart's pleasure,

It seems to me I sing as well as thou;

For mine's a song that is both true and plain,

Although I cannot quaver so in vain

As thou dost in thy throat, I wot not how.

XXV.

All men may understanding have of me,
But, Nightingale, so may they not of thee;
For thou hast many a foolish and quaint

cry:

Thou sayst OSEE, OSEE, then how may I
Have knowledge, I thee pray, what this may

be?

XXVI.

And full-assured trust, joy without measure,
And jollity, fresh cheerfulness, and mirth;

XXXII.

And bounty, lowliness, and courtesy,
And seemliness, and faithful company,
And dread of shame that will not do amiss;
For he that faithfully Love's servant is,
Rather than be disgraced, would chuse to die.

XXXIII.

And that the very truth it is which I
Now say,-in such belief I'll live and die;
And, Cuckoo, do thou so, by my advice.

Ab, fool! quoth she, wist thou not what it is? Then, quoth she, let me never hope for bliss,
Oft as I say OSEE, OSEE, I wis,
If with that counsel I do e'er comply.

Then mean I, that I should be wondrous fain
That shamefully they one and all were slain,
Whoever against Love mean aught amiss.

XXVII.

And also would I that they all were dead,
Who do not think in love their life to lead;
For who is loth the God of Love to obey
Is only fit to die, I dare well say;
And for that cause OSEE I cry; take heed!

XXVIII.

Ay, quoth the Cuckoo, that is a quaint law-
That all must love or die; but I withdraw,
And take my leave of all such company,
For my intent it neither is to die,

Nor ever while I live Love's yoke to draw.

XXIX.

For lovers, of all folk that be alive,
The most disquiet have, and least do thrive;
Most feeling have of sorrow, woe, and care,
And the least welfare cometh to their share;
What need is there against the truth to strive?

ΧΧΧ.

What! quoth she, thou art all out of thy mind,
That, in thy churlishness, a cause canst find

XXXIV.

Good Nightingale! thou speakest wondrous

fair,

Yet, for all that, the truth is found elsewhere;
For Love in young folk is but rage, I wis,
And Love in old folk a great dotage is;
Who most it useth, him 't will most impair.

XXXV.

For thereof come all contraries to gladness;
Thence sickness comes, and overwhelming
sadness,

Mistrust and jealousy, despite, debate,
Dishonor, shame, envy importunate,
Pride, anger, mischief, poverty, and madness.

XXXVI.

Loving is aye an office of despair,
And one thing is therein which is not fair;
For whoso gets of love a little bliss,
Unless it always stay with him, I wis
He may full soon go with an old man's hair.

XXXVII.

And therefore, Nightingale! do thou keep nigh:

For, trust me well, in spite of thy quaint cry,

If long time from thy mate thou be, or far,
Thou 'lt be as others that forsaken are;
Then shalt thou raise a clamor as do I.

XXXVIII.

Fie, quoth she, on thy name, Bird ill beseen!
The God of Love afflict thee with all teen.
For thou art worse than mad a thousand-fold;
For many a one hath virtues manifold,
Who had been naught, if Love had never been.

XXXIX.

For evermore his servants Love amendeth,
And he from every blemish them defendeth;
And maketh them to burn, as in a fire,

In loyalty and worshipful desire;

XLIV.

And so, methought, I started up anon,
And to the brook I ran and got a stone,
Which at the Cuckoo hardily I cast,
That he for dread did fly away full fast;
And glad, in sooth, was I when he was gone.

XLV.

And as he flew, the Cuckoo, ever and aye,
Kept crying: "Farewell!-farewell, Popin-
jay!"

As if in scornful mockery of me;
And on I hunted him from tree to tree,
Till he was far, all out of sight, away.

XLVI.

And, when it likes him, joy enough them Then straightway came the Nightingale to

sendeth.

XL.

me,

And said: Forsooth, my friend, do I thank

thee,

That thou wert near to rescue me; and now
Unto the God of Love I make a vow,

Thou Nightingale! the Cuckoo said, be still,
For Love no reason hath but his own will;-That all this May I will thy songstress be.
For to th' untrue he oft gives ease and joy;
True lovers doth so bitterly annoy,

XLVII.

He lets them perish through that grievous ill. Well satisfied, I thanked her; and she said,

XLI.

With such a master would I never be,

For he, in sooth, is blind, and may not see,
And knows not when he hurts and when he
heals;

Within his court full seldom Truth avails,
So diverse in his wilfulness is he.

XLII.

Then of the Nightingale did I take note-
How from her inmost heart a sigh she brought,
And said: Alas that ever I was born!
Not one word have I now, I'm so forlorn:
And with that word, she into tears burst out.

XLIII.

Alas, alas! my very heart will break,

By this mishap no longer be dismayed,
Though thou the Cuckoo heard, ere thou

heard'st me:

Yet if I live it shall amended be,
When next May comes, if I am not afraid.

XLVIII.

And one thing will I counsel thee also.
The Cuckoo trust not, thou, nor his Love's
saw;

All that he said is an outrageous lie.
Nay, nothing shall me bring thereto, quoth I,
For Love, and it hath done me mighty woe.

XLIX.

Yea, hath it? Use, quoth she, this medicine:
This May-time, every day before thou dine,
Go look on the fresh daisy; then say I,

Quoth she, to hear this churlish bird thus Although, for pain, thou mayst be like to die,

speak

Of Love, and of his holy services;

Now, God of Love! thou help me in some wise,

Thou wilt be eased, and less wilt droop and pine.

L.

And mind always that thou be good and true,

That vengeance on this Cuckoo I may wreak. And I will sing one song, of many new,

THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE.

For love of thee, as loud as I may cry.

And then did she begin this song full high,
"Beshrew all them that are in love untrue."

LI.

And soon as she had sung it to an end,
Now farewell, quoth she, for I hence must
wend;

And, God of Love, that can right well and
may,

Send unto thee as mickle joy this day,
As ever he to lover yet did send.

LII.

Thus takes the Nightingale her leave of me;
I pray to God with her always to be,
And joy of love to send her evermore;
And shield us from the Cuckoo and her lore,

For there is not so false a bird as she.

LIII.

Forth then she flew, the gentle Nightingale,
To all the birds that lodged within that dale,
And gathered each and all into one place,
And them besought to hear her doleful case;
And thus it was that she began her tale.

LIV.

29

Under a maple that is well beseen
Before the chamber-window of the Queen,
At Woodstock, on the meadow green and
gay.

LVIII.

She thanked them; and then her leave she took,

And flew into a hawthorn by that brook; And there she sat and sung, upon that tree, "For term of life Love shall have hold of me,"

So loudly, that I with that song awoke.

Unlearned Book and rude, as well I know,-
Who did on thee the hardiness bestow
For beauty thou hast none, nor eloquence,—
To appear before my Lady? But a sense
Thou surely hast of her benevolence,
Whereof her hourly bearing proof doth give;
For of all good she is the best alive.

Alas, poor Book! for thy unworthiness
To show to her some pleasant meanings, writ
In winning words, since through her genti-
less

The Cuckoo, 't is not well that I should Thee she accepts as for her service fit!

hide

How she and I did each the other chide,
And without ceasing, since it was daylight;
And now I pray you all to do me right
Of that false bird, whom Love cannot abide.

LV.

Then spake one bird, and full assent all gave,
This matter asketh counsel good as grave;
For birds we are-all here together brought;
And, in good sooth, the Cuckoo here is not;
And therefore we a Parliament will have.

LVI.

And thereat shall the Eagle be our Lord,
And other Peers whose names are on record.
A summons to the Cuckoo shall be sent,
And judgment there be given; or, that intent
Failing, we finally shall make accord.

LVII.

And all this shall be done, without a nay,
The morrow after Saint Valentine's day,

Oh! it repents me I have neither wit
Nor leisure unto thee more worth to give;
For of all good she is the best alive.

Beseech her meekly with all lowliness,
Though I be far from her I reverence,
To think upon my truth and steadfastness;
And to abridge my sorrow's violence
Caused by the wish, as knows your sapience,
She of her liking proof to me would give;
For of all good she is the best alive.

L'ENVOY.

Pleasure's Aurora, Day of gladsomeness!
Luna by night, with heavenly influence
Illumined! root of beauty and goodness!
Write, and allay, by your beneficence,
My sighs breathed forth in silence,-comfort
give!

Since of all good you are the best alive.
GEOFFREY CHAUCER.

Version of WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.