And, Cuckoo, do thou so, by my advice.
Then, quoth she, let me never hope for bliss,
If with that counsel I do e'er comply.
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.
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.
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.
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 'It be as others that forsaken are ;
Then shalt thou raise a clamor as do I.
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
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,
And, when it likes him, joy enough them sendeth
Thou Nightingale! the Cuckoo said, be still,
For Love no reason hath but his own will;
For to th' untrue he oft gives ease and joy ;
True lovers doth so bitterly annoy,
He lets them perish through that grievous ill.
With such a master would I never be ;*
For be, in sooth, is blind, and may not see,
And knows not when he hurts and when he heals:
Within this court full seldom Truth avails,
Sc diverse in his wilfulness is he.
* From a manuscript in the Bodleian are also stanzas 44 und 45, which are necessary to complete the sense.
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 am so forlorn ;-
And with that word, she into tears burst out.
Alas, alas! my very heart will break,
Quoth she, to hear this churlish bird thus speak Of Love, and of his holy services;
Now, God of Love! thou help me in some wise, That vengeance on this Cuckoo I may wreak.
And so methought I started up anon,
And to the brook I ran and got a stone,
Which at the Cuckoo hardily I cast,
And he for dread did fly away full fast;
And glad, in sooth, was I when he was gone.
And as he flew, the Cuckoo, ever and aye,
Kept crying, "Farewell! - farewell, Popinjay!"
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.
Then straightway came the Nightingale to 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,
That all this May I will thy songstress be.
Well satisfied, I thanked her, and she said,
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.
And one thing will I counsel thee alsó:
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.
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,
Although for pain thou mayst be like to die,
Thou wilt be eased, and less wilt droop and pine.
And mind always that thou be good and true,
And I will sing one song, of many new,
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."
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.
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.
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.
The Cuckoo, - 't is not well that I should 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.
Then spake one Bird, and full assent all gave.
This matter asketh counsel good as grave,
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