XXVI. Torment and shameful death to every one Them therefore with wild horses did he draw, XXVII. Upon his bier this Innocent doth lie Yet spake this Child when sprinkled was the water, XXVIII. This Abbot, for he was a holy man, As all Monks are, or surely ought to be, In supplication to the Child began, Thus saying: 'O dear Child! I summon thee, In virtue of the holy Trinity, Tell me the cause why thou dost sing this hymn, Since that thy throat is cut, as it doth seem.' 6 ΧΧΙΧ. My throat is cut unto the bone, I trow,' Said this young Child, and by the law of kind, I should have died, yea many hours ago, But Jesus Christ, as in the books ye find, This well of mercy, Jesu's Mother sweet, XXXI. Wherefore I sing, nor can from song refrain, In honor of that blissful Maiden free, Till from my tongue off-taken is the grain. And after that thus said she unto me: "My little Child, then will I come for thee Soon as the grain from off thy tongue they take: Be not dismayed, I will not thee forsake!"' XXXII. This holy Monk, this Abbot, him mean I, Eke the whole Convent on the pavement lay, And after that they rose, XXXIV. Young Hew of Lincoln in like sort laid low Pray also thou for us, while here we tarry, On us, for reverence of his Mother Mary!" II. THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE. I. THE God of Love, — ah benedicite ! How mighty and how great a Lord is he! II. Within a little time, as hath been found, He can make sick folk whole and fresh and sound: Them who are whole in body and in mind, He can make sick, — bind can he and unbind All that he will have bound, or have unbound. III. To tell his might my wit may not suffice; IV. In brief, the whole of what he will, he may; To gladden or to grieve, he hath like skill; V. For every true heart, gentle heart and free, Now against May shall have some stirring, whether To joy, or be it to some mourning; never VI. For now when they may hear the small birds' song, And see the budding leaves the branches throng, This unto their remembrance doth bring VII. And of that longing heaviness doth come, VIII. In sooth, I speak from feeling, what though now Old am I, and to genial pleasure slow; Yet have I felt of sickness through the May, Both hot and cold, and heart-aches every day, How hard, alas! to bear, I only know. IX. Such shaking doth the fever in me keep That any living heart should sleepy be In which Love's dart its fiery point doth steep. X. But tossing lately on a sleepless bed, I of a token thought which Lovers heed; |