The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth Volume Ii Part 89

X But tossing lately on a sleepless bed, I of a token thought which Lovers heed; How among them it was a common tale, That it was good to hear the Nightingale, Ere the vile Cuckoo's note be uttered. 50

XI And then I thought anon as it was day, I gladly would go somewhere to essay If I perchance a Nightingale might hear, For yet had I heard none, of all that year, And it was then the third night of the May. 55

XII And soon as I a glimpse of day espied, No longer would I in my bed abide, But straightway to a wood that was hard by, Forth did I go, alone and fearlessly, And held the pathway down by a brook-side; 60

XIII Till to a lawn I came all white and green, I in so fair a one had never been.

The ground was green, with daisy powdered over; Tall were the flowers, the grove a lofty cover, All green and white; and nothing else was seen. [C] 65

XIV There sate I down among the fair fresh flowers, And saw the birds come tripping from their bowers, Where they had rested them all night; and they, Who were so joyful at the light of day, Began to honour May with all their powers. 70

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 complained; Some with their notes another manner feigned; And some did sing all out with the full throat. 75

XVI They pruned themselves, and made themselves right gay, Dancing and leaping light upon the spray; And ever two and two together were, The same as they had chosen for the year, Upon Saint Valentine's returning day. 80

XVII Meanwhile the stream, whose bank I sate upon, Was making such a noise as it ran on Accordant to the sweet Birds' harmony; Methought that it was the best melody Which ever to man's ear a pa.s.sage won. 85

XVIII And for delight, but how I never wot, I in a slumber and a swoon was caught, Not all asleep and yet not waking wholly; And as I lay, the Cuckoo, bird unholy, Broke silence, or I heard him in my thought. 90

XIX And that was right upon a tree fast by, And who was then ill satisfied but I?

Now, G.o.d, quoth I, that died upon the rood, From thee and thy base throat, keep all that's good, Full little joy have I now of thy cry. 95

XX And, as I with the Cuckoo thus 'gan chide, In the next bush that was me fast beside, I heard the l.u.s.ty Nightingale so sing, That her clear voice made a loud rioting, Echoing through all the green wood wide. [D] 100

XXI Ah! good sweet Nightingale! for my heart's cheer, Hence hast thou stayed a little while too long; For we have had [2] the sorry Cuckoo here, And she hath been before thee with her song; Evil light on her! she hath done me wrong. 105

XXII 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 meant, And had good knowing both of their intent, And of their speech, and all that they would say. 110

XXIII The Nightingale thus in my hearing spake:-- Good Cuckoo, seek some other bush or brake, And, prithee, let us that can sing dwell here; For every wight eschews thy song to hear, Such uncouth singing verily dost thou make. 115

XXIV What! quoth she then, what is't that ails thee now?

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. 120

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 say'st, OSEE, OSEE, then how may I Have knowledge, I thee pray, what this may be? 125

XXVI Ah, fool! quoth she, wist thou not what it is?

Oft as I say OSEE, OSEE, I wis, Then mean I, that I should be wondrous fain That shamefully they one and all were slain, Whoever against Love mean aught amiss. 130

XXVII And also would I that they all were dead, Who do not think in love their life to lead; For who is both the G.o.d of Love to obey, Is only fit to die, I dare well say, And for that cause OSEE I cry; take heed! 135

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 mine intent it neither is to die, Nor ever while I live Love's yoke to draw. 140

XXIX For lovers of all folk that be alive, The most disquiet have and least do thrive; Most feeling have of sorrow [3] woe and care, And the least welfare cometh to their share; What need is there against the truth to strive? 145

x.x.x What! quoth she, thou art all out of thy mind, That in thy churlishness a cause canst find To speak of Love's true Servants in this mood; For in this world no service is so good To every wight that gentle is of kind. 150

x.x.xI For thereof comes all goodness and all worth; All gentiless [4] and honour thence come forth; Thence wors.h.i.+p comes, content and true heart's pleasure, And full-a.s.sured trust, joy without measure, And jollity, fresh cheerfulness, and mirth; 155

x.x.xII 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. 160

x.x.xIII 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.

Then, quoth she, let me never hope for bliss, If with that counsel I do e'er comply. 165

x.x.xIV 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 'twill most impair. 170

x.x.xV For thereof come all contraries to gladness; Thence sickness comes, and overwhelming sadness, Mistrust and jealousy, despite, debate, Dishonour, shame, envy importunate, Pride, anger, mischief, poverty, and madness. 175

x.x.xVI 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 alway stay with him, I wis He may full soon go with an old man's hair. 180

x.x.xVII 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 shall thou raise a clamour as do I. 185

x.x.xVIII Fie, quoth she, on thy name, Bird ill beseen!

The G.o.d 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 nought, if Love had never been. 190

x.x.xIX 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 wors.h.i.+pful desire, And, when it likes him, joy enough them sendeth. 195

XL 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. 200

XLI With such a master would I never be; [E]

For he, 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, So diverse in his wilfulness is he. 205

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 am so forlorn,-- And with that word, she into tears burst out. 210

XLIII Alas, alas! my very heart will break, Quoth she, to hear this churlish bird thus speak Of Love, and of his holy services; Now, G.o.d of Love! thou help me in some wise, That vengeance on this Cuckoo I may wreak. 215

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, And he for dread did fly away full fast; And glad, in sooth, was I when he was gone. 220

XLV 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. 225

XLVI 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 G.o.d of Love I make a vow, That all this May I will thy songstress be. 230

XLVII 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. 235

XLVIII And one thing will I counsel thee also, The Cuckoo trust not thou, nor his Love's saw; All that she said is an outrageous lie.

Nay, nothing shall me bring thereto, quoth I, For Love, and it hath done me mighty woe. 240

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, Although for pain thou may'st be like to die, Thou wilt be eased, and less wilt droop and pine. 245

L 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." 250

LI And soon as she had sung it to the end, Now farewell, quoth she, for I hence must wend; And, G.o.d of Love, that can right well and may, Send unto thee as mickle joy this day, As ever he to Lover yet did send. 255

LII Thus takes the Nightingale her leave of me; I pray to G.o.d with her always to be, And joy of love to send her evermore; And s.h.i.+eld us from the Cuckoo and her lore, For there is not so false a bird as she. 260

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. 265

LIV The Cuckoo--'tis 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 can not abide. 270

LV Then spake one Bird, and full a.s.sent 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. 275