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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539993" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>From The Cuckoo And The Nightingale</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The God of Love-'ah, benedicite!'<br>How mighty and how great a Lord is he!<br>For he of low hearts can make high, of high<br>He can make low, and unto death bring nigh;<br>And hard-hearts he can make them kind and free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within a little time, as hath been found,<br>He can make sick folk whole and fresh and sound:<br>Them who are whole in body and in mind,<br>He can make sick,-bind can he and unbind<br>All that he will have bound, or have unbound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To tell his might my wit may not suffice;<br>Foolish men he can make them out of wise;-<br>For he may do all that he will devise;<br>Loose livers he can make abate their vice,<br>And proud hearts can make tremble in a trice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In brief, the whole of what he will, he may;<br>Against him dare not any wight say nay;<br>To humble or afflict whome'er he will,<br>To gladden or to grieve, he hath like skill;<br>But most his might he sheds on the eve of May.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For every true heart, gentle heart and free,<br>That with him is, or thinketh so to be,<br>Now against May shall have some stirring-whether<br>To joy, or be it to some mourning; never<br>At other time, methinks, in like degree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For now when they may hear the small birds' song,<br>And see the budding leaves the branches throng,<br>This unto their remembrance doth bring<br>All kinds of pleasure mixed with sorrowing;<br>And longing of sweet thoughts that ever long.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And of that longing heaviness doth come,<br>Whence oft great sickness grows of heart and home:<br>Sick are they all for lack of their desire;<br>And thus in May their hearts are set on fire,<br>So that they burn forth in great martyrdom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In sooth, I speak from feeling, what though now<br>Old am I, and to genial pleasure slow;<br>Yet have I felt of sickness through the May,<br>Both hot and cold, and heart-aches every day,-<br>How hard, alas! to bear, I only know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Such shaking doth the fever in me keep<br>Through all this May that I have little sleep;<br>And also 'tis not likely unto me,<br>That any living heart should sleepy be<br>In which Love's dart its fiery point doth steep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">X</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But tossing lately on a sleepless bed,<br>I of a token thought which Lovers heed;<br>How among them it was a common tale,<br>That it was good to hear the Nightingale,<br>Ere the vile Cuckoo's note be uttered.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then I thought anon as it was day,<br>I gladly would go somewhere to essay<br>If I perchance a Nightingale might hear,<br>For yet had I heard none, of all that year,<br>And it was then the third night of the May.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And soon as I a glimpse of day espied,<br>No longer would I in my bed abide,<br>But straightway to a wood that was hard by,<br>Forth did I go, alone and fearlessly,<br>And held the pathway down by a brookside;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till to a lawn I came all white and green,<br>I in so fair a one had never been.<br>The ground was green, with daisy powdered over;<br>Tall were the flowers, the grove a lofty cover,<br>All green and white; and nothing else was seen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There sate I down among the fair fresh flowers,<br>And saw the birds come tripping from their bowers,<br>Where they had rested them all night; and they,<br>Who were so joyful at the light of day,<br>Began to honour May with all their powers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well did they know that service all by rote,<br>And there was many and many a lovely note,<br>Some, singing loud, as if they had complained;<br>Some with their notes another manner feigned;<br>And some did sing all out with the full throat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They pruned themselves, and made themselves right gay,<br>Dancing and leaping light upon the spray;<br>And ever two and two together were,<br>The same as they had chosen for the year,<br>Upon Saint Valentine's returning day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Meanwhile the stream, whose bank I sate upon,<br>Was making such a noise as it ran on<br>Accordant to the sweet Birds' harmony;<br>Methought that it was the best melody<br>Which ever to man's ear a passage won.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And for delight, but how I never wot,<br>I in a slumber and a swoon was caught,<br>Not all asleep and yet not waking wholly;<br>And as I lay, the Cuckoo, bird unholy,<br>Broke silence, or I heard him in my thought.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XIX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And that was right upon a tree fast by,<br>And who was then ill satisfied but I?<br>Now, God, quoth I, that died upon the rood,<br>From thee and thy base throat, keep all that's good,<br>Full little joy have I now of thy cry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, as I with the Cuckoo thus 'gan chide,<br>In the next bush that was me fast beside,<br>I heard the lusty Nightingale so sing,<br>That her clear voice made a loud rioting,<br>Echoing thorough all the green wood wide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! good sweet Nightingale! for my heart's cheer,<br>Hence hast thou stayed a little while too long;<br>For we have had the sorry Cuckoo here,<br>And she hath been before thee with her song;<br>Evil light on her! she hath done me wrong.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But hear you now a wondrous thing, I pray;<br>As long as in that swooning-fit I lay,<br>Methought I wist right well what these birds meant,<br>And had good knowing both of their intent,<br>And of their speech, and all that they would say.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Nightingale thus in my hearing spake:-<br>Good Cuckoo, seek some other bush or brake,<br>And, prithee, let us that can sing dwell here;<br>For every wight eschews thy song to hear,<br>Such uncouth singing verily dost thou make.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What! quoth she then, what is't that ails thee now?<br>It seems to me I sing as well as thou;<br>For mine's a song that is both true and plain,-<br>Although I cannot quaver so in vain<br>As thou dost in thy throat, I wot not how.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All men may understanding have of me,<br>But, Nightingale, so may they not of thee;<br>For thou hast many a foolish and quaint cry:-<br>Thou say'st OSEE, OSEE, then how may I<br>Have knowledge, I thee pray, what this may be?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, fool! quoth she, wist thou not what it is?<br>Oft as I say OSEE, OSEE, I wis,<br>Then mean I, that I should be wonderous fain<br>That shamefully they one and all were slain,<br>Whoever against Love mean aught amiss.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And also would I that they all were dead,<br>Who do not think in love their life to lead;<br>For who is loth the God of Love to obey,<br>Is only fit to die, I dare well say,<br>And for that cause OSEE I cry; take heed!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ay, quoth the Cuckoo, that is a quaint law,<br>That all must love or die; but I withdraw,<br>And take my leave of all such company,<br>For mine intent it neither is to die,<br>Nor ever while I live Love's yoke to draw.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXIX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For lovers of all folk that be alive,<br>The most disquiet have and least do thrive;<br>Most feeling have of sorrow woe and care,<br>And the least welfare cometh to their share;<br>What need is there against the truth to strive?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What! quoth she, thou art all out of thy mind,<br>That in thy churlishness a cause canst find<br>To speak of Love's true Servants in this mood;<br>For in this world no service is so good<br>To every wight that gentle is of kind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For thereof comes all goodness and all worth;<br>All gentiless and honour thence come forth;<br>Thence worship comes, content and true heart's pleasure,<br>And full-assured trust, joy without measure,<br>And jollity, fresh cheerfulness, and mirth;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And bounty, lowliness, and courtesy,<br>And seemliness, and faithful company,<br>And dread of shame that will not do amiss;<br>For he that faithfully Love's servant is,<br>Rather than be disgraced, would chuse to die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And that the very truth it is which I<br>Now say-in such belief I'll live and die;<br>And Cuckoo, do thou so, by my advice.<br>Then, quoth she, let me never hope for bliss,<br>If with that counsel I do e'er comply.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Good Nightingale! thou speakest wondrous fair,<br>Yet for all that, the truth is found elsewhere;<br>For Love in young folk is but rage, I wis:<br>And Love in old folk a great dotage is;<br>Who most it useth, him 'twill most impair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For thereof come all contraries to gladness!<br>Thence sickness comes, and overwhelming sadness,<br>Mistrust and jealousy, despite, debate,<br>Dishonour, shame, envy importunate,<br>Pride, anger, mischief, poverty, and madness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Loving is aye an office of despair,<br>And one thing is therein which is not fair;<br>For whoso gets of love a little bliss,<br>Unless it alway stay with him, I wis<br>He may full soon go with an old man's hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, therefore, Nightingale! do thou keep nigh,<br>For trust me well, in spite of thy quaint cry,<br>If long time from thy mate thou be, or far,<br>Thou'lt be as others that forsaken are;<br>Then shalt thou raise a clamour as do I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fie, quoth she, on thy name, Bird ill beseen!<br>The God of Love afflict thee with all teen,<br>For thou art worse than mad a thousand fold;<br>For many a one hath virtues manifold,<br>Who had been nought, if Love had never been.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XXXIX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For evermore his servants Love amendeth,<br>And he from every blemish them defendeth;<br>And maketh them to burn, as in a fire,<br>In loyalty, and worshipful desire,<br>And, when it likes him, joy enough them sendeth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XL</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou Nightingale! the Cuckoo said, be still,<br>For Love no reason hath but his own will;-<br>For to th' untrue he oft gives ease and joy;<br>True lovers doth so bitterly annoy,<br>He lets them perish through that grievous ill.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With such a master would I never be;<br>For he, in sooth, is blind, and may not see,<br>And knows not when he hurts and when he heals;<br>Within this court full seldom Truth avails,<br>So diverse in his wilfulness is he.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then of the Nightingale did I take note,<br>How from her inmost heart a sigh she brought,<br>And said, Alas! that ever I was born,<br>Not one word have I now, I am so forlorn,-<br>And with that word, she into tears burst out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas, alas! my very heart will break,<br>Quoth she, to hear this churlish bird thus speak<br>Of Love, and of his holy services;<br>Now, God of Love; thou help me in some wise,<br>That vengeance on this Cuckoo I may wreak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so methought I started up anon,<br>And to the brook I ran and got a stone,<br>Which at the Cuckoo hardily I cast,<br>And he for dread did fly away full fast;<br>And glad, in sooth, was I when he was gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And as he flew, the Cuckoo, ever and aye,<br>Kept crying 'Farewell!-farewell, Popinjay!'<br>As if in scornful mockery of me;<br>And on I hunted him from tree to tree,<br>Till he was far, all out of sight, away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then straightway came the Nightingale to me,<br>And said, Forsooth, my friend, do I thank thee,<br>That thou wert near to rescue me; and now,<br>Unto the God of Love I make a vow,<br>That all this May I will thy songstress be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well satisfied, I thanked her, and she said,<br>By this mishap no longer be dismayed,<br>Though thou the Cuckoo heard, ere thou heard'st me;<br>Yet if I live it shall amended be,<br>When next May comes, if I am not afraid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And one thing will I counsel thee also,<br>The Cuckoo trust not thou, nor his Love's saw;<br>All that she said is an outrageous lie.<br>Nay, nothing shall me bring thereto, quoth I,<br>For Love, and it hath done me mighty woe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">XLIX</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, hath it? use, quoth she, this medicine;<br>This May-time, every day before thou dine,<br>Go look on the fresh daisy; then say I,<br>Although for pain thou may'st be like to die,<br>Thou wilt be eased, and less wilt droop and pine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">L</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And mind always that thou be good and true,<br>And I will sing one song, of many new,<br>For love of thee, as loud as I may cry;<br>And then did she begin this song full high,<br>'Beshrew all them that are in love untrue.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And soon as she had sung it to the end,<br>Now farewell, quoth she, for I hence must wend;<br>And, God of Love, that can right well and may,<br>Send unto thee as mickle joy this day,<br>As ever he to Lover yet did send.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus takes the Nightingale her leave of me;<br>I pray to God with her always to be,<br>And joy of love to send her evermore;<br>And shield us from the Cuckoo and her lore,<br>For there is not so false a bird as she.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Forth then she flew, the gentle Nightingale,<br>To all the Birds that lodged within that dale,<br>And gathered each and all into one place;<br>And them besought to hear her doleful case,<br>And thus it was that she began her tale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LIV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Cuckoo-'tis not well that I should hide<br>How she and I did each the other chide,<br>And without ceasing, since it was daylight;<br>And now I pray you all to do me right<br>Of that false Bird whom Love can not abide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then spake one Bird, and full assent all gave;<br>This matter asketh counsel good as grave,<br>For birds we are-all here together brought;<br>And, in good sooth, the Cuckoo here is not;<br>And therefore we a Parliament will have.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LVI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thereat shall the Eagle be our Lord,<br>And other Peers whose names are on record;<br>A summons to the Cuckoo shall be sent,<br>And judgment there be given; or that intent<br>Failing, we finally shall make accord.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LVII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And all this shall be done, without a nay,<br>The morrow after Saint Valentine's day,<br>Under a maple that is well beseen,<br>Before the chamber-window of the Queen,<br>At Woodstock, on the meadow green and gay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">LVIII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She thanked them; and then her leave she took,<br>And flew into a hawthorn by that brook;<br>And there she sate and sung-upon that tree-<br>'For term of life Love shall have hold of me'-<br>So loudly, that I with that song awoke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unlearned Book and rude, as well I know,<br>For beauty thou hast none, nor eloquence,<br>Who did on thee the hardiness bestow<br>To appear before my Lady? but a sense<br>Thou surely hast of her benevolence,<br>Whereof her hourly bearing proof doth give;<br>For of all good she is the best alive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas, poor Book! for thy unworthiness,<br>To show to her some pleasant meanings writ<br>In winning words, since through her gentiless,<br>Thee she accepts as for her service fit!<br>Oh! it repents me I have neither wit<br>Nor leisure unto thee more worth to give;<br>For of all good she is the best alive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beseech her meekly with all lowliness,<br>Though I be far from her I reverence,<br>To think upon my truth and stedfastness,<br>And to abridge my sorrow's violence,<br>Caused by the wish, as knows your sapience,<br>She of her liking proof to me would give;<br>For of all good she is the best alive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">L'ENVOY</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pleasure's Aurora, Day of gladsomeness!<br>Luna by night, with heavenly influence<br>Illumined! root of beauty and goodnesse,<br>Write, and allay, by your beneficence,<br>My sighs breathed forth in silence,-comfort give!<br>Since of all good, you are the best alive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">EXPLICIT</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Wordsworth">William Wordsworth</a><div class=q>
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The God of Love-'ah, benedicite!'
How mighty and how great a Lord is he!
For he of low hearts can make high, of high
He can make low, and unto death bring nigh;
And hard-hearts he can make them kind and free.

II

Within a little time, as hath ..."></div>
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