It readily would learn My Lord and God has lent. Thou thoughtest how that it might well To mickle profit turn, If English folk, for love of Christ, And follow it, fulfilling it With thought, with word, with deed, And therefore yearnedst thou that I And I have forwarded it for thee, And since the holy gospel book All this goodness shows us, This sevenfold good that Christ to us And therefore have I rendered it 20 To win through Christ in Christendom The soul's salvation true. And God almighty give us might And wish and wit and will To follow well this English book That is all holy lore, 45 Those noble knights that once were bold As breath of wind pass from their place, Under the mold now lie they cold, Wither like grass and leave no trace. There's none so rich, nor none so free, But that he soon shall hence away. Nothing may ever his warrant be, Gold, nor silver, nor ermine gay. Though swift, his end he may not flee, Nor shield his life for a single day. Thus is this world, as thou may'st see, Like to the shadow that glides away. This world all passes as the wind, The love that may not here abide, Paris and Helen, where are they That were so bright and fair of face? 1 A love poem, writing, or counsel. 15 20 20 25 15 THE OWL AND THE NIGHTINGALE1 (c. 1216-1225) Once within a summer's dale, In a very secret vale, 75 Heard I 'gainst each other rail Hoary Owl and Nightingale. That strife was stiff, and stark, and strong, 5 Now 'twas soft, now loud it rung, And each bird would the other flout, 80 And all the evil mood let out; And each said of the other's way The very worst she knew to say; 10 Indeed, about each other's song The strife they waged was very strong. The Nightingale began the speech 85 From her corner in a beech: Rather it seemed the joy I heard 1 This poem and the following are examples of a popular poetic mode in the middle ages, i. e. debates or disputes. In The Owl and the Nightingale, the two birds are represented as disputing over their respective modes of life. The poem has a broad human interest, as the two birds express two opposing ideals of life: the nightingale that of the refined, joyous, pleasure-lover; the owl, that of the ascetic. The birds submit their case at last to the judgment of Nicholas of Guildford, whom some suppose to be the author of the poem. 40 Then, from a trunk that stood hard-by, There made the Owl her dwelling-place. Thou'rt like some cross-grained, crabbed wight, Thou sing'st in winter welawo! Thou sing'st as doth a hen in snow, And all she sings is but for woe: Who turns black looks on each delight, Till scarce she could her breath contain. Ready to grudge it, and to lower Half choked with rage, these words she flung: If men are happy for an hour; "What think'st thou now about my song? 46 He wishes rather to espy 425 If in my claws I held thee fast, The tears of grief in each man's eye, 430 Thou sing'st from night-fall till the morrow. But I, all bliss with me doth wake, 55 Each heart is gladder for my sake, All live in joy when I am here, 435 All wait for me to reappear. And so, mayhap, I shall at last,- "If I avoid the open sky, And shield myself in places bare, I reck not of your threats a whit. All helpless things within your power, Would tease you and would work you ill. The blossom 'gins to spring and sprede 440 445 It said: "Woe! woe! and welawoe! "Thou that once wert wont to ride High on horse with head un-bowed, Famed for prowess far and wide, As a lion fierce and proud, Where is all thy mighty pride, And thy voice that rang so loud, Why dost thou there all naked bide, Stitched within that wretched shroud? "Where is now thy broidered weed, "Where are thy castles and thy towers, Thy downy quilts and covertures, ... Now when the ghost with gruesome cheer5 49 Its head and neck did strait uprear; And said: "Where art thou now, my fere, 55 "God shaped thee in His image fair, And gave to thee both wit and skill; He trusted me unto thy care To guide according to thy will. "Placed thy pleasures to fulfill, 60 65 65 70 Surely should'st have judged beforn I must before thee bend devout, To do aught else I did not dare. 175 |