Under this branch ran down a river bright, Again' the heavenly azure skyis light, With notis glad, and glorious harmony, Ne'er sweeter noise was heard with living man, Out through the fresh and flourished lusty vale; Cease, quoth the Merle, thy preaching, Nightingale : Shall folk their youth spend into holiness? Of young sanctís, grows auld feindís, but fable; Again' the law of kind thou goes express, The Nightingale said, Fool, remember thee, And love is lost but upon him alone. The Merle said, Why put God so great beauty In ladies, with sic womanly having, But gif he would that they suld lovit be? To love eke nature gave them incliníng, And He of nature that worker was and king, The Nightingale said, Not to that behoof That she suld have the thank therefor or luve, O Nightingale! it were a story nice, That love suld not depend on charity; And, gif that virtue contrar be to vice, Then love maun be a virtue, as thinks me; For, aye, to love envy maun contrar' be: God bade eke love thy neighbour fro the spleen; And who than ladies sweeter neighbours be? A lusty life in Lovis service been. The Nightingale said, Bird, why does thou rave? Man may take in his lady sic delight, Him to forget that her sic virtue gave, And for his heaven receive her colour white: Her golden tressit hairis redomite, Like to Apollo's beamis tho' they shone, Suld not him blind fro' love that is perfite; All love is lost but upon God alone. The Merle said, Love is cause of honour aye, Love makis knichtis hardy at essay, Love makis sweir folks full of business, Love makis sluggards fresh and well be seen, The Nightingale said, True is the contrary; Sic frustis love it blindis men so far, Into their minds it makis them to vary; In false vain glory they so drunken are, Fame, goods, and strength; wherefore well say I daur, Then said the Merle, Mine error I confess : This frustis love is all but vanity : Wherefore I counsel every man that he Then sang they both with voices loud and clear; The Merle sang, Man, love God that has thee wrought. The Nightingale sang, Man, love the Lord most dear, That thee and all this world made of nought. The Merle said, Love him that thy love has sought Then flew thir birdis o'er the boughis sheen, Whose eidant plead yet made my thoughtis grein, Again for love, when love I can find none, To think how sung this Merle and Nightingale; ΤΟ SONNETS FROM SHAKSPEARE. No longer mourn for me when I am dead, Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world, that I am fled The hand that writ it: for I love you so, That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, |