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This attribute controls the content of the description and og:description elements. | THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE.
[THE noble vindication of true love, as an exalting, purifying,
and honour-conferring power, which Chaucer has made in "The
Court of Love," is repeated in "The Cuckoo and the
Nightingale." At the same time, the close of the poem leads up
to "The Assembly of Fowls;" for, on the appeal of the
Nightingale, the dispute between her and the Cuckoo, on the
merits and blessings of love, is referred to a parliament of birds,
to be held on the morrow after Saint Valentine's Day. True, the
assembly of the feathered tribes described by Chaucer, though
held on Saint Valentine's Day, and engaged in the discussion of
a controversy regarding love, is not occupied with the particular
cause which in the present poem the Nightingale appeals to the
parliament. But "The Cuckoo and the Nightingale" none the less
serves as a link between the two poems; indicating as it does the
nature of those controversies, in matters subject to the supreme
control of the King and Queen of Love, which in the subsequent
poem we find the courtiers, under the guise of birds, debating in
full conclave and under legal forms. Exceedingly simple in
conception, and written in a metre full of musical irregularity
and forcible freedom, "The Cuckoo and the Nightingale" yields
in vividness, delicacy, and grace to none of Chaucer's minor
poems. We are told that the poet, on the third night of May, is
sleepless, and rises early in the morning, to try if he may hear
the Nightingale sing. Wandering by a brook-side, he sits down
on the flowery lawn, and ere long, lulled by the sweet melody of
many birds and the well-according music of the stream, he falls
into a kind of doze -- "not all asleep, nor fully waking." Then
(an evil omen) he hears the Cuckoo sing before the Nightingale;
but soon he hears the Nightingale request the Cuckoo to
remove far away, and leave the place to birds that can sing. The
Cuckoo enters into a defence of her song, which becomes a
railing accusation against Love and a recital of the miseries
which Love's servants endure; the Nightingale vindicates Love
in a lofty and tender strain, but is at last overcome with sorrow
by the bitter words of the Cuckoo, and calls on the God of
Love for help. On this the poet starts up, and, snatching a stone
from the brook, throws it at the Cuckoo, who flies away full
fast. The grateful Nightingale promises that, for this service, she
will be her champion's singer all that May; she warns him
against believing the Cuckoo, the foe of Love; and then, having
sung him one of her new songs, she flies away to all the other
birds that are in that dale, assembles them, and demands that
they should do her right upon the Cuckoo. By one assent it is
agreed that a parliament shall be held, "the morrow after Saint
Valentine's Day," under a maple before the window of Queen
Philippa at Woodstock, when judgment shall be passed upon
the Cuckoo; then the Nightingale flies into a hawthorn, and
sings a lay of love so loud that the poet awakes. The five-line
stanza, of which the first, second, and fifth lines agree in one
rhyme, the third and fourth in another, is peculiar to this poem;
and while the prevailing measure is the decasyllabic line used in
the "Canterbury Tales," many of the lines have one or two
syllables less. The poem is given here without abridgement.]
(Transcriber's note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was
not the author of this poem)
THE God of Love, ah! benedicite,
How mighty and how great a lord is he! <1>
For he can make of lowe heartes high,
And of high low, and like for to die,
And harde heartes he can make free.
He can make, within a little stound,* *moment
Of sicke folke whole, and fresh, and sound,
And of the whole he can make sick;
He can bind, and unbinden eke,
What he will have bounden or unbound.
To tell his might my wit may not suffice;
For he can make of wise folk full nice,* -- *foolish
For he may do all that he will devise, --
And lither* folke to destroye vice, *idle, vicious
And proude heartes he can make agrise.* *tremble
Shortly, all that ever he will he may;
Against him dare no wight say nay;
For he can glad and grieve *whom him liketh.* *whom he pleases*
And who that he will, he laugheth or siketh,* *sigheth
And most his might he sheddeth ever in May.
For every true gentle hearte free,
That with him is, or thinketh for to be,
Against May now shall have some stirring,* *impulse
Either to joy, or else to some mourning,
In no season so much, as thinketh me.
For when that they may hear the birdes sing,
And see the flowers and the leaves spring,
That bringeth into hearte's remembrance
A manner ease, *medled with grievance,* *mingled with sorrow*
And lusty thoughtes full of great longing.
And of that longing cometh heaviness,
And thereof groweth greate sickeness,
And <2> for the lack of that that they desire:
And thus in May be heartes set on fire,
So that they brennen* forth in great distress. *burn
I speake this of feeling truely;
If I be old and unlusty,
Yet I have felt the sickness thorough May |