The Merle said, Why put God so great beauty But gif he would that they suld lovit be? A lusty life in Lovis service been. The Nightingale said, Not to that behoof That she suld have the thank therefor or luve, O Nightingale! it were a story nice, 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 love 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; The Merle said, Love is cause of honour aye, Love makis wretches full of largéness, Love makis sweir folks full of business, Love makis sluggards fresh and well be seen, Love changes vice in virtuous nobleness; A lusty life in Lovis service been. The Nightingale said, True is the contrary; In false vain glory they so drunken are, Their wit is went, of woe they are not waur, While that all worship away be fro' them gone, Fame, goods, and strength; wherefore well say I daur, All love is lost but upon God alone. H Then said the Merle, Mine error I confess : This frustis love is all but vanity: Wherefore I counsel every man that he With love not in the feindis net be tone, But love the love that did for his love die: All love is lost but upon God alone. Then sang they both with voices loud and clear, The Merle said, Love him that thy love has sought Then flew thir birdis o'er the boughis sheen, Singing of love amang the leavis small; 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 ; All love is lost but upon God alone. "BLAME NOT MY LUTE." BY SIR THOMAS WYATT. [SIK THOMAS WYATT was born at Allington Castle, in Kent, in 1503. He was educated at Cambridge and Oxford, and afterwards travelled through Europe. Wyatt was a great favourite of Henry VIII. and confirmed that monarch's resolution to abandon the Church of Rome, by exclaiming jocosely, "Lord! that a man cannot repent him of his sins, without the pope's leave." But, through being suspected of too great intimacy with Anne Boleyn, he lost the king's confidence, and was imprisoned on a charge of carrying on a treasonable correspondence with Cardinal Pole. He was, however, restored to favour, and was appointed to conduct the Ambassador of Charles V. to Court; when, riding too fast from Falmouth, on a hot day, he took a fever, of which he died in 1541. His love, as appears from his poems, was not prosperous; but he did not take his bad fortune much to heart; he the lover who waxeth wyser, and will not die for affection."] was BLAME not my Lute! for he must sound Of this or that as liketh me; For lack of wit the Lute is bound To give such tunes as pleaseth me; Though my songs be somewhat strange, And speak such words as touch my change, My Lute, alas! doth not offend, To sing to them that heareth me; My Lute and strings may not deny, But wreak thyself some other way; Spite asketh spite, and changing change, And falsed faith, must needs be known; |