English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 139. The Nightingale |
| | | Richard Barnfield (1574–1627) |
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| AS it fell upon a day | |
| In the merry month of May, | |
| Sitting in a pleasant shade | |
| Which a grove of myrtles made, | |
| Beasts did leap and birds did sing, | 5 |
| Trees did grow and plants did spring; | |
| Every thing did banish moan | |
| Save the Nightingale alone. | |
| She, poor bird, as all forlorn, | |
| Lean’d her breast up-till a thorn, | 10 |
| And there sung the dolefull’st ditty | |
| That to hear it was great pity. | |
| Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry; | |
| Tereu, tereu, by and by: | |
| That to hear her so complain | 15 |
| Scarce I could from tears refrain; | |
| For her griefs so lively shown | |
| Made me think upon mine own. | |
| —Ah, thought I, thou mourn’st in vain, | |
| None takes pity on thy pain: | 20 |
| Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee, | |
| Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee; | |
| King Pandion, he is dead, | |
| All thy friends are lapp’d in lead: | |
| All thy fellow birds do sing | 25 |
| Careless of thy sorrowing: | |
| Even so, poor bird, like thee | |
| None alive will pity me. | |
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