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Home  »  library  »  poem  »  From Luis de Góngora—Not All Nightingales

C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

From Luis de Góngora—Not All Nightingales

By Sir John Bowring (1792–1872)

From ‘Ancient Poetry and Romances of Spain’

THEY are not all sweet nightingales,

That fill with songs the flowery vales;

But they are little silver bells,

Touched by the winds in smiling dells;

Magic bells of gold in the grove,

Forming a chorus for her I love.

Think not the voices in the air

Are from the winged Sirens fair,

Playing among the dewy trees,

Chanting their morning mysteries;

Oh! if you listen, delighted there,

To their music scattered o’er the dales,

They are not all sweet nightingales,

That fill with songs the flowery vales;

But they are the little silver bells

Touched by the winds in the smiling dells;

Magic bells of gold in the grove,

Forming a chorus for her I love.

Oh! ’twas a lovely song—of art

To charm—of nature to touch the heart;

Sure ’twas some Shepherd’s pipe, which, played

By passion, fills the forest shade:

No! ’tis music’s diviner part

Which o’er the yielding spirit prevails.

They are not all sweet nightingales,

That fill with songs the flowery vales;

But they are the little silver bells

Touched by the winds in the smiling dells;

Magic bells of gold in the grove,

Forming a chorus for her I love.

In the eye of love, which all things sees,

The fragrance-breathing jasmine trees—

And the golden flowers—and the sloping hill—

And the ever-melancholy rill—

Are full of holiest sympathies,

And tell of love a thousand tales.

They are not all sweet nightingales,

That fill with songs the flowery vales,

But they are the little silver bells

Touched by the winds in the smiling dells;

Magic bells of gold in the grove,

Forming a chorus for her I love.