Under this branch ran down a river bright,
Of balmy liquor, crystalline of hue,

Again' the heavenly azure skyis light,
Where did upon the tother side pursue
A Nightingale, with sugared notis new,
Whose angel feathers as the peacock shone,
This was her song, and of a sentence true-
All love is lost but upon God alone.

With notis glad, and glorious harmony,
This joyful Merle, so salust she the day,
While rung the woodis of her melody,
Saying, Awake, ye lovers of this May;
Lo, fresh Flora has flourished every spray,
As nature has her taught, the noble queen,
The field been clothit in a new array;
A lusty life in Lovis service been.

Ne'er sweeter noise was heard with living man,
Na made this merry gentle Nightingale;
Her sound went with the river as it ran,

Out through the fresh and flourished lusty vale;
O Merle quoth she, O fool! stint of thy tale,
For in thy song good sentence is there none,
For both is tint, the time and the travail
Of every love but upon God alone.

Cease, quoth the Merle, thy preaching, Nightingale : Shall folk their youth spend into holiness?

Of young sanctís, grows auld feindís, but fable;
Fye, hypocrite, in yeiris tenderness,

Again' the law of kind thou goes express,
That crookit age makes one with youth serene
Whom nature of conditions made diverse :
A lusty life in Lovis service been.

The Nightingale said, Fool, remember thee,
That both in youth and eild, and every hour,
The love of God most dear to man suld be;
That him, of nought, wrought like his own figour
And died himself, fro' dead him to succour;
O, whether was kythit there true love or none?
He is most true and stedfast paramour,

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,
Would nothing frustir put, nor let be seen,
Into his creature of his own making;
A lusty life in Lovis service been.

The Nightingale said, Not to that behoof
Put God sic beauty in a lady's face,

That she suld have the thank therefor or luve,
But He, the worker, that put in her sic grace;
Of beauty, bounty, riches, time, or space,
And every gudeness that been to come or gone
The thank redounds to him in every place:
All love is lost, but upon God alone.

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 cowards manhood to purchase,

Love makis knichtis hardy at essay,
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; Sic frustis love it blindis men so far,

Into their minds it makis them to vary;

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.

Then said the Merle, Mine error I confess :

This frustis love is all but vanity :
Blind ignorance me gave sic hardiness,
To argue so again' the verity;

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 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
Fro' heaven to earth, and here took flesh and bone.
The Nightingale sang, And with his dead thee bought :
All love is lost, but upon him alone.

Then flew thir birdis o'er the boughis sheen,
Singing of love amang the leavis small;

Whose eidant plead yet made my thoughtis grein,
Both sleeping, waking, in rest and in travail :
Me to recomfort most it does avail,

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.

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
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell!
Nay, if you read this line, remember not

The hand that writ it: for I love you so,

That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O if (I say) you look upon this verse,
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,