From the other side came a bevy of ladies as resplendent as the first, but crowned with fresh flowers. These were the servants of the Flower. They alighted, and began to dance in the meadow. But heavy clouds appeared in the sky, and a storm broke out. They wished to shelter themselves under the oak, but there was no more room; they ensconced themselves as they could in the hedges and among the brushwood; the rain came down and spoiled their garlands, stained their robes, and washed away their ornaments; when the sun returned, they went to ask succor from the queen of the Leaf; she, being merciful, consoled them, repaired the injury of the rain, and restored their original beauty. Then all disappears as in a dream. The lady was astonished, when suddenly a fair dame appeared and instructed her. She learned that the servants of the Leaf had lived like brave knights, and those of the Flower had loved idleness and pleasure. She promises to serve the Leaf, and came away. Is this an allegory? There is at least a lack of wit. There is no ingenious enigma; it is dominated by fancy, and the poet thinks only of displaying in quiet verse the fleeting and brilliant train which had amused his mind, and charmed his eyes. Chaucer himself, on the first of May, rises and goes out into the meadows. Love enters his heart with the balmy air; the landscape is transfigured, and the birds begin to speak: "There sate I downe among the faire flours, And saw the birds trip out of hir bours, There as they rested them all the night, They were so joyfull of the dayes light, They began of May for to done honours. "They coud that service all by rote, There was many a lovely note, Some song loud as they had plained, And some in other manner voice yfained And some all out with the ful throte. "The proyned hem and made hem right gay, And daunceden, and lepten on her spray, And evermore two and two in fere, Right so as they had chosen hem to yere, In Feverere upon saint Valentines day. "And the river that I sate upon, It made such a noise as it ron, Accordaunt with the birdes armony, Methought it was the best melody That might ben yheard of any mon."[212] This confused harmony of vague noises troubles the sense; a secret languor enters the soul. The cuckoo throws his monotonous voice like a mournful and tender sigh between the white ash-tree boles; the nightingale makes his triumphant notes roll and ring above the leafy canopy; fancy breaks in unsought, and Chaucer hears them dispute of Love. They sing alternately an antistrophic song, and the nightingale weeps for vexation to hear the cuckoo speak in depreciation of Love. He is consoled, however, by the poet's voice, seeing that he also suffers with him: "'For love and it hath doe me much wo.' 'Ye use' (quod she) 'this medicine Every day this May or thou dine Go looke upon the fresh daisie, And though thou be for wo in point to die, That shall full greatly lessen thee of thy pine.