Ne'er sweeter noise was heard with living man, Than made this merry gentle nightingale; Her sound went with the river as it ran, Out through the fresh and flourish'd 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,[4] 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 saintis, grow old fiendis, but[5] fable; Fy, hypocrite, in yearis' tenderness, Against the law of kind[6] thou goes express, That crooked age makes one with youth serene, Whom nature of conditions made diverse: A lusty life in Love's service been.' The Nightingale said, 'Fool, remember thee, That both in youth and eild,[7] and every hour, The love of God most dear to man should be; That him, of nought, wrought like his own figour, And died himself, from death him to succour; Oh, whether was kythit[8] there true love or none? He is most true and steadfast paramour, And love is lost but upon him alone.' The Merle said, 'Why put God so great beauty In ladies, with such womanly having, But if he would that they should loved be? To love eke nature gave them inclining, And He of nature that worker was and king, Would nothing frustir[9] put, nor let be seen, Into his creature of his own making; A lusty life in Love's service been.' The Nightingale said, 'Not to that behoof Put God such beauty in a lady's face, That she should have the thank therefor or love, But He, the worker, that put in her such grace; Of beauty, bounty, riches, time, or space, And every goodness 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 should not depend on charity; And, if that virtue contrar' be to vice, Then love must be a virtue, as thinks me; For, aye, to love envy must contrar' be: God bade eke love thy neighbour from the spleen;[10] And who than ladies sweeter neighbours be? A lusty life in Love's service been.' The Nightingale said, 'Bird, why does thou rave? Man may take in his lady such delight, Him to forget that her such virtue gave, And for his heaven receive her colour white: Her golden tressed hairis redomite,[11] Like to Apollo's beamis though they shone, Should not him blind from 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 knightis hardy at essay, Love makis wretches full of largeness, Love makis sweir[12] folks full of business, Love makis sluggards fresh and well beseen,[13] Love changes vice in virtuous nobleness; A lusty life in Love's service been.'