After what manner I was helped to myself again I know not; only this, that the old man had my head on his breast and my jacket open in front, when I came to my senses. But when I saw the hermit so close to me I raised such a hideous outcry as if he would have torn the heart out of my body. Then said he, "My son, hold thy peace: be content: I do thee no harm." Yet the more he comforted me and soothed me the more I cried, "Oh, thou eatest me! Oh! thou eatest me: thou art the wolf and wilt eat me." "Nay, nay," said he, "my son, be at peace: I eat thee not." This contention lasted long, till at length I let myself so far be persuaded as to go into his hut with him, wherein was poverty the housekeeper, hunger the cook, and want clerk of the kitchen: there was my belly cheered with herbs and a draught of water, and my mind, which was altogether distraught, again brought to right reason by the old man's comfortable kindness. Thereafter then I easily allowed myself to be enticed by the charm of sweet slumber to pay my debt to nature. Now when the hermit perceived my need of sleep he left me to occupy my place in his hut alone: for one only could lie therein. So about midnight I awoke again and heard him sing the song which followeth here, which I afterwards did learn by heart. "Come, joy of night, O nightingale: Take up, take up thy cheerful tale; Sing sweet and loud and long. Come praise thine own Creator blest, When other birds are gone to rest, And now have hushed their song. (Chorus) "With thy voice loud rejoice; For so thou best canst shew thy love To God who reigns in heaven above. "For though the light of day be flown, And we in darkness dwell alone, Yet can we chant and sing Of God his power and God his might: Nor darkness hinders us nor night Our praises so to bring. Echo the wanderer makes reply And when thou singst will still be by And still repeat thy strain. All weariness she drives afar And sloth to which we prisoners are, And mocks at slumber's chain. The stars that stand in heaven above, Do shew to God their praise and love And honour to Him bring; And owls by nature reft of song Yet shew with cries the whole night long Their love to God the king. Come hither then, sweet bird of night, For we will share no sluggard's plight Nor sleep away the hours; But, till the rosy break of day Chase from these woods the night away, God's praise shall still be ours."