"Fie," quoth she, "on thy name, Bird ill beseen!
The God of Love afflict thee with all teen,
For thou art worse than mad a thousandfold;
For many a one hath virtues manifold
Who had been nought, if Love had never been.

39.
"For evermore his servants Love amendeth,
And he from every blemish them defendeth;
And maketh them to burn, as in a fire,
In loyalty and worshipful desire,
And when it likes him, joy enough them sendeth."

40.
"Thou Nightingale!" the Cuckoo said, "be still;
For Love no reason hath but his own will; -
For to th' untrue he oft gives ease and joy;
True lovers doth so bitterly annoy,
He lets them perish through that grievous ill.

41.
"With such a master would I never be,
For he, in sooth, is blind, and may not see,
And knows not when he hurts and when he heals;
Within this court full seldom truth avails,
So diverse in his wilfulness is he."

42.
Then of the Nightingale did I take note,
How from her inmost heart a sigh she brought,