Marie de France - Laüstic (The Nightingale) lyrics

I shall tell you an adventure about which the Bretons made a lai. Laüstic was the name, I think, they gave it in their land. In French it is rossignol, and nightingale in proper English. At Saint-Malo, in that country, there was a famous city. Two nights lived there, they both had strong houses. From the goodness of the two barons the city acquired a good name. One had married a woman wise, courtly, and handsome; she set a wonderfully high value on herself within the bounds of custom and usage. The other was a bachelor, well known among his peers for bravery and great valor; he delighted in living well. He jousted often, spent widely and gave out what he had. He also loved his neighbor's wife; he asked her, begged her so persistently, and there was such good in him, that she loved him more than anything, as much for the good that she heard of him as because he was close by. They loved each other discreetly and well, concealed themselves and took care that they weren't seen or disturbed or suspected. And they could do this well enough since their dwellings were close, their houses were next door, and so were their rooms and their towers; there was no barrier or boundary except a high wall of dark stone. From the rooms where the lady slept, if she went to the window she could talk to her love on the other side, and he to her, and they could exchange their possessions, by tossing and throwing them. There was scarcely anything to disturb them, they were both quite at ease; except that they couldn't come together completely for their pleasure, for the lady was closely guarded when her husband was in the country. Yet they always managed, whether at night or in the day, to be able to talk together; no one could prevent their coming to the window and seeing each other there. For a long time they loved each other, until one summer when the woods and meadows were green and the orchards blooming. The little birds, with great sweetness, were voicing their joy above the flowers. It is no wonder if he understands them, he who has love to his desire. I'll tell you the truth about the knight: he listened to them intently and to the lady on the other side, both with words and looks. At night, when the moon shone when her lord was in bed, she often rose from his side and wrapped herself in a cloak. She went to the window because of her lover, who, she knew, was leading the same life, awake most of the night. Each took pleasure in the other's sight since they could have nothing more; but she got up and stood there so often that her lord grew angry and began to question her, to ask why she got up and where she went. "My lord," the lady answered him, "there is no joy in this world like hearing the nightingale sing. That's why I stand there. It sounds so sweet at night that it gives me great pleasure; it delights me so and I so desire it that I cannot close my eyes." When her lord heard what she said he laughed in anger and ill will. He set his mind on one thing: to trap the nightingale. There was no valet in his house that he didn't set to making traps, nets, or snares, which he then had placed in the orchard; there was no hazel tree or chestnut where they did not place a snare or lime until they trapped and captured him. When they had caught the nightingale, they brought it, still alive, to the lord. He was very happy when he had it; he came to the lady's chambers. "Lady," he said, "where are you? Come here! Speak to us! I have trapped the nightingale that kept you awake so much. From now on you can lie in peace: he will never again awaken you." When the lady heard him, she was sad and angry. She asked her lord for the bird but he k**ed it out of spite, he broke its neck in his hands-- too vicious an act-- and threw the body on the lady; her shift was stained with blood, a little, on her breast. Then he left the room. The lady took the little body; she wept hard and cursed those who betrayed the nightingale, who made the traps and snares for they took great joy from her. "Alas," she said, "now I must suffer. I won't be able to get up at night or go and stand in the window where I used to see my love. I know one thing for certain: he'd think I was pretending. I must decide what to do about this. I shall send him the nightingale and relate the adventure." In a piece of samite, embroidered with gold and writing, she wrapped the little bird. She called one of her servants, charged him with her message, and sent him to her love. He came to the knight, greeted him in the name of the lady, related the whole message to him, and presented the nightingale. When everything had been told and revealed to the knight, after he had listened well, he was very sad about the adventure, but he wasn't mean or hesitant. He had a small vessel fashioned, with no iron or steel in it; it was all pure gold and good stones, very precious and very dear; the cover was very carefully attached. He placed the nightingale inside and then he had the casket sealed-- he carried it with him always. This adventure was told, it could not be concealed for long. The Bretons made a lai about it which men call The Nightingale.