The Captive Knight and the Blackbird

'Tis now, they say, the month of May, 'tis now the moons are bright;
'Tis now the maids, 'mong greenwood shades, sit with their loves by night;
'Tis now the hearts of lovers true are glad the groves among;
'Tis now they sit the long night through, and list the thrush's song.

"Woe dwells with me, in spite of thee, thou gladsome month of May;
I cannot see what stars there be, I know not night from day.
There was a bird, whose voice I heard, oh, sweet my small bird sung,
I heard its tune when night was gone, and up the morning sprung.

"To comfort me in darkness bound, comes now no voice of cheer,
Long have I listen'd for the sound, there is no bird to hear.
Sweet bird! he had a cruel heart, whose steel thy bosom tore;
A ruffian hand discharged the dart, that makes thee sing no more.

"I am the vassal of my King—it never shall be said
That I even hence a curse could fling against my liege's head;
But if the jailer slew my merle, no sin is in the word,
God look in anger on the churl that harm'd my harmless bird!

"O, should some kindly Christian bring another bird to me,
Thy tune I in his ear would sing till he could sing like thee;
But were a dove within my choice, my song would soon be o'er,
For he would understand my voice, and fly to Leonore.

"He would fly swiftly through the air, and though he could not speak,—
He'd ask a file, which he could bear within his little beak;
Had I a file, these fetters vile I from my wrist would break,
And see right soon the fair May moon shine on my lady's cheek,"—

It chanced while a poor captive knight, within yon dungeon strong,
Lamented thus the arrow's flight that stopp'd his blackbird's song,
(Unknown to him) The King was near; he heard him through the wall,—
"Nay, since he has no merle to hear, 'tis time his fetters fall."—