“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 show 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 show to God their praise and love
And honour to Him bring;
And owls by nature reft of song
Yet show 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.”
Now while this song did last it seemed to me as if nightingale, owl, and echo had of a truth joined therein, and had I ever heard the morning star or had been able to play its melody on my bagpipe, I had surely run out of the hut to take my trick also, so sweet did this harmony seem to me: yet I fell asleep again and woke not till day was far advanced, when the hermit stood before me and said, “Up, child, I will give thee to eat and thereafter show thee the way through the wood, so that thou comest to where people dwell, and also before night to the nearest village.”
So I asked him, what be these things, “people” and “village”?
“What,” says he, “hast never been in any village and knowest not what people or folks be?”
“Nay,” said I, “nowhere save here have I been: yet tell me what be these things, folk and people and village.”
“God save us,” answered the hermit, “art thou demented or very cunning?”
“Nay,” said I, “I am my mammy’s and dad’s boy, and neither Master Demented nor Master Cunning.”
Then the hermit showed his amazement with sighs and crossing of himself, and says he, “ ’Tis well, dear child, I am determined if God will better to instruct thee.”
So then our questions and answers fell out as the ensuing chapter showeth.
VIII
How Simplicissimus by His Noble Discourse Proclaimed His Excellent Qualities
| Hermit | What is thy name? |
| Simplicissimus | My name is “Lad.” |
| Hermit | I can see well enough that thou art no girl: but how did thy father and mother call thee? |
| Simplicissimus | I never had either father or mother. |
| Hermit | Who gave thee then thy shirt? |
| Simplicissimus | Oho! Why, my mammy. |
| Hermit | What did thy mother call thee? |
| Simplicissimus | She called me “Lad,” ay, and “rogue, silly gaby, and gallowsbird.” |
| Hermit | Who, then, was thy mammy’s husband? |
| Simplicissimus | No one. |
| Hermit | With whom, then, did thy mammy sleep at night? |
| Simplicissimus | With my dad. |
| Hermit | What did thy dad call thee? |
| Simplicissimus | He called me “Lad.” |
| Hermit | What was his name? |
| Simplicissimus | His name was Dad. |
| Hermit | What did thy mammy call him? |
| Simplicissimus | Dad, and sometimes also “Master.” |
| Hermit | Did she never call him aught besides? |
| Simplicissimus | Yea, that did she. |
| Hermit | And what then? |
| Simplicissimus | “Beast,” “coarse brute,” “drunken pig,” and other the like, when she would scold him. |
| Hermit | Thou beest but an ignorant creature, that knowest not thy parents’ name nor thine own. |
| Simplicissimus | Oho! neither dost thou know it. |
| Hermit | Canst thou say thy prayers? |
| Simplicissimus | Nay, my mammy and our Ursel did uprear the beds. |
| Hermit | I ask thee not that, but whether thou knowest thy Paternoster? |
| Simplicissimus | That do I. |
| Hermit | Say it then. |
| Simplicissimus | Our father which art heaven, hallowed be name, to thy kingdom come, thy will come down on earth as it says heaven, give us debts as we give our debtors: lead us not into no temptation, but deliver us from the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever. Amen. |
| Hermit | God help us! Knowest thou naught of our Blessed Lord God? |
| Simplicissimus | Yea, yea: ’tis he that stood by our chamber-door; my mammy brought him home from the church feast and stuck him up there. |
| Hermit | O Gracious God, now for the first time do I perceive what a great favour and benefit it is when Thou impartest knowledge of Thyself, and how naught a man is to whom Thou givest it not! O Lord, vouchsafe to me so to honour Thy holy name that I be worthy to be as zealous in my thanks for this great grace as Thou hast been liberal in the granting of it. Hark now, Simplicissimus (for I can call thee by no other name), when thou sayest thy Paternoster, thou must say this: “Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name: Thy kingdom come: Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven: give us this day our daily bread …” |
| Simplicissimus | Oho there! ask for cheese too! |
| Hermit | Ah, dear child, keep silence and learn that thou needest more than cheese: thou art indeed loutish, as thy mammy told thee: ’tis not the part of lads like thee to interrupt an old man, but to be silent, to listen, and to learn. Did I but know where thy parents dwelt, I would fain bring thee to them, and then teach them how to bring up children. |
| Simplicissimus | I know not whither to go. Our house is burnt, and my mammy ran off and was fetched back with |
