The Goliards were vagrant students and clerks who flourished in the 12th and 13th centuries.

They
composed their lyrics in Latin

Dum Diana Vitrea (Carmina Burana 62)

Dum Diana vitrea When the lamp of Cynthia late

sero lampas oritur, Rises in her silver state,
et a fratris rosea Through her brother’s roseate light,
luce dum succenditur, Blushing on the brows of night;
dulcis aura Zephiri Then the pure ethereal air
spirans omnes etheri Breathes with zephyr blowing fair;
nubes tollit, Clouds and vapours disappear.
sic emollit As with chords of lute and lyre,
vi[s] chordarum pectora, Soothed the spirits now respire,
et immutat And the heart revives again
cor, quod nutat Which once more for love is fain.
ad amoris pignora. But the orient evening star
Sheds with influence kindlier far
Letum iubar Hesperi Dews of sweet sleep on the eye
gratiorem Of o’er-tired mortality.
dat humorem
roris soporiferi Oh, how blessed to take and keep
mortalium generi. Is the antidote of sleep!
Sleep that lulls the storms of care
O quam felix est And of sorrow unaware,
antidotum soporis, Creeping through the closèd doors
quot curarum tempestates Of the eyes, and through the pores
sedat et doloris! Breathing bliss so pure and rare
Dum surrepit clausis That with love it may compare.
oculorum poris,
ipsum gaudio equiperat Then the god of dreams doth bring
dulcedini amoris. To the mind some restful thing,
Breezes soft that rippling blow
Orpheus [Morpheus] in mentem O’er ripe cornfields row by row,
trahit impellentem Murmuring rivers round whose brim
ventum lenem, Silvery sands the swallows skim,
segetes maturas, Or the drowsy circling sound
murmura rivorum Of old mill-wheels going round,
per harenas puras, Which with music steal the mind
circulares ambitus molendinorum, And the eyes in slumber bind.
qui furantur somno lumen
oculorum. When the deeds of love are done
Which bland Venus had begun,
Post blanda Veneris conmercia Languor steals with pleasant strain
lassatur cerebri substantia; Through the chambers of the brain,
hinc caligant Eyes ’neath eyelids gently tired
mira novitate Swim and seek the rest desired.
oculi nantes How deliciously at last
in palpebrarum rate. Into slumber love hath passed!
Hei quam felix transitus But how sweeter yet the way
amoris ad soporem, Which leads love again to play!
sed suavior
regressus ad amorem! From the soothed limbs upward spread
Glides a mist divinely shed,
Ex alvo leta Which invades the heart and head:
fumus evaporat, Drowsily it veils the eyes,
Bending toward sleep’s paradise,
qui capitis tres And with curling vapour round
cellulas irrorat; Fills the lids, the senses swound,
hic infumat oculos Till the visual ray is bound
ad soporem pendulos, By those ministers which make
et palpabras Life renewed in man awake.
sua fumositate
replet, ne visus Underneath the leafy shade
exspacietur late; Of a tree in quiet laid,
unde ligant oculos While the nightingale complains
virtutes animales, Singing of her ancient pains,
que sunt magis Sweet it is still hours to pass,
vise ministeriales. But far sweeter on the grass
With a buxom maid to play
Fronde sub arboris amena, All a summer’s holiday.
dum querens canit Philomena, When the scent of herb and flower
suave est quiescere, Breathes upon the silent hour,
suavius ludere When the rose with leaf and bloom
in gramine Spreads a couch of pure perfume,
cum virgine Then the grateful boon of sleep
spetiosa. Falls with satisfaction deep,
Si variarum Showering dews our eyes above,
odor herbarum Tired with honeyed strife of love.
spiraverit,
si dederit In how many moods the mind
thorum rosa, Of poor lovers, weak and blind,
dulciter soporis alimonia Wavers like the wavering wind!
post Veneris defessa commercia As a ship in darkness lost,
captatur, Without anchor tempest-tossed,
dum lassis instillatur. So with hope and fear imbued
It roams in great incertitude
O in quantis Love’s tempestuous ocean-flood.
animus amantis
variatur Tr. John Addington Symonds, (Wine, Women and Song, 1884)
vacillantis!
Ut vaga
ratis per equora,
dum caret anchora,
fluctuat inter spem
metumque dubia,
sic Veneris milicia.
 Drinking Song (The Archpoet)

Meum est propositum in taberna mori In the public-house to die

ubi vina proxima morientis ori. Is my resolution;
Tunc cantabunt laetius angelorum chori: Let wine to my lips be nigh
Deus sit propitius isti potatori, isti potatori. At life's dissolution:
That will make the angels cry,
With glad elocution,
"Grant this toper, God on high,
Grace and absolution!"
Poculis accenditur animi lucerna,
cor inbutum nectare volat ad superna. With the cup the soul lights up,
Mihi sapit dulcius vinum de taberna, Inspirations flicker;
quam quod aqua miscuit praesulis Nectar lifts the soul on high
pincerna. With its heavenly ichor:
To my lips a sounder taste
Hath the tavern's liquor
Than the wine a village clerk
Wants for the vicar.

Jejunant et abstinent poetarum chori, Nature gives to every man

vitant rixas publicas et tumultus fori, Some gift serviceable;
et, ut opus faciant, quod non possit mori, Write I never could nor can
moriuntur studio subditi labori. Hungry at the table;
Fasting, any stripling to
Vanquish me is able;
Hunger, thirst, I liken to
Death that ends the fable.
Unicuique proprium dat natura donum,
ego versus faciens bibo vinum bonum Nature gives to every man
et quod habent purius dolia cauponum; Gifts as she is willing;
tale vinum generat copiam sermonum. I compose my verses when
Good wine I am swilling,
Wine the best for jolly guest
Jolly hosts are filling;
From such wine rare fancies fine
Flow like dews distilling.
Tales versus facio, quale vinum bibo, Such my verse is wont to be
nihil possum facere, nisi sumpto cibo. As the wine I swallow;
Nihil valent penitus, quae jejunus scribo, No ripe thoughts enliven me
Nasonem post calicem carmine praeibo. While my stomach's hollow;
Hungry wits on hungry lips
Like a shadow follow,
But when once I'm in my cups,
I can beat Apollo.
Mihi nunquam spiritus poeriae datur,
Nisi prius puerit venter bene satur; Never to my spirit yet
Dum in arce cerebri Bachus dominatur, Flew poetic vision
In me Phebus irruit et miranda fatur. Until first my belly had
Plentiful provision;
Let but Bacchus in the brain
Take a strong position
Then comes Phoebus flowering in
With a fine precision.

Tr. Helen Waddell (Medieval Latin Lyrics, 1934)

 Tempus est iocundum (Carmina Burana 179)

Tempus est iocundum, Now's the time for pleasure,

o virgines, Lads and lasses,
modo congaudete Take your joy together
vos iuvenes. Ere it passes.
O.o. totus floreo, With the love of a maid
iam amore virginali Aflower,
totus ardeo, With the love of a maid
novus novus amor Afire,
est, quo pereo. New love, new love,
Dying of desire.

Cantat philomena Philomel singing

sic dulciter, So sweet,
et modalans auditur; My heart burns to hear her
intus caleo Repeat,
O.o. totus floreo... With the love of a maid
Aflower,
With the love of a maid
Afire,
New love, new love,
Dying of desire.

Flos est puellarum, Flower of all maidens,

quam diligo, My love,
et rosa rosarum, Rose o'er all roses
quam sepe video; Above.
O.o. totus floreo... With the love of a maid
Aflower,
With the love of a maid
Afire,
New love, new love,
Dying of desire.

Tua me comfortat All the sweet of life,

promissio, Thy consenting,
tua me deportat All the bitterness,
negatio. Thy repenting.
O.o. totus floreo... With the love of a maid
Aflower,
With the love of a maid
Afire,
New love, new love,
Dying of desire.

Tua mecum ludit Thy virginity

virginitas, Mocks my wooing,
uta me detrudit Thy simplicity
simplicitas. Is my undoing.
O.o. totus floreo... With the love of a maid
Aflower,
With the love of a maid
Afire,
New love, new love,
Dying of desire.
Sile, philomena, O nightingale,
pro tempore, Be still
surge cantilena For an hour,
de pectore. Till the heart sings,
O.o. totus floreo... With the love of a maid
Aflower,
With the love of a maid
Afire,
New love, new love,
Dying of desire.

Tempore brumali Patient I have been,

vir patiens, Winter long,
animo vernali Now comes wanton spring
lasciviens. With a song.
O.o. totus floreo... With the love of a maid
Aflower,
With the love of a maid
Afire,
New love, new love,
Dying of desire.

Veni, domicella, Come, mistress mine,

cum gaudio, Joy with thee,
veni, veni, bella, Come, fairest, come,
iam pereo. Love, to me.
O.o. totus floreo, With the love of a maid
iam amore virginali Aflower,
totus ardeo, With the love of a maid
novus novus amor Afire,
est, quo pereo. New love, new love,
Dying of desire.

Tr. Helen Waddell (Medieval Latin Lyrics, 1934)

Suscipe flos florem (Carmina Burana 186)

Suscipe Flos florem, Take thou this rose, O Rose,

quia flos designat amorem. Since Love's own flower it is,
illo de flore And by that rose
nimio sum captus amore. Thy lover captive is.
Hunc florem, Flora
dolcissima, semper odora, Smell thou this rose, O Rose,
nam velut aurora And know thyself as sweet
fiet tua forma decora. As dawn is sweet.
florem Flora vide,
quem dum videas, mici ride. Look on this rose, O Rose,
florem Flora tene, And looking, laugh on me,
tua vox cantus philomene. And in thy laughter's ring
Oscula des flori, The nightingale shall sing.
rubeo flos convenit ori.
Flos in pictura Kiss thou this rose, O Rose,
non est flos, immo figura; That it may know the scarlet of thy mouth.
Qui pingit florem
non pingit floris odorem. O Rose, this painted rose
Is not the whole,
Who paints the flower
Paints not its fragrant soul.

Tr. Helen Waddell (Medieval Latin Lyrics, 1934)

 At That Time: Beginning of the Holy Gospel of St. Mark of Silver
(Carmina Burana 44)

At that time (beginning of the Gospel pericopes) the Pope spoke to his Romans:

“When the son of man shall come to our seat of glory (Matt. 25, 31), then say first: ‘Friend, wherefore art thou come?’ (Matt.
26, 50).

But if he continues knocking, giving you nothing, cast ye him into outer darkness (Matt. 25, 30)!”

And it came to pass (Luke 1, 8) that a certain poor cleric came to the curia of the lord Pope and cried unto him, saying (Matt.
15, 22):
“Have pity upon me, ye gate-keepers of the Pope, for the hand of poverty has touched me (Job 19, 21). But I am poor and
sorrowful (Ps. 69, 29), therefore I beg you to help me in my wasteness and desolation (Zeph. 1, 15).”

When they heard it, they were moved with indignation (Matt. 20, 24) and said:
“Friend, thy poverty perish with thee (Acts 8, 20). Get thee behind me Satan: for thou savorest not the things that (Mark 8,
33) money savors.

Verily, verily I say unto thee, thou shalt by no means come to the joy of thy lord, till thou has paid the uttermost farthing
(Matt. 5, 26).”

The poor man went out and sold (Matt 13, 46) coat and tunic and all that he hath (Matt. 13, 44) and gave it to the cardinals
and gate-keepers and chamberlains.

And they said: “What is that among so many (Job 6, 9)?”

And they cast him out (John 9, 34) before the door and he went out and wept bitterly (Matt. 26, 75) and had no comforter
(Lam. 1, 9).

Then came to the curia a certain rich cleric, waxen with fat, grown thick, covered with fatness (Deut. 32, 15) who had
committed murder in the insurrection (Mark 15, 7.)

He gave first to the gate-keeper, then to the chamberlain, thirdly to the cardinals. But they supposed they should have
received more (Matt. 20, 10).

The lord Pope, hearing that the cardinals and servants had received many gifts (Prov. 6, 35) from the cleric, was sick night
unto death (Phil. 2, 27).

But the rich man sent him medicine of gold and silver and immediately the man was made whole (John 5, 9).

Then the Pope called unto him (Matt. 20, 25) the cardinals and servants and said to them:

“Take heed brethren (Heb. 3, 12), let no man deceive you with vain words (Eph. 5, 6).

For I have given you an example, that ye shall do as I have done to you (John 13, 15).”

Tr. Edwin Zeydel (Vagabond Verse, 1966)

 In taberna quando sumus (Carmina Burana 196)

1. 1.
In taberna quando sumus, When we're in the tavern drinking,
non curamus, quid sit humus, Of the earth we're far from thinking,
sed ad ludum properamus, But our haste to games and betting,
cui semper insudamus. Over which we're always sweating.
quid agatur in taberna, What goes on in taverns many,
ubi nummus est pincerna, Where the butler is the penny,
hoc est opus, ut queratur, That to ascertain we seek,
sed quid loquar, audiatur. Listen now to what I speak!

2. 2.
Quidam ludunt, quidam bibunt, Some will gamble, some carouse,
quidam indiscrete vivunt. Some will live like foolish sows.
sed in ludo qui morantur, Some, by gamblers' ways deluded,
ex his quidam denudantur; Oftentimes are thus denuded,
quidam ibi vestiuntur, Some new garments may receive,
quidam saccis induuntur. Others will in sackcloth leave.
ibi nullus timet mortem, Death these people fear no jot,
sed pro Baccho mittunt sortem. They with Bacchus cast their lot.

3. 3.
Primo pro nummata vini; First they drink to who will pay?
ex hac bibunt libertini. Then the rounds got under way:
semel bibunt pro captivis, Once to who in prison fret,
post hec bibunt ter pro vivis, Thrice to all men living yet,
quater pro Christianis cunctis, Fourth, to Christians far and wide,
quinquies pro fidelibus defunctis, Fifth- to faithful ones who've died,
sexies pro sororibus vanis, Sixth- to empty-headed daughters,
septies pro militibus silvanis. Seventh- to militant marauders,

4. 4.
Octies pro fratribus perversis, Eighth- to brotherhoods perverse,
novies pro monachis dispersis, Ninth- to monks who oft disperse,
decies pro navigantibus, Tenth- to those in navigation,
undecies pro discordantibus, Eleventh- who like altercation,
duodecies pro penitentibus, Twelfth- to all the penitent,
tredecies pro iter agentibus. Thirteenth- to those on travel bent.
tam pro papa quam pro rege Now to pope and then to king
bibunt omnes sine lege. All drink, never questioning.

5. 5.
Bibit hera, bibit herus, Lady mine drinks, so the master,
bibit miles, bibit clerus, Soldiers drink, so does the pastor,
bibit ille, bibit illa, He drinks, she drinks, as I've said,
bibit servus cum ancilla, Serving men and serving maid,
bibit velox, bibit piger, Speedsters drink, the sloths respond,
bibit albus, bibit niger, Brunets to and so the blond,
bibit constans, bibit vagus, Scatterbrains, the constant brood,
bibit rudis, bibit magus, Wise men drink, as do the rude.

6. 6.
Bibit pauper et egrotus, Paupers drink, as do the ill,
bibit exul et ignotus, Exiles too and morons will,
bibit puer, bibit canus, Young lads, greybeards drink their measures
bibit presul et decanus, Such as dean or bishop treasures,
bibit soror, bibit frater, Sister drinks and so does brother,
bibit anus, bibit mater, Old hags drink, so does the mother,
bibit ista, bibit ille, He drinks, she drinks cups untold,
bibunt centum, bibunt mille. A hundredfold, a thousandfold.

7. 7.
Parum durant sex nummate, Coins six hundred soon are spent
Durant cum immoderate Where such drinking's prevalent,
bibunt omnes sine meta, Where men drink with boundless folly,
quamvis bibant mente leta. Though while drinking they are jolly.
sic nos rodunt omnes gentes, People gnaw at us and blame us,
et sic erimus egentes. Poverty will soon defame us.
qui nos rodunt, confundantur May our carping critics sicken,
et cum iustis non scribantur! From the righteous ranks be stricken!

Tr. Edwin Zeydel (Vagabond Verse, 1966)

O Fortuna (Carmina Burana 17)

O Fortuna, Fortune's boon,

velut Luna Like the moon,
Statu variabilis, evermore with change is rife:
Semper crescis e'er increasing
Aut decrescis; - Or decreasing; -
Vita detestabilis Our abominable life,
Nunc obdurat Sometimes rending,
Et tunc curat Then amending
Ludo mentis aciem; Playfully our derring-do,
Egestatem, In a trice
Potestatem, Thaws like ice
Dissolvit ut glaciem. Poverty and power too.

Sors immanis Fate so mighty,

Et inanis, Fate so flighty,
Rota tu volubilis, Like a wheel that must revolve,
Status malus, Drives me mad,
Vana salus Ah, I'm sad,
Semper dissolubilis; everything will soon dissolve;
Obumbrata Under cover
Et velata All draped over,
Mihi quoque niteris; Fate comes toward me for attack,
Nunc per ludum To her lash
Dorsum nudum Playful brash
Fero tui sceleris. I muast bare my feeble back.

Sors salutis Health and virtue,

Et virtutis Fate can hurt you!
Michi nunc contraria; Both of you abandon me.
Est affectus My emotions,
Et defectus My demotions
Semper in angaria. Suffer constant agony.
Hac in hora Snatch this day,
Sine mora Don't delay,
Cordae pulsum tangite; Strike the lyre with grave intent;
Quod per sortem How our fate
Sternit fortem, Fells what's great!
Mecum omnes plangite! Come ye, join in my lament.

Tr. Edwin Zeydel (Vagabond Verse, 1966)