Anthology of Troubadour Lyric Poetry - Press, Alan R., Comp - 1971 - Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press - 9780852241806 - Anna's Archive

The purpose of this series is to study the words and compre-
hend the meaning of works by poets, playwrights, and prose

writers that express the creative consciousness of Europe at
periods of great vitality.
The method is that of facing text and translation, prefaced
by original critical assessments, and followed by annotation
appropriate to Honours student level.
The séructure of the series is thematic. The books group into
related studies of subject matter and styles. Among the early
groups are:
1 The amour courtois tradition from the troubadours to the
neo-platonists.
2 Renaissance and later reworking of classical mythology.
This group will contain medieval Latin drama, Italian re-
naissance drama, Poliziano, Gdéngora, Tasso, Calderén,
Lope de Vega, Racine, etc.
3 The gothic imagination of the 19th century and after. Here
we will explore the ‘romantic agony’ and its post-Freudian
aftermath in 20th-century existentialism and the theatre of
the absurd.
4 Symbolism, surrealism, and other 2oth-century styles.
By such means, the barriers imposed by language upon litera-
ture will be transcended. A student of Shakespeare will be
able to know Lope de Vega; a student of French to compare
Calderon and Racine; a student of German contrast Goethe
and Foscolo. Perhaps even more important, all readers will be
able to follow the thread theory of creative ideas, winding
and evolving in country after country, over the centuries.
Edinburgh Bilingual Library (3 )
EDINBURGH BILINGUAL LIBRARY

OF EUROPEAN LITERATURE
General Editor
A.A. Parker, Professor of
Spanish, University of Texas
Editorial Board
W.H. Bruford
C.P. Brand
A.J.Steele
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2022 with funding from
Kahle/Austin Foundation
https://archive.org/details/anthologyoftroubQO000pres_i005
Edinburgh Bilingual Library (3 )
eAnthology of
Troubadour Lyric Poetry
Edited and Translated by

ALAN R.PRESS
Lecturer in French
University ofBelfast
for the University Press

Edinburgh
© Alan R. Press 1971
EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY PRESS
22 George Square, Edinburgh
ISBN 0 85224 180 I
North America
Aldine Publishing Company
529 SouthWabash Avenue, Chicago
Library of Congress
Catalog Card Number 73-115060
Set in 10/11 ‘Monotype’ Barbou
and printed in Great Britain by
W &J Mackay & Co Ltd, Chatham, Kent
Contents
Introduction
William 1x
Jaufré Rudel de Blaye
Marcabrun
Bernard de Ventadour
Peire d’Auvergne
Raimbaut d’Orange
Giraut de Borneil
Bertran de Born
Arnaut Daniel
Peire Vidal
Aimeric de Péguilhan
Sordello
Guilhem de Montanhagol
Peire Cardenal
Guiraut Riquier
~ 2D.
' ;hh
PaMaRS
: .
|4 , : Sulla a j ’ 2a
i@ pert A
Anthology of
INTRODUCTION
It is now generally recognized that the work of the troubadours
lies at the origin of a centuries-long tradition of high lyric
poetry in western Europe. A large number of the concepts
which their work elaborated soon spilled over into other
literary genres of the Middle Ages and thence into later, post-
mediaeval literature, so providing certain elements of our own,
modern, cultural heritage. The result is that more than once the
opinion has been formulated that, even today, certain modes of
thought, of feeling, and of expression are influenced in some
measure by those same concepts.! The ideals of courtesy and
chivalry, for example, are not yet totally extinct, nor that of a
love which, for all its demands of entire self-commitment and
for all its grounding in physical attraction and desire, still seeks
to lift that desire above the instinctual level and to integrate
the lover fully into the society of his peers. Since, then, there is
at least a case for affirming that such ideals were first celebrated
in the lyric poetry of the troubadours, one obvious way better
to understand them is to consider some examples of their
original formulation. An obvious way but not an easy one
since, for many who might otherwise be interested in the sub-
ject, the language of the troubadours, mediaeval Provengal—
or Occitan as it should more correctly, if less traditionally,
be termed?—remains inaccessible. For such considerations
as these alone, it has seemed to me not altogether useless
to make available to an English-speaking public some trans-
lations of the original troubadour texts.
There are of course other considerations too. We know that
to translate is to betray, and that, specifically, it is impossible
to recreate in a modern, Anglo-Saxon idiom the full aesthetic
2 Troubadour Lyric Poetry
effect of a troubadour lyric, with its subtle blend of verbal and

musical harmonies and rhythms, its abundant tropes and
linguistic figures, and its intricate weaving of more or less fixed
formulae and clichés into ever-changing, kaleidoscopic pat-
terns. Nevertheless, some betrayals are worse than others, and
among the very worst, to my mind, is the widely current but
utterly deformed picture of troubadour lyric poetry which,
inherited from a low form of early nineteenth-century
romanticism, still represents it as the charmingly naive but
entirely immoral outpourings of poor wandering minstrels,
hawking from castle to castle their songs of hopeless love for
the proud but maybe half-indulgent wife of some great feudal
lord. As a first step to correcting the picture, to making good
this fundamental betrayal, it appears to me desirable that a
representative selection of the works of the troubadours them-
selves be made available, and accessible. The treachery of
translation then imposes itself, unavoidably.
However, several precautions have been taken in the
present selection to ensure that the treachery be as relatively
innocuous as possible. First of all, the original texts—as far as
they can be reconstructed from a varied and widely scattered
number of manuscripts—have been reproduced along with
their translated versions. My debt to those modern scholars
who have established critical editions of the texts is, of course,
immense, although it must be admitted also that for the sake of
textual coherence—that is, in accordance with the principle of
one base manuscript for each single text—I have not hesitated
to modify certain of the critically established texts whenever it
has appeared to me that a rejected MS reading is in fact to be
preferred to the one adopted by my mentors. The reference
then, included in the preliminary note on each troubadour
selected, to the standard edition of his works is rather more
than an acknowledgement; it is an indication of where the
reader, if he so wishes, can most easily find the critical material
underlying the version of the text which is published here.®
As a second precaution, in the translated versions elegance
and grace have been—not always without remorse—sacri-
ficed to literal accuracy, even in such respects as word order
and the strangely loose but at the same time complex gramma-
tical constructions indulged in by the troubadours. Thus, all
other things being equal, whether a translated version reads
Introduction 2
smoothly or not is intended to reflect the quality of the original
text in this respect. It is only too easy to fall into the trap of
facile elegance or quaint charm, aided by an abundance of
pseudo-mediaeval, pseudo-poetic diction, and thus to distort
once more the original image.4 It has to be recognized that
the troubadours themselves, above all in the initial period,
were in the process of forging from a primitive Romance
tongue, scarcely emerged from its parent Latin form and hardly
ever before used for literary composition of any sort, an
entirely new literary medium. And this medium, furthermore,
was to formulate concepts which were themselves uniquely
original and characterized by both subtle complexity and
tenuous abstraction. To take a simple example, one notes in
the original texts the frequent use of the connecting particle
que to create a network of inter-related clauses so constructed
as to tie down, albeit fleetingly, the myriad facets of the
complex emotional and conceptual world which the trouba-
dours were exploring. Yet the precise functional value of this
que constantly shifts and changes; it moves within a wide area
which only in the course of time will be delimited by a number
of more specific, less polyvalent forms. The result is that very
often gue can only be interpreted on the indications of its
general context. That is to say that the linguistic process in
which the troubadours were engaged leads inevitably to some
measure of textual incoherence, disconnectedness, and
obscurity. I do not conceive it to be the translator’s task to
reduce it—not, at least, in a work of this kind which seeks
merely to present, not to explain. On occasion, of course, the
demands of clarity and of simple English grammar have
imposed some modifications of an absolutely literal rendering,
some resolution of intolerable ambiguities, and even the inter-
polation of words corresponding to no form in the original
text, though such interpolations can at least be—and of course
have been—admitted by the use of parentheses.
Thirdly, in addition to the original texts and their English
versions, a summary note on the life and works of each
troubadour selected has been included, together with an
equally summary comment on the selected texts themselves.
The former is intended to sketch out the historical, social and
literary context of each poet’s activity, while the latter has been
limited to the indication of certain material and aesthetic
features of the original which, although not apparent in the
translated version, seem nevertheless conducive to a fuller
appreciation of the poem. To have introduced further critical
and analytical material would have been to frustrate the basic
purpose of this anthology, and it is this same consideration
which has led me to renounce any form of detailed justification
of the choice of poets and texts. Suffice it to say that from the
more than two thousand lyric poems which have been con-
served, the work of over four hundred troubadours still known
to us by name, I have simply tried to make a selection which
might be as varied and as representative as possible, in as many -
respects as possible. Many restrictions have been unavoidably
imposed by the mundane but pressing exigencies of space and
time; the one major limitation which has been deliberately
adopted, however, is an almost exclusive concentration on
the major poetic genres of canso and sirventés—love-song and
poem of political, moral, or personal comment—since the
numerous minor genres appeared to me of more limited
interest and appeal. But to dwell further on this topic would,
I feel, bring too much attention to bear on my own conceptions
of what is important and attractive about the poetry of the
troubadours; this I would prefer the reader to discover for
himself.
Perhaps a few words should nevertheless be added, by way
of a final introductory note, concerning the sounds and
rhythms of troubadour lyric poetry. On the one hand, while we
know that early mediaeval lyric poetry was, by definition,
accompanied by a melody, and while the melodies composed
by the troubadours for many of their songs have been con-
served in manuscript form, certain particularities of early
mediaeval musical notation make the task of reconstruction
and reproduction in modern form an extremely problematical
one. From the findings and solutions of modern musicologists,
therefore, one can only hazard a few, tentative, generaliza-
tions. Firstly, troubadour melodies seem to correspond to two
basic types, in tone and movement; the slow, rather subdued
and serious song which is immediately evocative of the Gre-
gorian chant, and the lively, gay and skipping tune which must
in some way be associated with mediaeval dance forms of
popular, or communal, origin. Secondly, although the melody
of the canso® clearly makes its own specific contribution to the
Introduction 5
total aesthetic effect, echoing, enhancing and pointing up the
mood formulated in the text, it is in no way the dominant
feature of the work as a whole; the very complexity and, on
occasion, the fine subtlety of the linguistic structure itself, so
characteristic of troubadour poetry, make it absolutely vital
that the melody should not obscure the text to which it is set.
In other words, although one certainly misses something when
simply reading the text alone, one does not, in my opinion, miss
the essentials.
On the other hand, as regards the sounds and rhythms of the
text itself, it needs to be pointed out first of all that in spite of
an immense orthographic variety in the written forms, a
variety which reflects not only the varied provenance of the
manuscripts but also, to a lesser extent, the dialectal peculia-
rities of the different regions from which the troubadours
originated, there is nevertheless a general uniformity of
pronunciation which distinguishes the language of the trouba-
dours from that of other texts, literary and non-literary,
composed in the same area and in the same historical period.
How far this uniformity was contrived and how far, on the
other hand, it was a spontaneous manifestation of social and
cultural unity—the troubadours, after all, were working in a
fairly limited social stratum, that of the feudal nobility —it is
impossible to determine precisely. But in all events, given the
now generally recognized relatively uniform phonetic
structure of this koiné or conventional literary language, the
pleasure of reading aloud—or aloud in one’s mind—the
original texts need not be reduced or masked by the otherwise
rather disconcerting irregularity of the written forms. With
this in mind, I feel that the following general observations on
the pronunciation of the language of the troubadours may
prove helpful.
In general terms, this pronunciation is characterized by a
dominance of vowel sounds over consonants, mediaeval
Provencal being in this respect closer to modern Italian or
Spanish than to modern French, and the vowel sounds them-
selves are much closer to their Common Latin, or Proto-
Romance, origins than those of the language spoken north of
the Loire. The pure closed and open vowels, for example,
were conserved in many situations, both stressed and unstres-
sed, where in northern French they were already subject to
considerable modification or drastic weakening; there were
none of the nasal vowel sounds which northern French deve-
loped in such abundance—a following [n] or [m] simply
closing an otherwise open vowel—and there were still con-
served a whole series of diphthongs and triphthongs which
already in northern French, when present at all, were being
reduced and simplified. It is important to bear in mind that, in
the reading of the verse line, these diphthongs and triphthongs
—f[au], [ai], [ei], [eu], [oi], ete.,§ and [iei], [iew], [vou],
[uei] etc.,7—count as one single syllable, as do those which
result from the many contracted forms used regularly by the
troubadours such as, for example, mo.us (= non +- ves), teus
(= ieu-+ vos), guitem. (= que-+ iew-+ me) and doussa.us
(= doussa +- vos). Other contracted forms which, like the
English ‘don’t’, ‘shan’t’, etc., entail the complete fall of the
vowel of one of their elements, are also monosyllabic in value;
so, for example, si.ns (= si+ nes), non (= non+ en), el
(= e+ lo), no.m. (= non-- me), e.s (= e+ se), no.ill (= non
+ 7), etc. A minor difficulty in the reading of the verse line is
to distinguish, on the one hand, certain monosyllabic diph-
thongs and the equally monosyllabic groups made up of a
semi-consonant and a pure vowel, from, on the other hand,
groups of two vowels in hiatus which count as two separate
syllables; to distinguish, for example, between the [ia] of
preiar and the [ia] of sia, the [ai] of amazre from the [ai] of
maistre, or the [au] of awze/h from the [aii] of sadie. It is for this
reason that such groups of two vowels in hiatus have been
distinguished in the text by the use of the diaeresis. One other
problem of the same order is posed by the fact that although
the [a] or [e] at the end ofa word has often—but not always—
to be elided with the vowel at the beginning of the following
word in order to conserve the correct syllable count of the
line, the manuscripts frequently fail to omit it from the written
form; there being no question of tampering with the graphy of
the Mss, this source of possible misreading cannot easily be
eliminated. With the consonants of mediaeval Provengal,
however, the spelling is usually much more indicative of the
true pronunciation, although it may be noted that the letters
j, and ‘ch’ and ‘z’ often designate the affricate sounds [dj],
[tch], and [ts] respectively, while the sounds of palatal [n]
and palatal [1] appear in a wide assortment of guises, ‘n’, ‘gn’,
Introduction GF
‘in’, ‘nh’, or any permutation thereof, and, similarly, ‘l, ‘il’,
‘th’, ‘IP’, or any permutation.
But this introductory note threatens fast to become a treatise.
It must now come to an end. Not, however, before I fulfil the
most pleasant duty of recording my gratitude to the members
of the Committee of the Edinburgh University Press, whose
acceptance of my original project constituted a great encour-
agement to proceed further, to the Secretary of the University
Press, Mr A. R. Turnbull, whose enthusiasm has more than
once come to urge me on, and to my wife, without whose
constant and inestimable support the following pages would
probably never have seen the light of day.
NOTES
1. See, for example, C.S. Lewis, The Allegory of Love, p.1. ‘Neither
the form nor the sentiments of this old poetry [of the troubadours|
has passed away without leaving indelible traces on our minds.’
or H. Davenson, Les Troubadours, p. 10, attributing to the
troubadours ‘une nouvelle conception de l’amour qui a
profondément modelé la structure de la psyché occidentale.’
2. Since it was the language not only of Provence, but of the whole
of the South of France, which opposed its angue d’oc to the
langue d’oil of France north of the Loire.
3. Two further, minor, remarks on the constitution of the original
texts: (a) the use of square brackets indicates that the base Ms
itself is defective—having omitted a line, a word, or a single
syllable necessary for the regular structure of the stanza, or being
materially mutilated; (b) the punctuation, introduced into the
original text, has as its sole purpose to indicate more clearly what
has appeared to me to be the grammatical articulation of each
stanza.
4. The type of distortion which R. Lafont had in mind when he
observed that ‘On féminise aussi les troubadours par la traduction
en une langue moderne, qui développe les phrases, explicite les
concepts, ala recherche d’une clarté discursive qui ne pouvait
étre de leur propos’. (in Cahiers du Sud, Vol. 55 1963, p. 165; my
italics.)
5. With the sirventés, the situation is rather different, because each
poem of this genre normally borrows its melody from a lyric
composition already in existence, usually a canso.
6. Approximately, [au] as in Eng. ‘now’; [ai] as in Eng. ‘my’;
[ei] as in Eng. ‘day’; [eu] as in Cockney Eng. ‘bell’; [oi] as in
Eng. ‘joy’
7. Approximately, [iei] as in Eng. ‘yea’; [ieu] as in Cockney Eng.
Yale’; [uou] as in Eng. ‘woe’; [uei] as in Eng. ‘weigh’.
shee)
’ ; 4 thn’ Vala rl 2
e ’ é i
Phy rise
4 a
. i*
? ioe rye
William IX, Count of Poitou, Duke ofAquitaine,
LiFe. Born in 1071, William 1x acceded to the titles and

territories of his father in 1086, thereby becoming one of the
most powerful feudal overlords of his times, with territories
more extensive than those held directly by the French king
himself. Having refused to take part in the first crusade of 1098,
he nevertheless led his own expedition to Asia Minor in 1101;
it was a military disaster. In constant conflict with the Church,
he was threatened with excommunication several times for his
dissolute way of life and for his lack of regard for the teachings,
the property, the personnel and the protégés of the Church.
In the latter part of his life, however, he seems to have become
less turbulent; he is known to have taken part in the crusade-
type expeditions against the Moors in Spain, and the sixth
poem reproduced here gives direct and moving evidence of
his reconciliation with orthodox christian faith. He died in
1127.
woRKS. He is the earliest troubadour known to us. Was he in
fact the first, or at least the most eminent of a first generation of
poets, or the first only to emerge from a now lost, anonymous
line ? Certainly his verse-forms, such fragments of his music as
have survived, and his rhetorical style, rich in various tropes
and figures, indicate his debt to mediaeval latin poetry. But the
ideal of courtly life and courtly love which his poetry elabo-
rates is something new in European literature and forms the
basis of the inspiration of all later troubadours. While one can
well look for sources in various directions—mediaeval Latin
court poetry and para-liturgical verse, Hispano-Arabic lyric
poetry, etc.—the origins of his poetry can best be understood
as the reaction of the mind of this man—as far as we can still
gain insight into it through his own work and his own life—to
the particular set of historical, social, and cultural circum-
stances in which he lived.
EDITION. A.Jeanroy Les Chansons de Guillaume 1X (2° éd.
Paris 1927).
SELECTION. Eleven poems are attributed to him. While no
chronological order can be established, they can be arranged
into three groups, the ‘course’, the ‘courtly’, and the ‘contrite’,
reflecting three stages in the development of an attitude to life
and to love. The first two poems reproduced (Jeanroy nos. 1
and 2) belong to the ‘course’ group, relatively unelaborate in
style and versification, and characterized by a masculine
jocularity of tone and, at times, a masculine crudity of expres-
sion. The first expresses a simple pride and delight in mastery
and possession—both sexual and material—but yet is raised
above the level of a barrack-room ballad by the celebration of
that ‘love and joy and youthfulness’ which, in various forms,
infuses all this poet’s work. The second piece has the air of a
manifesto; didactic, demonstrative, argumentative in tone, it
seems, by pointing out the evil results of excluding noble-
women from court life, to plead for a more open, more socially
amenable, more civilized form of court life where the Lady
should have a more positive role to play, mingling freely with
her social peers.
The third piece (Jeanroy no. 4), considered by some scholars
to be a vernacular imitation of the mediaeval Latin riddle or
conundrum-type poem, is yet surprisingly modern in some
aspects —in its ‘coolness’ for example, in its abrupt changes of
emotional key, and in its preoccupation with the objective
irreality of the subjectively real inner life. Wavering between
indifference to love and total commitment to it, it seems to
formulate a particularly critical and complex state of mind, a
state preceding that final acceptance of a new, positive ideal of
love, of life, of joy, which we find expressed in the next two
poems (Jeanroy nos. 7 and 8). These clearly belong to the
‘courtly’ group where we find the earliest known formulation
of that ideal love aspired to by the nobility of southern France
and cultivated in the troubadour canso d‘amor throughout the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
The last poem reproduced here (Jeanroy no. 11), perhaps
unique in the troubadour tradition by virtue of its direct,
personal, involvement in historical, real-life facts and events,
constitutes a precious indication both of the high seriousness of
which William 1x is capable, and of the value which this
William 1X 71
aristocrat attributes to the poetic function. Such a poem is not

intended to amuse or to entertain; it reveals the effort of a
sensitive though turbulent mind to find inner peace and har-
mony in the act of poetic creation.
Companho, faray un vers [. . .] covinen,

Et aura.i mais de foudaz no.y a de sen,
Et er totz mesclatz d’amor e de joy e de joven.
E tenguatz lo per vilan qui no l’enten,

O dins son cor voluntiers [. . .] non Papren;
Greu partir si fai d’amor qui la trob’a son talen.
Dos cavalhs ai a ma selha, ben e gen;

Bon son e adreg per armas, e valen,
Mas no.Is puesc amdos tener, que l’us l’autre non cossen.
Si.ls pogues adomesjar a mon talen,

Ja no volgr’alhors mudar mon garnimen,
Que miels for’encavalguatz de nuill [. . .] ome viven.
La uns fo dels montanhiers lo plus corren,

Mas tan fera estranhez’a longuamen,
Et es tan fers e salvatges que del bailar si defen.
L’autre fo noyritz sa jus, part Cofolen,

E anc no.n vis bellazor, mon escien;
Aquest non er ja camjatz ni per aur ni per argen.
Qu’ie.l doney a son senhor polin payssen,

Pero si.m retinc ieu tan, de covinen,
Que, s’ilh lo teni’un an, qu’ieu lo tengues mais de cen.
. . ha
Cavallier, datz mi cosselh d’un pessamen !
Anc mais no fuy issaratz de cauzimen:
Res no sai ab qual mi tengua, de N’Agnes o de N’Arsen.
De Gimel ai lo castel e.1 mandamen,

E per Niol fauc ergueil a tota gen,
C’ambedui me son jurat, e plevit per sagramen.
Lk Compaigno, non puesc mudar qu’eo no m’effrei

De novellas qu’ai auzidas e que vei:
Qu’una domna s’es clamada de sos gardadors a mei. over
William 1X nS;
My friends, I’ll make a fitting poem and there’ll be in it more

folly than there’s sense, and it will be all mingled with love
and joy and youth.
And consider him a serf who doesn’t understand it, or in his

heart learns it not willingly; it’s hard to part from love for one
who finds it to his liking.
I have two horses to my saddle, right and properly; good they

are and skilled in war, and valiant. But I cannot keep them
both, for one can’t abide the other.
If I could break them in to my desire, I would never wish to

change my gear elsewhere, for I’d be better mounted than any
living man.
One was the swiftest of those from the mountains, but for long
it’s shown such wild restiveness—it’s so wild and shy that it
refuses to be groomed.
The other was raised down there, by Confolens, and you never
saw one more handsome, to my mind; this one will not be
changed for either gold or silver.
And I gave it to its lord, a foal in pasture; yet for myself I

retained this much, by covenant, that, if he kept it a year, I
should keep it for more than a hundred.
Knights, give me counsel in a problem! Never was I more

puzzled by a choice; I don’t know at all with which one I
should stay, with Lady Agnes or with Lady Arsen.
I have the castle of Gimel and its command, and of Nieul I’m
proud before all men, for both are sworn to me and pledged
by oath.
ie My friends, I cannot help but be dismayed at news which I

have heard and which I see, for a lady has complained to me
about her guards.
[E] diz que no volo prendre dreit ni lei,
Ans la teno esserada quada trei,
Tan I’us no.ill largua l’estaca, que l’altre plus no la.ill plei.
[E]t aquill fan entre lor aital agrei—

L’us es compains gens a for mandacarrei,
E meno trop major nauza que la mainada del rei.
[E]t eu dic vos, gardador, e vos castei,

E sera ben grans folia qui no.m crei,
Greu veirez neguna garda que ad oras non sonei.
[Q]u’eu anc non vi nulla domn’ab tan gran fei,

Qui no vol prendre son plait o sa mercei,
S’om la loigna de préessa, que ab malvestatz non plaidei.
[E] si.l tenez a cartat lo bon conrei,

Adoba.s d’aquel que troba viron sei;
Sinon pot aver caval [. . . . . .] compra palafrei.
[N Jon ia negu de vos la.m desautrei:

S’om li vedava vi fort, per malavei,
Non begues enanz de l’aiga que.s laisses morir de sei.
[C]hascus beuri’ans de l’aiga que.s laisses morir de sei.
LEE Farai un vers de dreyt nien:

Non er de mi ni d’autra gen,
Non er d’amor ni de joven,
Ni de ren au;
Qu’enans fo trobatz en durmen
)
Sobre chevau.
No sai en qual guiza.m fuy natz:

No suy alegres ni iratz,
No suy estrayns ni sui privatz,
Ni no.n puesc au;
Qu’enaissi fuy de nueitz fadatz
Sobr’un pueg au. over
William 1X WO)
And she says that they’ll observe nor right nor law, they
rather keep her shut away, the three of them; as much as one
slackens her bond, the other tightens it for her the more.
And between them they behave in such a way—any one of

them is as fine a friend as a carter, and they create far greater
uproar than the household of the king.
And I say this to you, guards, and I advise you, and great folly
would it be not to believe me: you'll hardly find a keeper who
at some time doesn’t sleep.
And I never saw a lady of such great faith who, if one refuses
her plea or her entreaty, excluded from true valour, does not
make her peace with baseness.
If for her you set good company at high price, she provides
herself with what she finds at hand; if she cannot have a horse,
she'll buy a hack.
There’s not one of you who would deny me this: if for some
sickness he were forbidden strong wine, he would drink
water rather than die of thirst.
Each would drink water sooner than die of thirst.
il. I’ll make a poenrof sheer nothingness; it will not be about me,
or about any other; it will not be of love, or of youth, or of any-
thing else; it was, rather, composed while sleeping on a horse.
I know notin what way I was born; J am neither gay nor down-
hearted, neither a stranger nor a familiar friend, nor can I do
aught else, for thus was I charmed by night, on a high hill.
No sai quora.m suy endormitz,
Ni quora.m velh, s’°om no m’o ditz.
Per pauc no m’es lo cor partitz
D’un dol corau.
E no m’o pretz una soritz,
Per sanh Marsau!
Malautz suy e tremi murir,

E ren no sai mas quan n’aug dir;
Metge querrai, al mieu albir,
E no.m sai tau;
Bos metges er si.m pot guerir,
Mas ja non, si amau.
Amigu’ai ieu, no sai qui s’es,

Qu’anc non la vi, si m’ajut fes!
Ni.m fes que.m plassa ni que.m pes,
Nino m’en cau,
Qu’anc non ac Norman ni Frances
Dins mon ostau.
Anc non la vi et am la fort,

Anc no n’aic dreyt ni no.m fes tort;
Quan non la vey, be m’en deport,
No.m pretz un jau,
Qurie.n sai gensor et bellazor,
E que mais vau.
Fag ai lo vers, no say de cuy;

E trametrai lo a selhuy
Que lo.m trametra per autruy
Lay vers Anjau,
Que.m tramezes del sieu estuy
La contraclau.
William IX 17
I know not when I sleep, or when I wake, unless someone tells

me so; by very little has my heart not broken with a deep sor-
row. And I care not a mouse for that, by Saint Martial!
Sick I am and fear to die, and know nothing but what I hear tell
of it; I'll seek a doctor, of my way of thinking, and I know not
such a one; he’ll be a good doctor, if he can cure me, but never,
if I grow worse.
I havea loved one, I don’t know who she is, for I’ve never seen
her, so help me my faith! She has done nothing to please me,
or to grieve me, nor am I bothered about it, for I never had
Norman or Frenchman in my house.
I’ve never seen her and I love her dearly; I’ve never had
right from her, nor has she done me wrong; when I do not see
her, I get along quite well, I don’t think it’s worth a rooster!
For I know one more noble and more lovely, and who is worth
more.
I’ve made this poem, I know not of what; and I’ll send it to
him who will send it on for me by another, yonder, towards
Anjou, that he might send back to me, from his own wallet, the
key to it.
IV. Pus vezem de novelh florir
Pratz e vergiers reverdezir,
Rius e fontanas esclarzir,
Auras e vens,
Ben deu quascus lo joy jauzir
Don es jauzens.
D’amor non dey dire mas be.

Quar no n’ai ni petit ni re?
Quar ben leu plus no m’en cove;
Pero leumens
Dona gran joy qui be.n mante
Los aizimens.
A totz jorns m’es pres enaissi

Qu’anc d’aquo qu’aimiey non jauzi,
Nio faray ni anc no fi;
Qu’az esciens
Fas mantas res que.l cor me di:
“Tot es niens.’
Per tal n’ai meyns de bon saber:

Quar vuelh so que no puesc aver;
E si.l reproviers me ditz ver
Certanamens:
‘A bon coratge bon poder’—
Qui’s ben suffrens.
Ja no sera nuils hom ben fis

Contr’amor, si non I’es aclis,
Et als estranhs et als vezis
Non es consens,
Eta totz sels d’aicels aizis
Obediens.
Obediensa deu portar

A motas gens, qui vol amar,
E coven li que sapcha far
Faigz avinens,
E que.s gart en cort de parlar
Vilanamens. over
William 1X 19
LY. Since we see flowering anew the fields, and the meadows grow
green again, the streams and fountains run clear, the breezes
and winds, rightly should each enjoy the joy of which he is
(truly)joyous.
I should say nothing of love but good. Why have I so little of

it? Most likely because more behoves me not; yet readily it
gives great joy to him who well keeps within its bounds.
At all times has it befallen me thus, that never of that which I

loved did I have joy; nor will I ever do, nor have I ever done
so, for full knowingly I do many things while my heart tells
me “all is nothingness’.
For this do I have less pleasure: I wish for that which I cannot
have, and yet the proverb speaks true to me, for sure; ‘where
there’s a will, there’s a way’—if one is long-suffering.
No man will ever be gracious to love unless he is submissive to

it, and unless he is humble to strangers and those near by, and
obedient to all those dwelling within its bounds.
Obedience to many men must he show who would love; and it

behoves him to be able to do pleasant deeds, and let him take
care not to speak, at court, like a serf.
Del vers vos dig que mais en vau,
Qui ben I’enten, e n’a plus lau,
Que.| mot son fag tug per egau
Cominalmens,
E.l sonetz, qu’ieu mezeis m’en lau,
Bos e valens.
Mon Esteve, mas ieu no.i vau,

Sia.l prezens
Mos vers, e vuelh que d’aquest lau
.M sia guirens.
Farai chansoneta nueva

Ans que vent ni gel ni plueva;
Ma dona m/assai’e.m prueva
Quossi de qual guiza l’am,
E ja per plag que m’en mueva
No.m solvera de son liam.
Qu’ans mi rent a lieys e.m liure,

Qu’en sa carta.m pot escriure,
E no m’en tengatz per yure
S’ieu ma bona dompna am,
Quar senes lieys non puesc viure,
Tant ai pres de s’amor gran fam.
Que plus es blanca qu’evori,

Per qu’ieu autra non azori.
Si’m breu non ai ajutori
Cum ma bona dompna m’am,
Morrai, pel cap Sanh Gregori!
Sino.m bayz’en cambr’o sotz ram.
Qual pro.y auretz, dompna conja,

Si vostr’amors mi deslonja ?
Par que.us vulhatz metre monja;
E sapchatz, quar tan vos am,
Tem que la dolors me ponja,
Sino.m faitz dreg dels tortz qu’ie.us clam. over
William EX 27
Of this poem I tell you that it’s worth more if one understands
it well, and it receives more praise; for the words are wrought
all of one style alike, and the melody, which I myself praise
myself for, good and fine.
Before my friend Stephen, though I’m not going, be my poem

present; and I want him, concerning this praise, to vouch for
me.
I'll make a new little song, before the wind and the frost and
the rains come; my lady tries me and tests me as to how, in
what way, I love her; and never, for any case she might bring
against me, would I loose myself from her bond.
I rather yield and render myself to her, that in her charter she
may write me down. And do not for this think me drunk, if I
love my fine lady, for without her I cannot live, so great has
been my hunger for her love.
For she is whiter than ivory, wherefore I adore no other. If

soon I do not have help so that my fine lady may love me, I’ll
die, by Saint Gregory’s head! if she does not kiss me in bedroom
or in arbour.
What good will it do you, sweet lady, if your love keeps me far
off ? It seems you would become a nun; but know, for somuch
I love you, I fear lest the pain should pierce me, if you right
not the wrongs I complain to you of.
LY: Troubadour Lyric Poetry
Qual pro.y auretz s’ieu m’enclostre
E no.m retenetz per vostre ?
Totz lo joys del mon es nostre,
Dompna, s’amduy nos amam.
Lay al mieu amic Daurostre
Dic e man que chane [. . .] bram.
Per aquesta fri e tremble,

Quar de tan bon’amor I’am;
Qu’anc no cug qu’en nasques semble,
En semblan, del gran linh N’Adam.
VI. Pos de chantar m’es pres talentz,

Farai un vers don sui dolens:
Mais non serai obedienz
En Peitau ni en Lemozi.
Qu’era m’en irai en eisil;

En gran paor, en gran peril,
En guerra laissarai mon fil,
E faran li mal siei vezi.
Lo departirs m’es aitan grieus

Del seignoratge de Peitieus!
En garda lais Folcon d’Angieus
Tota la terr’e son cozi.
Si Folcos d’Angieus no.1 socor,

E.] reis de cui ieu tenc m’onor,
Faran li mal tut li plusor
Felon Gascon et Angevi.
Si ben non es savis ni pros,

Cant ieu serai partitz de vos,
Vias auran tornat en jos,
Car lo veiran jov’e mesqui. over
William 1X 23
What good will it do you if I take to the cloister, and you do

not retain me for yours ? All the joy of the world is ours, lady,
if both we love one another. There, to my friend Daurostre |
say and command that he should sing and (not) bray.
For her I thrill and tremble, since I love her with such fine
love; I think that there was never born her peer in beauty, from
all Sir Adam’s long line.
VI. Since the desire to sing has come upon me, I’ll make a poem
of that for which I grieve: no longer shall I render obedience
for Poitou and the Limousin.
For now into exile I shall go; in great fear, in great peril, and
at war shall I leave my son, and his neighbours will do him
harm.
So grievous is for me this parting from the lordship of Poitiers !

In wardship I leave to Foulques of Angers all the land, and his
cousin.
If Foulques does not help him, and the king from whom I
hold my title, they in great numbers will do him harm, the fell
Gascons and Angevins.
Unless he is most wise and valiant, when I have parted from

you, they soon will have cast him down, for they'll see him
young and feeble.
Per merce prec mon compaignon,
S’anc li fi tort, qu’il m’o perdon;
Et il prec En Jesu del tron,
En romans et en son lati.
De proéeza e de joi fui,

Mais ara partem ambedui;
Et eu irai m’en a Sellui
On tut peccador troban fi.
Mout ai estat cuendes e gais,

Mas nostre Seigner no.! vol mais;
Ar non puesc plus soffrir lo fais,
Tant soi aprochatz de la fi.
Tot ai guerpit cant amar sueill,

Cavalaria et orgueill;
E pos Dieu platz, tot o acueill,
E prec li que.m reteng’am si.
Toz mos amics prec a la mort

Que.i vengan tut e m’onren fort;
Qu’eu ai avut joi e deport,
Loing e pres, et e mon aizi.
Aissi guerpisc joi e deport,

E vair e gris e sembeli.
William 1X 25
Inmercy’s name I pray to my companion, if ever I wronged him

may he forgive me it; and may he pray Lord Jesus on His
throne, both in Romance and in what Latin he knows.
I have lived my life in prowess and in joy, but now we both

part company, and away I shall go to Him in Whom all sinners
find their end.
I have been most gay and lighthearted, but our Lord no more
wishes it so; now I cannot bear the burden, so near am I drawn
to my end.
All have I quit that I used to love, chivalry and noble pride;
and, since it pleases God, all this I accept, and pray to Him to
keep me by His side.
All my friends I pray, at my death, to come and to do me great

honour, for I have known joy and delight both far and near,
and within my own bounds.
Thus I quit joy and delight, rich cloths and precious sable
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Faufré Rudel deBlaye,
LIFE. Jaufré Rudel was castellan of Blaye during the second

quarter of the twelfth century. With his distant cousin William
Taillefer, count of Angouléme, as with other eminent noble-
men of the South-West, this minor nobleman seems to have
been on cordial terms, due quite possibly to a mutual interest
in the developing cult of vernacular lyric poetry as well as to
a common pursuit of the crusading ideal. The touching story
recounted in his thirteenth-century biography, according to
which Jaufré fell in love with the Countess of Tripoli without
ever having seen her, put out to sea, fell ill, and died in the
arms of his distant love when first brought to her, is generally
considered to be no more than a literal interpretation of certain
recurrent themes in his own poetry. It is however almost cer-
tain that he took part in the Crusade of 1148, and quite possibly
he never returned from it, thus providing further material for
his mediaeval biographer to transform into legend. In all
events, nothing more is known of him after that date. In 1167
another member of his family is attested as holding the fief of
Blaye; by then, presumably, Jaufré Rudel was dead.
works. No more than six poems are now attributed to this
troubadour, all love-songs, “with good melodies and poor
words’ as his early biographer-critic put it. Certainly their
range of vocabulary and of general expressive devices is
limited, their formal and thematic structures simple. And yet
the poetic experience which they formulate is anything but
simple; opinions as to the precise nature of their inspiration
are almost as numerous as the critics and scholars who have
fallen under their enigmatic spell. On the one hand, it is
generally agreed that, as in the case of William 1x—to whom
Jaufré is clearly indebted for much of his formal and thematic
material—the poems can be grouped in such a way as to show,
successively, an involvement in, a reaction against, and a
movement away from a low, furtive, adulterous and humiliat-
ing type of love. But, on the other hand, the nature of that
‘distant love’ towards which the poet moves has been in-
terpreted in extremely divergent ways, ranging from the most
down-to-earth, literal, and biographical to the most abstract,
symbolizing, and mystical. If anything at all is certain, it is
that by the consistent use of a few, simple linguistic structures,
the poet has succeeded in giving form to a mystery, the mystery
of a love which is known and experienced only as the end of
an unending aspiration, and which is made perceptible only in
the self-engendered, unique, and utterly isolated reality of the
love-song itself.
EDITION. A. Jeanroy Les Chansons de Jaufré Rudel (2° éd.
Paris 1924).
SELECTION. Since a chronological grouping is not possible,
the four selected poems (Jeanroy nos. 2, 5, 6, 1) have been
arranged according to a perceptible thematic development. In
the first one, there are no longer any of those episodic, realistic
allusions which are used elsewhere (Jeanroy nos. 3, 4) to
evoke an adulterous and humiliating liaison; the theme of a
noble, distant, unrequited love—alluded to with characteristic
ambiguity—is already dominant. The quality of the poet’s
emotions is still, to some extent, suspect, for their purity is
threatened by an inner, psychological conflict between senti-
mental longing, rational will, and sensuous desire. Allusive
though the poem may be, the brief analysis of this conflict
endows the thematic material with some kind of objective,
realistic substance. This is lacking entirely in the next poem,
where even such aspects of the external world as are evoked
are wholly transformed into hypothetical reference points to
the poet’s dream. Undoubtedly the best known of Jaufré’s
works, this poem is also the most enigmatic, and it is easy to
see how critics have variously felt able to identify the poet’s
distant love with, to mention but a few, the Countess of
Tripoli, the Virgin Mary, Jerusalem, or a mystical experience
of the divine. It is no less easy to appreciate, however, that no
one interpretation is entirely satisfactory; the reader is caught
in a cunningly constructed puzzle, so that the more he tries to
break through it with one simple interpretation, the more he
becomes involved in the mystery. Perhaps, after all, this is
what the poet wanted, for the structure of the poem is a
Jaufré Rudel de Blaye 29
masterpiece of ambiguity and allusiveness. The experience of
intense abstraction which it formulates is not, however,
sustained. In the third selected poem it is resolved into a series
of paradoxes by which, although the same theme is dominant,
a totally different effect is achieved. The obsessive tension is
relaxed and gives way to a more objective, detached mood
which at times seems even to approach the humour of self-
derision. The fourth poem, finally, deals even more objectively
with the same basic theme, at least in its last stanzas which are
generally considered as announcing the poet’s intention of go-
ing on the Crusade of 1148. Since nothing further is known of
the poet after this date, it is quite possible that this is indeed
his farewell to love, a farewell to the cult of courtly love
which he had maintained and furthered in so unique a fashion.
Quan lo rius de la fontana
S’eclarzis, si cum far sol,
E par la flors aiglentina,
E.1 rossinholetz el ram
Volf e refranh ez aplana
Son dous chantar, e l’afina,
Be’s dregz qu’ieu lo mieu refranha.
Amors, de terra lonhdana,

Per vos totz lo cors mi dol;
E no.n puesc trobar mezina
Sinon al vostre reclam,
Ab maltrait d’amor doussana
Dinz vergier o part cortina,
Ab dezirada companha.
Pus totz jorns m’en falh aizina,

No.m meravilh si n’ai fam;
Quar anc genser Crestiana
Non fo—ni Dieus non o vol—
Juzia ni Sarrazina.
Ben es selh paguatz de mana
Qui de s’amor ren guazanha!
De dezir mos cors no fina

Vas selha ren qu’ieu pus am;
E cre que volers m’enguana
Si cobezeza la.m tol. .
Que pus es ponhens d’espina
La dolors que per joi sana,
Don ja non vuelh qu’om m’en planha.
Senes breu de parguamina

Tramet lo vers que chantam
En plana lengua romana,
A.N Hugo Bru, per Filhol;
Bo.m sap, quar gens Peitavina,
De Berri e de Guizana,
S’esgau per lieys, e Bretanha.
Jaufré Rudel de Blaye cy
When the fountain’s stream runs clear as it used to do, and the
wild rose flower appears, and the nightingale on the bough
turns and softens and smooths its sweet song, and refines it,
it’s indeed right that I should soften mine.
Oh love, of distant land, for you my whole heart aches; and I

can find no cure if not in your alluring call, with pangs of sweet
love in meadow or within curtained chamber, beside the
desired companion.
Since always ease of it forsakes me, I marvel not that I hunger

for it; for there was never Christian lady more fair—nor does
God wish there to be — nor Jewess nor Saracen lady. He is
indeed fed with manna who wins anything of her love!
My heart never ends its longing for her whom I love most;
and I fear lest my will should cheat me if urgent desire robs
me of her. And sharper than thorn is the pain which by joy is
healed and for which I want no one ever to pity me.
Without parchment brief I send off the poem, which we sing

in the plain Romance tongue, to Lord Hugo Brun, by Filhol;
I am pleased, for the folk of Poitou, of Berry and of Guyenne
rejoice in it, and Britanny.
ae Troubadour Lyric Poetry
Il. Lanquan li jorn son lonc, en may,
M’es belhs dous chans d’auzelhs de lonh;
E quan mi suy partitz de lay,
Remembra.m d’un’amor de lonh;
Vau de talan embroncx e clis,
Si que chans ni flors d’albespis
No.m valon plus qu’iverns gelatz.
Be tenc lo Senhor per veray

Per qu’ieu veirai l’amor de lonh;
Mas, per un ben que m’en eschay,
N’ai dos mals, quar tant suy de lonh.
Ai! car no suy lai pelegris,
Si que mos fustz e mos tapis
Fos pels sieus belhs huelhs remiratz.
Be.m parra joys quan li querray,

Per amor Dieu, |’ostal de lonh;
E, s’a lieys platz, alberguarai
Pres de lieys, si be.m suy de lonh.
Qu’aissi es lo parlamens fis,
Quan drutz lonhdas es tan vezis
Qu’ab cortes ginh jauzis solatz.
Iratz e dolens m’en partray,

S’ieu no vey sest’amor de lonh.
Non sai quora mais la veyrai,
Que tan son nostras terraslonh; ~
Assatz hi a pas e camis,
E per aisso no.n suy devis—
Mas tot sia cum a lieis platz!
Ja mais d’amor no.m jauziray

Sino.m jau d’est’amor de lonh,
Que melhor ni gensor no.n sai
Ves nulha part, ni pres ni lonh;
Tant es sos pretz ricx e sobris
Que lay, el reng dels Sarrazis,
Fos ieu per lieys chaitius clamatz. over
Jaufré Rudel de Blaye oo,
HI: When the days are long, in May, I’m pleased by the sweet
song of birds from afar: and when from that I’ve turned away,
I remember a love from afar. I go, with longing sombre and
bowed down, so that neither song nor whitethorn blossom
avails me more than icy winter.
The Lord indeed I hold as true through whom I'll see that
love from afar; but, for one good that from it befalls me, I
have two ills, since ’m so far. Ah! why am I not a pilgrim
there, so that my staff and my cloak were beheld by her lovely
eyes.
Joy will indeed appear to me when I ask of her, for God’s

love, shelter afar; and, if it pleases her, I will dwell near her,
even though I am from afar. For in this way is the discourse
noble, when distant lover is so near that in courtly manner he
enjoys sweet solace.
In sorrow and grief will I depart, if I see not that love from
afar. I know not when I shall ever see her, for our lands are
so far; there are many roads and passes, and for that I’m not
separated from her—but be it all as it pleases her!
Never more will I rejoice in love unless I enjoy that love from
afar, for Iknow none more noble or fairer than she, in any part,
near or far; so great and supreme is her merit that there in the
Saracens’ land would I be for her claimed captive.
Dieus que fetz tot quant ve ni vai
E formet sest’amor de lonh,
Mi don poder, que cor ben ai,
Quieu veya sest’amor de lonh
Verayamen, en luec aiziz,
Si que la cambra e.l jardis
Mi resemblon novels palatz.
Ver ditz qui m’apella lechay

Ni deziros d’amor de lonh;
Que nubhs autres joys tan no.m play
Cum jauzimens d’amors de lonh.
Mas so qu’ieu vuelh m’es tant ahis
Qu’enaissi.m fadet mos pairis:
Quw’ieu ames e non fos amatz.
ETT: No sap chantar qui so non di,

Ni vers trobar qui motz no fa,
Ni conois de rima co.s va,
Si razo non enten en si;
Mas lo mieus chans comens’aissi:
Com plus lauziretz, mais valra.
Nuils hom no.s meravill de mi

S’ieu am so que ja no.m veira,
Qu’el cor joi d’autr’amor nona
Mas d’aissella qu’ieu anc no vi;
Ni per nuill joi aitan no ri
E no sai quals bes m’en venra.
Colps de joi me fer que m’ausi,

Et ponha d’amor que.m sostra
La carn, don lo cors magrira;
Et anc mais tan greu no.m feri,
Ni per nuill colp tan no langui,
Quar no cove, ni no s’esca. over
God, who created all that comes and goes, and fashioned that
love from afar, grant me the power, for I well have the heart,
to see that love from afar, truly and in such situation that room
and garden may seem to me palace new.
He tells the truth who calls me hungry and desirous for love
from afar; for no other joy pleases me so much as enjoyment
of love from afar. But that which I want is so opposed to me
for my godfather vowed my fate thus: that I should love and
should not be loved.
IIl. He cannot sing who gives no melody, or compose verse who

sets down no words, nor does he know how rime goes unless
in himself he understands the rules; but my own song begins
in this way: the more you hear it the better it will be.
Let no man marvel at me if I love that which will never see

me, for in the heart there’s joy of no other love but of that one
which I never saw; nor am I gladdened so much by any joy,
yet I know not what good of it will come to me.
I am stricken by joy which slays me, and by a pang of love

which ravishes my flesh, whence will my body waste away;
and never before did it strike me so hard, nor from any blow
did I so languish, for that is not fitting, nor seemly.
Anc tan soven no m’adurmi
Mos esperitz tost no fos la;
Ni tan d’ira non ac de sa
Mos cors ades no fos aqui.
E quan mi resveill al mati,
Totz mos bos sabers mi desva.
Ben sai c’anc de lei no.m jauzi,

Ni ja de mi no.s jauzira:
Ni per son amic no.m tenra
Ni coven no.m fara de si;
Anc no.m dis ver ni no.m menti,
E no sai si ja s’o fara.
Bos es lo vers, qu’anc no.i falhi,

Et tot so que.i es, ben esta;
E sel que de mi l’apenra
Gart se no.| franha, ni.l pessi;
Car si ’auran en Caersi
En Bertrans, e.l coms en Tolza.
Bos es lo vers, e faran hi

Calque re don hom chantara.
UNE Quan lo rossinhols el folhos

Dona d’amor e.n quier e.n pren,
E mou son chan jauzent, joyos,
E remira sa par soven,
E.] riu son clar e.l prat son gen,
Pel novel deport que.y renha,
Mi vai grans joys al cor jazer.
D’un’amistat suy enveyos,

Quar no sai joya plus valen
Que d’aquesta, que bona.m fos
Si.m fazia d’amor prezen.
Que.l cors a gras, delgat e gen,
E ses ren que.y descovenha,
E s’amors bon’ab bon saber. over
I never so often fell asleep but that my spirit was soon
yonder; nor had I so much grief, here, but that my heart was
ever there. And when I wake in the morning, all my pleasure
fades.
I know well that I never had joy of her, nor will she ever have
joy of me; and she will not deem me her lover nor make a
promise of herself to me. She never told me the truth nor lied to
me, and I know not if she ever will.
The poem is good for I never failed in it, and all that is in it
is well in its place; and may he who learns it from me take
care not to break it or pull it to pieces, for thus in Quercy will
Sir Bertrand hear it, and the Count in the Toulousain.
The poem is good and there they'll do something of which

one will sing.
IV. When the nightingale in the thicket bestows its love and seeks
and takes it, and pours forth its joyful song in joy, and gazes
often on its mate, and the streams are clear and the meadows
fair, then for the new delight which reigns there, a great joy
goes to nestle in my heart.
For one friendship am I longing because I know no richer joy

than this: that she should be good to me, if she made me a gift
of her love. And she has a well-fleshed body, soft and fair, with
nothing which does not befit it, and her love is good and
pleasurable.
D’aquest’amor suy cossiros
Vellan e pueys sompnhan dormen,
Quar lai ay joy meravelhos
Per quieu la jau, jauzitz jauzen;
Mas sa beutatz no.m val nien,
Quar nulhs amicx no m’essenha
Cum ieu ja n’aia bon saber.
D’aquest’amor suy tan cochos

Que quant ieu vau ves lieys corren,
Vejaire m’es qu’a reversos
M’en torn, e que lay.s n’an fugen;
E mos cavals vai aitan len
A greu cug mais que.y atenha,
S’ilha no.s vol arretener.
Amors, alegre.m part de vos

Per so qu’ar vau mo mielhs queren;
E fuy en tant aventuros
Qu’enqueras n’ay mon cor jauzen.
Mas pero per mon Bon Guiren,
Que.m vol e m’appell’e.m denha,
M’es ops a parcer mon voler.
E qui sai rema deleytos,

E Dieu non siec en Bethléem,
No sai cum ja mais sia pros
Nicum ja venh’a guerimen;
Quwieu sai e crei, mon escien,
Que selh qui Jesus ensenha
Segur’escola pot tener.
In this love I am absorbed, waking and then in dreaming

sleep, for then I have wondrous joy because I enjoy it,
rejoiced in and rejoicing. But her beauty avails me naught
since no friend shows me how I might ever have pleasure of it.
For this love I am so eager that when I go running towards

her, it seems to me that in retreat I turn from it and that she
goes fleeting away; and my horse moves on so slowly that I
scarce believe any more that I might reach her, unless she
herself is willing to hold back.
Love, gaily I leave you because now I go seeking my highest

good; yet by this much was I fortunate that my heart still
rejoices for it. But, for all this, because of my Good Protector
who wants me and calls me and accepts me, I must needs
restrain my longing.
And if anyone stays back here in his delights and does not
follow God to Bethlehem, I know not how he might ever be
worthy or come to salvation; for I know and believe that, to
my way of thinking, he whom Jesus teaches is sure of certain
doctrine.
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eMarcabrun
LiF £. Marcabrun, the earliest known professional troubadour,

was probably born in Gascony about the year 1110, of fairly
humble parentage. During the first ten years or so of his career
(c. 1127-1137) he appears to have enjoyed the patronage of
William x, count of Poitou and duke of Aquitaine; Marcabrun
espouses his interests in more than one of his poems and
associates his death with the decline of Pretz and Valors—two
virtues invariably and almost exclusively attributed to their
patrons by professional troubadours. Occasional references in
his poetry further indicate that after William x’s death in 1137
he visited other great courts of the Midi and of Christian Spain,
everywhere seeking, nowhere finding permanent patronage
and protection. His latest dateable poems allude to the crusade
of 1147-1149 and, in a poem dating from 1157-1158, a later
troubadour, Peire d’Auvergne, twice refers to him in the past
tense and suggests that he is already ‘gitatz a non-cura’—fallen
into neglect.
works. Almost as obscure as the material circumstances of
his life is the underlying sense of much of Marcabrun’s poetry.
Many of the forty-two poems attributed to him refer but
fleetingly to contemporary events and situations. Many of
them, too, affect a style now allegorical, now symbolical, now
proverbial and sententious which clearly corresponded to
contemporary patterns of thought and expression now no
longer current, while on occasion it is suspected that the poet
invents new words, or at least new forms and combinations of
old words, himself. All this, however, detracts nothing from
the impression, created by his poetry, of an immensely strong
and forceful personality, having something to say and a mastery
of such poetic means as he chooses to say it with. All the
resources of the convicted moralist are his: with deep earnest-
ness, scathing irony, or violent invective he condemns the
moral corruption which he sees around him, the degeneracy of
the nobility, the decline of courtly virtues, and the flourishing
of their perverted opposites. Not that he is really the isolated
prophet raging in the wilderness which some critics, deceived
perhaps by the persona which Marcabrun himself adopts, have
taken him for. However different his poetry may appear from
that of contemporary troubadours, however heavily he relies,
for his allegories and symbols, on mediaeval Latin scholastic
traditions, his deepest inspiration can be seen to be of the same
nature as that of other early poets. They all propose a positive
ideal of noble love, oppose it to less noble, coarser patterns of
behaviour, and tend all, in varying degrees, to adapt the
figures and terminology of religion to their own poetic ends.
That Marcabrun stands alone among them is perhaps because,
rather than construct an imaginary world of sentiment and
emotion in which the positive aspects of the courtly ideal might
be realized and made perceptible, he, for the first time, directs
his attention to the real world, in order to attribute its vices,
weaknesses and scandals to a failure to live up to that same
ideal. The reality of the ideal is thus made perceptible by the
observable consequences of its absence.
EDITION. J.M.L.Dejeanne Poésies complétes du troubadour
Marcabrun (Toulouse 1909).
SELECTION. If the mention of the afflicted head, made in the
first poem (Dejeanne no. 3) is, as usually supposed, an allusion
to the papal schism of the early 1130s, the poem belongs to the
early part of Marcabrun’s career. The theme of moral degene-
ration among the great of this world is already dominant, and
developed through a complex synthesis of allegory and
symbol—much of which is biblical, patristic, and scholastic in
origin—with direct, picturesque caricature. The structure of
the second poem (Dejeanne no. 35 )is, on the other hand, based
ona single symbol which, for Marcabrun, seems to figure both
the military campaign against the Arabs in Spain (in which
the Marquis of Provence and the Knights Templars—ci// del
temple Salamo—were engaged) and the pilgrimage to Santiago.
William x, whose death is alluded to, died on just such a pil-
grimage, undertaken as an act of penance. In the next two
pieces (Dejeanne nos. 40, 5) the figure of Marcabrun as the
self-appointed moralist, fully aware of his mission, emerges
Marcabrun 43
rather more clearly, while the fifth poem (Dejeanne no. 23)
reveals yet another aspect of his personality. Here he speaks
as the professional, conscious of his dependence yet proudly
recalling to his patron, Alfonso vi1 of Castile, self-styled
‘Emperor’ of Spain, his power to make—and break—reputa-
tions through his poetry. The note of disenchantment suggests
that this poem may belong to a later stage in the troubadour’s
career when, disappointed with the courts of N. Spain, he
returned to the Midi. The last poem (Dejeanne no. 5), by its
reference to ‘Sir Jaufré Rudel over the sea’, dates from the
time of the second crusade and must be among the last of his
compositions. It is one of his rare attempts to formulate
positively, by direct exposition, his own concept of the courtly
ideal. That it is dedicated to the castellan of Blaye well indi-
cates the cultural tradition within which Marcabrun is work-
ing; a tradition which he himself had developed and expanded
in a personal and forceful way which many later troubadours
imitated, but never equalled.
Al departir del brau tempier
Quan per la branca pueja.l sucs
Don reviu la genest’e.] brucs,
E floreysson li presseguier,
E la rana chant’el vivier,
E brota.] sauzes e.] satics,
Contra.] termini qu’es yssucs
Suy d’un vers far en cossirier.
Cossiros suy d’un gran vergier

Ont a de belhs plansos mans lucs;
Gent sont l’empeut, e.l frugs bacucs.
Selh qu’esser degran sordegier,
Fuelhs e flors, paron de pomier;
Son al fruchar sautz’e saiics.
E pus lo caps es badalucs,
Dolen son li membr’estremier.
Mort son li bon arbre primier,

E.] viu son ramils e festucs,
Dels fortz assayz los vey damnucs,
Mas de bordir son fazendier;
De promessas son bobansier,
Al rendre sauzes e saiics.
Don los claman flacs e bauducs
Ieu e tug l’autre soudadier.
Quan son la nueg josta.! foguier

N’Esteves, En Costans, En Ucs,
[seats Cerenetcs|
Mais que Berartz de Monleydier;
Tota nueg joston a doblier,
E.1jorn, a ?ombra dels saiics,
Auziratz nausas e bauducs
E doblar entr’els ’escaquier.
Doncs no pairejon li derrier

En totz bos sens ab los faducs ?
El og—si Cozer’e Sarlucs
Valon Toloz’e Monpeslier ! over
Marcabrun 45
Now that the rough weather’s gone away, and through the
branch rises the sap by which the broom and heather quicken
once again, and the peach-trees blossom, and the frog sings in
the fishpond, and the willow and elder are in bud, before the
hot, dry season comes, I have in mind to compose a poem.
I am mindful of a great orchard, where there are many groves

of saplings fair; the parent stocks are fine, and the fruit hollow.
Those things which should be among the worst, leaves and
blossom, seem to be of apple-trees; when the time comes for
the fruit, they turn out to be willows and elders. And, since the
head is defective, the furthest limbs are in pain.
Dead are the good old trees, and those that live are twigs and
straws. I see them proved worthless in great undertakings, but
in idle games they are busy; in promises they are prodigious,
in keeping them, willows and elders. Hence we proclaim them
weak and feeble-minded, I and all the other retainers.
When, at night, they are by the fire, my lords Stephen and

Constant and Hugo, (they boast of achieving?) . . . more
than Berart de Mondidier; all night they vie with each other,
and, by day, in the shade of the elders, you'll hear the uproar
and revelry, and the bids being doubled among them.
These young ones then do not resemble, in all good ways, those
who are dead ? Indeed yes—if Cazéres and Carlux are worth
Toulouse and Montpellier!
Qu’ieu sai qual mort foron primier,
E.1 mais dels vius son vers satics;
E podetz dir qu’es benastrucs
Qui troba laur ni olivier!
Neys l’ortalas, ab lo clavier,

Jos ab un vent s’en fuy, huelhs cucs;
Per esclavin’e per trabucs
An laissat mantelh e caussier.
Niren non a.i del estatgier,
Tal hira.m fan sautz’e satics!
Sino.ls ten reys o coms 0 ducs,
Totz temps seran mais caminier.
Los pros sal Dieus qu’an pretz entier!

Que.] ric malvatz paron satics,
Per que.] segles es badalucs,
Don malavey’e destorbier.
iT: Pax in nomine Domini!

Fetz Marcabrus los motz e.] so.
Aujatz que di:
Cum nos a fait, per sa doussor,
Lo Seingnorius celestiaus
Probet de nos un lavador,
C’anc, fors outramar, no.n fon taus,
En de lai deves Josaphas;
E d’aquest de sai vos conort.
Lavar de ser e de maiti

Nos deuriam, segon razo,
Te.us 0 afi:
Chascus a del lavar legor.
Dementre qu’el es sas e saus,
Deuri’anar al lavador
Que.ns es verais medicinaus;
Que s’abans anam a la mort,
D’aut en sus aurem alberc bas. over
Marcabrun 47
For I know what they were who died long ago, and most of
the living are true elder-trees, and you can say that he’s lucky
who finds laurel or olive-tree.
Even the gardener, along with the keeper, flies off, with the
wind, eyes closed; for simple smock and boots they have quit
fine mantle and shoes. And there’s no trace of the tenant, such
grief do willow and elder cause me! If king or count or duke
retains them not, they'll be for ever on the road.
May God preserve the valiant who have merit entire! For the
mighty wicked are as elder-trees, whereby the world is weak
in the head, and hence sick and confused.
Il. Pax in nomine Domini! Marcabrun fashioned the words and

the music. Hear what he says: how in His kindness the
heavenly Lord has fashioned for us a wash-place, near at
hand, such as there never was except overseas, yonder by
Jehosaphat; and by this one here I bring you comfort.
We should wash ourselves evening and morning, by rights, I

assure you of this: each has now the chance to do so. Until he is
hale and whole, each should go to that wash-place which is our
true source of healing. For if, before that, we come to death’s
door, then from on high we shall be most lowly lodged.
Mas Escarsedatz e No-fes
Part Joven de son compaigno.
Ai! cals dols es
Que tuich volon lai li plusor,
Don lo gazaings es enfernaus!
S’anz non correm al lavador
C’ajam la boca ni.ls huoills claus,
Noniaun dorguoill tant gras
C’al morir non trob contrafort.
Que.| Seigner que sap tot quant es,

E sap tot quant er, e c’anc fo,
Nos i promes
Honor e nom d’emperador;
E.il beutatz sera—sabetz caus,
De cels qu’iran al lavador ?
Plus que l’estela gauzignaus;
Ab sol que vengem Dieu del tort
Que.ill fan sai, e lai vas Domas.
Probet del lignatge Cai,

Del primeiran home felho,
A tans aissi
C’us a Dieu non porta honor;
Veirem qui.ll er amics coraus,
C’ab la vertut del lavador
Nos sera Jhesus comunaus;
E tornem los garssos atras .
Qu’en agur crezon et en sort.
E.il luxurios, corna-vi,

Coita-disnar, bufa-tizo,
Crup-en-cami,
Remanran inz el felpidor;
Dieus vol los arditz e.ls siiaus
Assajar a son lavador;
E cil gaitaran los ostaus,
E trobaran fort contrafort,
So per qu’ieu a lor anta.ls chas. over
Marcabrun 49
But Meanness and Perfidy part Youth from his companion.
Ah! what grief it is that most of them all fly there whereof the
profit is infernal. If we do not hasten to that wash-place before
our lips and our eyes are closed, there is not one so puffed with
pride but will find, on dying, the great enemy.
But the Lord Who knows all that is, and knows all that will be
and that ever was, promised us, there, honour and imperial
fame. And the splendour will be—know you what, for those
who go to that wash-place ?Greater than the morning star;
only provided that we avenge God of the wrong which they
do Him hereby, and yonder by Damascus.
So many are there, and such, of Cain’s lineage—of that first

wicked man—that not one honours God; we shall see who'll
be a loyal friend to Him, for, by the virtue of that wash-place,
Jesus will be among us. So let us drive back those base wretches
who believe in witchcraft and spells.
And the lechers, wine-tipplers, food-gobblers, fireside-squat-

ters, stick-in-the-muds, will all stay behind in their squalor. God
seeks to prove at His wash-place the bold and the humble,
while the rest will stay lurking in their homes, and they'll find
the great enemy; that’s why I hound them to their shame.
En Espaigna, sai, lo Marques
E cill del temple Salamo
Sofron lo pes
E.] fais de Porguoill paganor.
Per que Jovens cuoill avol laus,
E.l critz per aquest lavador
Versa sobre.ls plus rics captaus,
Fraitz, faillitz, de proeza las,
Que non amon Joi ni Deport.
Desnaturat son li Frances,

Si de l’afar Dieu dizon no,
Quwiie.us ai comes.
Antiocha, Pretz e Valor
Sai plora Guiana e Peitaus.
Dieus Seigner, al tieu lavador
L’arma del comte met en paus:
E sai gart Peitieus e Niort
Lo Seigner qui ressors del vas!
Gee Pus mos coratges s’esclarzis

Per selh joy don ieu suy jauzens,
E vey qu’Amors part e cauzis,
Per qu’ieu n’esper estre manens,
Ben dey tot mon chant esmerar
Qu’om re no m’i puesca falsar, ~
Que per pauc es hom desmentitz.
Aicel qui fin’Amors cauzis

Viu letz, cortes, e sapiens,
E selh, cui refuda, delis
E met a totz destruzemens;
Car qui fin’Amor vol blasmar
Elha.! fai si en folh muzar
Que, per art, cuid’esser peritz.
Cill son fals jutg’e raubador,

Fals molherat e jurador,
Fals home tenh e lauzengier, over
Marcabrun 57
In Spain, nearby, the Marquis and those of Solomnon’s temple
endure the weight and the burden of pagans’ pride through
which Youth falls into disrepute. And the outcry concerning this
wash-place falls on the mightiest leaders, those broken, forsworn
ones, weary of prowess, who love not Joy or Pleasure.
Degenerate are the French if they refuse the business of God’s

which I’ve committed to you. Antioch weeps for Merit and
Valour, and here, Guyenne and Poitou. Lord God, at your
wash-place grant peace to the soul of the Count, and may the
Lord Who rose from the tomb here protect Poitiers and Niort!
III. Since my heart grows bright by that joy which I rejoice in, and
I see that Love selects and singles out— whereby I hope to be
richly endowed—I must indeed make all my song pure so
that none might fault me for anything in it, since for little is one
belied.
He whom noble Love singles out lives gay, courtly and wise;
and he whom it rejects, it confounds, and commits to total
destruction. And he who would blame noble Love, it makes
him so fondly bemused that, in delusion, he thinks that his end
is come.
Such are false judges and thieves, false husbands and perjurors,
false impostors and flatterers,
Lengua-loguat, creba-mostier,
Et aissellas putas ardens
Qui son d’autrui maritz cossens;
Cyst auran guazanh ifernau.
Homicidi e traidor,
Simoniaic, encantador,
Luxurios e renovier,
Que vivon d’enujos mestier,
E cill que fan faitilhamens,
E las faitileiras pudens
Seran el fuec arden engau.
Ebriaic et escogossat,
Fals preveire e fals abat,
Falsas recluzas, fals reclus,
Lai penaran, ditz Marcabrus,
Que tuit li fals y an luec pres,
Car fin’Amors 0 a promes:
Lai er dols dels dezesperatz.
Ai! fin’Amors, fons de bontat,

C’as tot lo mon illuminat,
Merce ti clam, d’aquel grahus
E.m defendas qu’ieu lai no mus.
Qu’en totz luecx me tenh per ton pres;
Per confortat en totas res
Per tu esper estre guidatz.
Mon cors per aquest vers destrenh,

Quar mi plus que.lIs autres reprenh;
Que qui autrui vol encolpar
Dregs es que si sapcha guardar
Que no sia dels crims techitz
De qu’el ieys encolpa e ditz,
Pois poira segurs castiar.
Pero si es assatz cauzitz,

Sel que ben sap dire, e.] ditz,
Que pot, si se vol, remembrar.
Marcabrun 53
hired tongues and convent-plunderers, and those lusting

whores who say yes to other wives’ husbands; these will
reap their harvest in hell.
Murderers and traitors, simonists, sorcerers, lechers and

usurers who live by hateful means, and those who cast spells
and those stinking witches, they'll be in the burning fire, one
and all.
Drunkards and cuckolds, false priests and false abbots, false

recluses—men and women—they’ll suffer there, says Marca-
brun, for all the false ones there have appointed places, and this
has noble Love promised: in that place will be the grief of
those in despair.
Ah noble Love! fount of all goodness, who have illumined all

the world, mercy I beg of you, and from that torment protect
me, that I might not tarry there. For in all matters I deem
myself your captive; for comfort in all things I hope to be
guided by you.
My own self by this poem I constrain, for I take myself to task

more than the others, because it is right that he who would
accuse another should take care not to be tainted by the crime
of which he himself accuses and speaks; then he could in all
sureness Castigate.
Yet he is indeed well singled out, he who well knows how to

say, and says, that which he can, if he wishes, call to mind.
BY. Al son desviat chantaire
Veirai si puosc un vers faire
De fals’amistat menuda,
C’aissi leu pren e refuda,
Puois sai ven e lai mercada;
E morrai si no.m n’esclaire!
Cest’amors sap engan faire,

Ab engan ses aigua raire,
Puois, quand I’a ras, se remuda
E quier autrui cui saluda,
A cui es douss’e privada;
Tant que.| fols deven musaire.
Non puosc dompnas trobar gaire

Que blanch’amistatz no.i vaire,
A presen o a saubuda
N’aja vergoingna perduda,
Si que la meins afrontada
N’a laissat cazer un caire.
Moillerat, per Saint Ylaire,

Son d’una foldat confraire,
Qu’entr’els es guerra moguda
Tals que cornutz fa cornuda,
E cogotz copatz copada,
Puois eis la céa de braire.
Tals cuid’esser ben gardaire

De la so’e de l’autrui laire,
C’atretals es devenguda
D’aicel de sai que la cuida;
Si lus musa, l’autra bada,
E ieu sui del dich pechaire!
De nien sui chastiaire,

E de foudat sermonaire,
Car puois la flam’es nascuda
Del fol drut e de la druda,
Si.l fols art per l’abrasada,
No.n sui mal meire ni laire. over
Marcabrun Ep)
Singing on borrowed tune I'll see if I can make a poem about

false, mean-minded friendship which takes as readily as it
refuses, then sells here and haggles there; and I’ll die if I don’t
speak my mind about it.
This love knows how to practise guile, with guile to shave

without water, then, when it’s fleeced someone, it moves off
and looks for another whom it greets, and to whom it is sweet
and intimate, so much that the fool hankers for it.
I can scarce find ladies in whom fair friendship does not vary;
none who, in private or publicly, has not lost her shame, so
that even the least immodest has dropped some bit of it.
Married men, by Saint Hilary, are all brothers in one folly;

among them such war is waged that he who wears horns sets
horns on his wife’s head, and the cuckold, deceived, deceives
his wife, since the tail grows by dint of braying.
Such a one thinks he’s guarding well his wife and stealing
someone else’s who (for her part) is in the same position with
him who thinks the same about her; if the husband hankers,
the wife gapes, and I’m in the wrong for saying so!
In vain do I castigate and in folly I preach, for once the flame

has flared between the fond lover and his mistress, if the fool
burns for her who’s consumed by fire, I’m not at fault or to
blame for it.
Sé Treadadeur Lyra Poesy
Tant cant bos Jovens fon paire
Del segie e fin'Amors maire,
Fon Proeza mantenguda
A cet et 2 squbuda,
Mas er Fant avilinada
Duc e rei etemperaire.
Quileu sui assatz esprovaire

Deffendens et enquistaire,
E vei cum Jovens se tuda,
Per que Amors es perdada,
E de Joi deseretada,
E cum Amors es cupire.
L*’amors
don jeu sui mostraire
Nasquet
en un geatil aire,
E_] lnecs an ill es creguda
Es claus de rama branchoda
E de chaut e de gelada,
Qu’estrains no Pen puosca traire.
“‘Desirat per desiraire’

A nom qui.a vol Amor traire.
Emperaire, per vostre prez

E per ke proéeza q™u’avez,
Sui a vos venguz, zo sabez,
E no m’en dei ges penedir.
Meillz m’en degra lo pels sezer

Car chai Vine vostra cort verer,
Qu’eu farai leing e pres saber
Lo joi que vos es 2 venir.
S‘anc per vos demenei orguoill,

Tot m’es tornat en autre fooill:
Que tals mena bon fait en Fuaill
Que no s‘en ausa descobrir. over
Marcabrun by:
As long as fine Youth was father of the world and noble Love
its mother, Prowess was maintained, in private and public;
but now they’ve degraded it, dukes, kings and emperors.
And I am witness enough, for defence and prosecution, and I

see how Youth is extinguished—whereby Love’s lost and cut
off from Joy—and how Love is lost in delusion.
The love of which I’m speaking was born of a noble line, and
the place where it grew is protected by twining branches from
both heat and cold, so that the stranger might not take it away
from there.
“Desired by desirer’ is the name of him who seeks to take love

from there.
Emperor, for your merit and for the prowess which you have,
I am come to you, know this, and I should not at all regret it.
I should be in finer fettle since I came here to see your court,

and I’ll make known far and near the joy there is coming to
you.
If ever, on your account, I acted proudly, now has another

leaf been turned for me, for sucha one views well a good action
who dares not speak his mind about it.
Qui.l sap bon qu’eu sui tant poinenz
Als malvaz et als recredenz,
Per que n’a serradas las denz
E no.n ausa lo criz eissir?
Emperaire, si ben enquers,

Lo reprovers es fis e mers:
Co que donz dona e plora sers,
Las lacrimas devon perir.
Emperaire, si Dieus me gart,

S’eu me faill al vostre donar,
Jamais a gore qu’auza lauzar
Non ira Marcabruns pescar,
C’ades cuidaria faillir.
Per aquella fe qu’eu vos dei,

Anc mes emperador ni rei
Non agron tal marchat de mei
Con vos, e Dieus m’en lais jauzir!
Emperairiz, pregaz per mei,

Qu’eu farai vostre prez richir.
Vi Cortesamen vuoill comenssar

Un vers, si es qui l’escout’ar,
E puois tant m’en sui entremes,
Veirai si.l poirai affinar,
Qu’eras vuoill mon chan esmerar,
E dirai vos de maintas res.
Assatz pot hom villanejar

Qui Cortezia vol blasmar,
Que.! plus savis e.! mieills apres
Non sap tantas dire ni far
C’om no li posca enseignar
Petit o pro, tals hora es. over
Marcabrun 59
And he who is pleased that I’m so ready to attack the wicked
and the recreant, why does he keep his teeth tight clamped,
and the word of praise dares not come out?
Emperor, if you seek aright, the proverb is fine and true: when
the servant weeps for what the master gives away, the tears
should go unheeded.
Emperor, so help me God, if I miss your largesse, then never-

more will Marcabrun go to fish in a pool which he hears
praised, for he’d always think to miss.
By that faith which I owe you, never did emperors or kings get
such a bargain from me as you, and God grant that I benefit
from it.
Empress, intercede for me, and I’ll make your merit grow
greater.
V1. Incourtly manner I wish to begin a poem, if there’s anyone to

listen to it now. And since I’m thus far committed to it, I'll see
if I can make it fine, for now I wish to make pure my song and
T’ll tell you of many things.
He’s indeed capable of acting churlishly who seeks to blame

Courtliness, for the wisest and most learned man cannot say
or do so much pertaining to it but one could still teach him
something, great or small, at some time or another.
Go Troubadour Lyric Poetry
De Cortezia.is pot vanar
Qui ben sap Mesur’esguardar;
E qui tot vol auzir quant es,
Ni tot cant ve cuid’amassar,
Del tot l’es ops a mesurar,
O ja non sera trop cortes.
Mesura es de gen parlar,

E Cortezia es d’amar;
E qui non vol esser mespres,
De tota vilania.is gar,
D’escarnir e de folleiar,
Puois sera savis, ab qu’el pes.
C’aissi pot savis hom reignar,

E bona dompna meillurar;
Mas cella qu’en pren dos ni tres
E per un non si vol fiar,
Ben deu sos pretz asordeiar,
E sa valors a chascun mes.
Aitals amors fai a prezar

Que si meteissa ten a car;
E s'ieu en dic nuill vilanes
Per mal que la.n vueilh encolpar,
Be.ill lauzi fassa.m pro muzar,
Qu’ieu n’aurai so que.m n’a promes.
=
Lo vers e.l son vuoill enviar
A.N Jaufre Rudel outra mar,
E vuoill que Paujon li Frances
Per lor coratges alegrar;
Que Dieus lor 0 pot perdonar:
O sia pechatz, o merces.
Marcabrun 67
He can boast of Courtliness who knows well how to observe

Moderation; and if anyone would hear all that there is, or
thinks to assimilate all that he sees, then he must needs observe
Moderation in all things, or he’ll never be very courtly.
It is Moderation to speak gently, and Courtliness to love; and

may he who would not be despised beware of all vulgarity, of
mocking and of acting senselessly. Then he’ll be wise, provided
he bears this in mind.
For thus can the wise man behave, and the fine lady improve;
but as for her who takes two or three of them, and would not
keep faith with one, her merit and worth must surely decline,
month by month.
Such a love is to be prized which holds itself dearly; and if I

say anything crude about it through wanting to blame it for
some ill, then I approve that it keep me long waiting idly, to
have that which it has promised me.
I wish to send this poem and the melody to Sir Jaufré Rudel,
over the sea; and I would that the Frenchmen heard it so as to
gladden their hearts, for God can grant them this: wherever sin
be, may there be mercy.
a
oa
6
’ -
a
fi
“4
ans “ee
‘Bernard de Ventadour
LiFe. Although this poet is now considered to be one of the

greatest of the troubadours, little has come down to us con-
cerning the detailed circumstances of his life. A tradition,
according to which his parents were humble domestics in the
castle of Ventadour, stems from little more than a too literal
reading of a remark made in a satirical poem of the late twelfth
century. It is, however, most probable that he in fact spent his
early years (some time in the 1130s and 1140s) at the court
of Ventadour and that he there received, under the guidance
of the viscount Eblo his training in the art of lyric poetry. From
here, his career as a professional poet, extending over some
thirty years or so, took him to a number of courts in the South
of France, Toulouse and Narbonne included, and even, on one
occasion at least, to the court of Eleanor of Aquitaine, queen
of England by her marriage to Henry 11 and grand-daughter
of the first known troubadour. His thirteenth-century biog-
rapher, who, in his usual fashion, interprets as amorous liaisons
the relations between the professional poet and his various
patronesses, reports that Bernard finally withdrew into the
Cistercian abbey at Dalon. This last detail is more credible
than the others but lacks again, however, any documentary
proof.
woORKS. Bernard is one of the earliest of that steadily increas-
ing number of professional troubadours who appear on the
scene from about the middle of the twelfth century. In the
forty or so poems attributed to him, all but two of which are
love-songs, one can see the first full flowering of the trouba-
dours’ art, as indeed the period of his literary activity (c.
1145—-c. 1175 )coincides with the full expansion of the cult of
that art throughout the South of France. By the richness of his
poetic imagination, as by his technical mastery, the limited
formal and thematic material of his predecessors is magnifi-
cently exploited and expanded. It receives its first, classical,
formulation which will provide the model for all later poets
working in the same tradition.
Less expository than William 1x, less intensely abstract
than Jaufré Rudel, Bernard dramatises, renders more person-
ally immediate, the ideal aspirations of courtly love. Into the
structure of the canso he will introduce, for example, temporal,
anecdotic and narrative material, while of that structure he will
make a pattern of dialectic alternation—un tremblement affectif
as one critic puts it—by which he formulates an opposition
between the objectivity of the courtly ideal and the subjectivity
of his own poetic experience. No less than his predecessors, he
proposes the ideal of courtly love; his originality lies in the
way in which he sets out to demonstrate its authenticity by
showing how he, as poet-lover, is involved in an emotional
situation created by that ideal. The love-song becomes a
dramatic performance; while it lasts, it portrays as real an
experience of the courtly ideal. Small wonder that Bernard’s
biographer credited him with so many passionate affairs; small
wonder, too, that in the biographer’s wake modern critics tend
to ascribe to him the dominant—albeit somewhat proble-
matical—quality of ‘sincerity’.
EDITION. C. Appel Bernart von Ventadorn, seine Lieder (Halle
1915 ).
SELECTION. The first poem reproduced (Appel no. 15) is
in the nature of a literary manifesto, expounding the poet’s
concept of love and of poetry, and actually creating the rdle
of poet-lover which will be played out in most of his lyrics.
Sincerity becomes an artistic attitude—perhaps the hired
poet’s defence against an anticipated charge of professional-
ism—and already we see created the tension between an ideal
of mutually shared love and desire, and the ‘real’ situation of
the submissive, unrequited, lover. In the second poem (Appel
no. 23) the tension breaks into conflict which itself, in the
course of the poem, moves to resolution—thanks to the ever-
helpful motif of the /awzenger. The structural pattern, by which
the unfolding of the poem itself follows the peripeteia of the
poet’s emotional drama, is repeated, with variation, in the next
two pieces (Appel nos. 29 and 43), while, in the last pieces
(Appel nos. 39 and 30), the poet opposes the fixity of his
emotional state to all that which, in his fantasy, he desires (no.
Bernard de Ventadour 65
5) or to the general instability of time-bound human ex-

istence (no. 6). Apparent, too, in all six pieces, is the tremend-
ous technical skill of Bernard de Ventadour, both in the obvious
perfection of his stanza-structures and in the more subtle de-
tails of sound, rhythm and word-patterns which, with such
apparent spontaneity, are made to correspond to the mood
which the poet seeks to formulate, be it pathos, anger, distress,
or overwhelming joy.
Chantars no pot gaire valer
Si d’ins dal cor no mou lo chans,
Ni chans no pot dal cor mover
Si no.i es fin’amors coraus.
Per so es mos chantars cabaus,
Qu’en joi d’amor ai et enten
La boch’e.Is olhs e.! cor e.l sen.
Ja Deus no.m don aquel poder

Que d’amor no.m prenda talans!
Si ja re no.n sabi’aver,
Mas chascun jorn m’en vengues maus,
Totz tems n’aurai bo cor, sivaus;
E n’ai mout mais de jauzimen
Car n’ai bo cor e m’iaten.
Amor blasmen per no-saber

Fola gens, mas leis no.n es dans,
C’amors no.n pot ges dechazer
Si non es amors comunaus.
Aisso non es amors; aitaus
No.n a mas lo nom e.! parven
Que re non ama si no pren.
S’eu en volgues dire lo ver,

Eu sai be de cui mou l’enjans:
D’aquelas c’amon per aver,
E son merchandandas venaus.
Messongers en fos eu e faus!
Vertat en dic vilanamen,
E peza me car eu no.n men.
En agradar et en voler
Es l’amors de dos fis amans.
Nula res no.i pot pro tener
Si.lh voluntatz non es egaus.
E cel es be fols naturaus
Que, de so que vol, la repren,
E.lh lauza so que no.lh es gen. over
Singing cannot much avail, if from within the heart comes not
the song; nor can the song come from the heart, unless there be
there noble love, heartfelt. Hence is my singing supreme, for in
love’s joy I hold and direct my mouth, my eyes, my heart, my
understanding.
May God never grant me that power not to take liking for
love! Were I never to know how to have aught of it, but that
each day pain should come to me from it, still will I have good
heart, at least; and thereby I have more cause to rejoice, since
for it | have good heart and for it I strive.
Foolish people blame love, through ignorance, but that’s no

harm to it; for love can in no way fail for that, if it’s not com-
mon love. This is not love, such has only its name and
semblance, which loves no thing unless it gains from it.
If Iwould speak the truth of it, I know well from whom comes
the delusion: from those women who love for wealth, and they
are common whores. Would that I were a liar in this, and false!
I speak the truth of it in uncouth way, and I’m grieved that
therein I lie not.
In accord and in assent is the love of two noble lovers. Nothing

can be of profit in it if the will thereto is not mutual. And he is
indeed a natural fool who blames her for that which she wishes,
and commends to her that which becomes her not.
Mout ai be mes mo bon esper
Cant cela.m mostra beis sembians
Qu’eu plus dezir e volh vezer,
Francha, doussa, fin’e leiaus,
En cui lo reis seria saus,
Bel’e conhd’ab cors covinen,
M’a faih ric ome de nien.
Re mais no.n am ni sai temer,

Ni ja res no.m seri’afans,
Sol midons vengues a plazer;
C’aicel jorns me sembla Nadaus
C’ab sos bels olhs espiritaus
M’esgarda, mas so fai tan len
C’us sols dias me dura cen!
Lo vers es fis e naturaus,

E bos celui que be I’enten,
E melher es, qui. joi aten.
Bernartz de Ventadorn I’enten,

E.1 di e.] fai, e.] joi n’aten.
Il. La dousa votz ai auzida

Del rosinholet sauvatge,
Et es m’ins el cor salhida &
Si que tot lo cosirer
Els mals traihz qu’amors me dona,
M’adousa e m’asazona.
Et auria.m be mester
L’autrui joi al meu damnatge.
Ben es totz om d’avol vida

C’ab joi non a son estatge,
E qui vas amor no guida
So cor e so dezirer;
Car tot can es s’'abandona
Vas joi, e refrim’e sona:
Prat e deves e verger,
Landas e pla e boschatge. over
Right well have I my good hope placed when she whom I
most desire and long to see shows me fair face; pure, gentle,
noble and loyal, in whom the king would salvation find, lovely
and graceful, with pleasing body, she has made me a rich man
from naught.
I love and can fear nothing more than her, and nothing would
ever be hardship for me, provided only it come to please my
lady;for that day seems Christmas when she with her lovely,
spiritual eyes looks on me. But she’s so slow to do it that one
day alone lasts for me a hundred!
The poem is fine and natural, and good to him who under-
stands it well, and better it is if one hopes for the joy.
Bernard de Ventadour understands it; he recites it, and makes

it, and hopes for its joy.
hs I have heard the woodland nightingale’s sweet voice, and it

has leaped into my heart, so that it soothes and softens all my
care and the fell blows which love deals me; and well would
another’s joy serve me in my distress.
Any man is indeed of base life who has not his dwelling with
joy, and who directs not towards love his heart and his desir-
ing, since all that is, gives itself up to joy, and rings and is full
of song: meadows and parklands and orchards, heathlands and
plains and woods.
zo Troubadour Lyric Poetry
Eu las! cui Amors oblida
Que sui fors del dreih viatge;
Agra de joi ma partida,
Mas ira.m fai destorber;
E no sai on me repona
Pus mo joi me desazona.
E no.m tenhatz per leuger
S’eu dic alcu vilanatge.
Une fausa deschauzida

Trairitz de mal linhatge
M’a trait, et es traida,
E colh lo ram ab que:s fer.
E can autre l’arazona,
D’eus lo seu tort l’ochaizona.
Et an ne mais li derrer
Qu’eu, qui n’ai faih lonc badatge.
Mout l’avia gen servida

Tro ac vas mi cor volatge;
E pus ilh no m’es cobida,
Mout sui fols si mais la ser.
Servirs c’om no gazardona,
Et esperansa bretona,
Fai de senhor escuder,
Per costum e per uzatge.
Pois tan es vas me falhida,

Aisi lais so senhoratge,
E no volh que.m si’aizida,
Ni ja mais parlar no.n quer;
Mas pero qui m’en razona,
La paraula m’en es bona,
E men esjau volonter,
E.m n’alegre mo coratge.
Deus li do mal’escharida
Qui porta mauvais mesatge!
Qu’eu agra amor jauzida
Si no foso lauzenger. over
Bernard de Ventadour Gili
Alas for me, whom Love forgets, for I’m off the proper path! I
would have myshare of joy but sorrow troubles me, and I know
not where I might find rest, when it turns my joy to bitterness.
So deem me not frivolous if I say something uncouth.
A false, unseemly, traitress of base lineage has betrayed me,

and is herself betrayed, and plucks the switch with which she
beats herself. When another arraigns her, she accuses him of
her own wrong; and the last to come have more from her than
I, who have for her stood waiting long.
I had most nobly served her, till she showed me a fickle heart;
and since she’s not accorded me, I’m a great fool if I serve her
more. Service which is not rewarded, like the Bretons’ hope,
makes of a lord a squire by custom and habit.
Since she’s so faithless to me, I quit then her dominion, and I

want her not to be near me, nor do I seek ever to speak of her
more; but yet, if one talks to me of her, such talk is pleasant
to me, and I rejoice in it readily and gladden my heart thereby.
God grant a wretched fate to him who bears bad tidings! For
I would have had love’s joy had it not been for tale-tellers.
Fols es qui ab sidons tensona,
Qu’e.lh perdo s’ela.m perdona,
E tuih cilh son mesonger
Que.m n’an faih dire folatge.
Lo vers mi porta, Corona,

Lai a midons a Narbona;
Que tuih sei faih son enter,
C’om no.n pot dire folatge.
I1l. Lo rossinhols s’°esbaudeya

Josta la flor el verjan,
E pren m’en tan grans enveya
Qu’eu no posc mudar no chan;
Mas no sai de que, ni de cui,
Car eu non am me, ni autrui.
E fatz esfortz, car sai faire
Bo vers, pois no sui amaire!
Mais a d’amor qui domneya

Ab orgolh et ab enjan
Que cel que tot jorn merceya
Ni.s vai trop umilian,
C’a penas vol Amors celui
Qu’es francs e fis si cum eu sui.
So m’a tout tot mon afaire: “
C’anc no fui faus ni trichaire.
C’aissi com lo rams si pleya

Lai o.1 vens lo vai menan,
Era ,vas lei que.m guerreya,
Aclis, per far so coman.
Per aisso m’afol’e.m destrui,
Don a mal linhatge redui,
C’ams los olhs li don a traire
S’autre tort me pot retraire.
Soven me rept’e.m plaideya

E.m vai ochaisos troban, over
Bernard de Ventadour OG:
He’s a fool who quarrels with his mistress, so I forgive her if
she forgives me, and they are all liars who have made me speak
folly of her.
Take for me the poem, Corona, there to my lady in Narbonne;

for all her deeds are perfect, and one cannot speak folly of her.
iit. The nightingale makes merry by the blossom on the bough,

and such great envy takes me that I cannot help but sing; but
I know not of what, nor of whom, for I love not myself nor
another. And I’m making great efforts, for 1 can make good
verse when I am not in love!
He gains more from love who pays court with pride and
deceit than he who is ever suppliant and most humble. For love
has no time for one who is frank and noble as I am. This has
bereft me of all that was mine to do: that I never was false or
deceitful.
But, as the bough bends there where the wind sways it, so was
I, towards her who assails me, bent to do her will. For this she
crazes and confounds me, whereby she sinks to low-born
ways; and I give her both eyes to pluck out if she can blame
me for other wrong.
She often indicts and accuses me, and goes making up charges
against me;
I4 Troubadour Lyric Poetry
E can ilh en re feuneya
Vas me versa tot lo dan!
Gen joga de me e.s desdui,
Que d’eus lo seu tort me conclui!
Mas ben es vertatz que laire
Cuida tuih sion sei fraire.
Om no la ve que no creya
Sos bels olhs e so semblan;
E no cre quilh aver deya
Felo cor, ni mal talan,
Mas laiga que sau s’adui
Es peyer que cela que brui.
Enjan fai qui de bon aire
Sembla, e non o es gaire.
De tot loc on ilh esteya

Me destolh e.m vau lonhan,
E per so que no la veya
Pas li, mos olhs claus, denan.
Quar selh siec amor qui.s n’esdui,
E cel enchaussa qui la fui.
Ben ai en cor del estraire
Tro que vas midons repaire.
Ja non er, si tot me greya,

Qu’enquer fin e plaih no.lh man,
Que greu m’es C’aissi.m recreya
Ni perda tan lonc afan.
A sos ops me gart e m’estui,
E sinon em amic amdui,
D’autr’amor no m’es vejaire
Que ja mais mos cors s’esclaire.
Enaissi fos pres com eu sui

Mos Alvernhatz, e foram dui,
Que plus no.s pogues estraire
D’En Bel Vezer de Belcaire.
Tristan, si no.us es veyaire,

Mais vos am que no solh faire. over
and when she acts basely in anything, she makes the fault fall
on me! Softly she plays and makes sport of me, in damning
me with her very own wrong! But indeed it’s the truth that
the thief believes all are his brothers.
No one sees her but believes in her lovely eyes and her appear-
ance, and he thinks not that she should have fell heart or evil
mind. But the water which glides by softly is worse than the
noisy one. He deceives who seems of good nature and is not
at all.
From every place where she might dwell, I turn and go far
off; and, so that I might not see her, I pass by her, eyes shut
tight. For he follows love who avoids it, and it pursues him
who flees it; 1have indeed in mind to forsake it, until it returns
to my lady.
It will not be, although she tortures me, but still I'll ask her for
a truce and for peace; for it grieves me thus to quit, and to
squander such long-suffering. May she keep and confine me
for hers and, if we are not both lovers, it seems to me that by
no other love will my heart be ever illumined.
Would that my friend Auvergnat were taken as I am, and then

we'd be two, for he could no more quit Sir Bel Vezer of Beau-
caire.
Tristan, though it seems not to you, I love you more than |

used to.
IV. Can vei la lauzeta mover
De joi sas alas contra.] rai,
Que s’oblid’e.s laissa chazer
Per la doussor c’al cor li vai,
Ai, tan grans enveya m’en ve
De cui qu’eu veya jauzion,
Meravilhas ai car desse
Lo cor de dezirer no.m fon.
Ai las, tan cuidava saber

D’amor, e tan petit en sai!
Car eu d’amar no.m posc tener
Celeis don ja pro non aurai.
Tout m’a mo cor e tout m’a me,
E se mezeis e tot lo mon,
E can se.m tolc, no.m laisset re
Mas dezirer e cor volon.
Anc non agui de me poder

Ni no fui meus de l’or’en sai
Que.m laisset en sos olhs vezer,
En un miralh que mout me plai.
Miralhs, pus me mirei en te,
M’an mort li sospir de préon,
C’aissi.m perdei com perdet se
Lo bels Narcisus en la fon.
De las domnas me dezesper; .

Ja mais en lor no.m fiarai,
C’aissi com las solh chaptener,
Enaissi las deschaptenrai.
Pois vei c’una pro no m’en te
Vas leis que.m destrui e.m cofon,
Totas las dopt’e las mescre,
Car be sai c’atretals se son.
D’aisso.s fa be femna parer

Ma domna, per qu’e.lh o retrai,
Car no vol so c’om deu voler
E so c’om li deveda, fai. over
Bernard de Ventadour a,
LN. When I see the lark beating with joy its wings against the ray
of the sun until, oblivious, it swoons and drops for the sweet-
ness which enters its heart, ah, such great envy takes me of
whatever I see rejoicing, I marvel that on the instant my heart
melts not with desire.
Alas, I thought to know so much of love, and I know of it so

little ! For I cannot help loving her from whom good will never
come to me. She has taken from me my heart, and taken myself
from me, and her own self and all the world; and when from
me she took herself, she left me naught but desire and a longing
heart.
I never had mastery of myself, nor was I ever mine from the
moment when she let me see into her eyes, into a mirror which
pleases me much. Mirror, since I mirrored myself in you,
sighs from deep down have slain me, and thus I was lost as,
in the pool, the fair Narcissus was lost.
Of ladies I despair, never more will I trust in them; and, just as

I used to hold them dear, so will I hold them for naught. Since
I see that not one of them gives me help against her who
destroys and confounds me, I doubt them all and mistrust them,
for I know they are all the same.
By this my lady well shows herself a woman, and hence I

reproach her this: that she wants not that which one ought to
want, and that which one forbids her, she does.
Chazutz sui en mala merce,

Et ai be faih co.l fols en pon;
E no sai per que m’esdeve
Mas car trop puyei contra mon.
Merces es perduda per ver,

Et eu non o saubi anc mai,
Car cilh qui plus en degr’aver
No.n a ges, et on la querrai?
A, can mal sembla, qui la ve,
Qued aquest chaitiu deziron
Que ja ses leis non aura be
Laisse morir, que no aon!
Pus ab midons no.m pot valer

Precs ni merces ni] dreihz qu’eu ai,
Nia leis no ven a plazer
Qu’eu I'am, ja mais no.lh o dirai.
Aissi.m part de leis e.m recre;
Mort m’a e per mort li respon,
E vau m’en, pus ilh no.m rete,
Chaitius, en issilh, no sai on.
Tristans, ges non auretz de me,

Qu’eu m’en vau, chaitius, no sai on.
De chantar me gic e.m recre,
E de joi e d’amor m’escon.
Can lerba fresch’e.lh folha par,

E la flors boton’el verjan,
E.] rossinhols autet e clar
Leva sa votz, e mou so chan,
Joi ai de lui, e joi ai de la flor,
E joi de me e de midons major;
Daus totas partz sui de joi claus e sens,
Mas sel es jois que totz autres jois vens. over
I’ve fallen into bad grace, and have indeed done like the fool
on the bridge; and I know not why this happens to me, except
because I tried to climb too high.
Mercy is lost, in truth, and that I never once knew; for she who
should have most of it has none at all—where then shall I seek
it? Ah! how little it appears to one who sees her, that this
wretch so full of longing, who will never have good without
her, she lets die, and helps him not.
Since with my lady neither prayer nor mercy, nor the right
that I have can avail me, and it comes not to please her that I
love her, I'll never more tell her so. Thus I part from her, and
give up; she has caused my death and by death I answer her
and go away, since she does not retain me, a wretch, into exile,
I know not where.
Tristan, you'll have nothing from me, for I’m going away, a
wretch, I know not where. I quit and give up singing, and from
joy and from love I take leave.
When the fresh grass and the leaf appears, and the flower
blossoms on the bough, and the nightingale raises high and
clear its voice and pours out its song, joy I have for it, and joy
for the flower, and joy for myself and for my lady yet more: on
all sides I am bound and circled by joy, but that is joy which
all other joys overwhelms.
Ai las, com mor de cossirar!

Que manhtas vetz en cossir tan,
Lairo m’en poirian portar
Que re no sabria que.s fan.
Per Deu, Amors, be.m trobas vensedor,
Ab paucs d’amics e ses autre senhor.
Car una vetz tan midons no destrens
Abans qu’eu fos del dezirer estens?
Meravilh me com posc durar

Que no.lh demostre mo talan.
Can eu vei midons ni l’esgar,
Li seu bel olh tan be l’estan
Per pauc me tenh car eu vas leis no cor.
Si feira eu, si no fos per paor,
C’anc no vi cors melhs talhatz ni depens
Ad ops d’amar sia tan greus ni lens.
Tan am midons e la tenh car,

E tan la dopt’e la reblan,
C’anc de me no.lh auzei parlar,
Ni re no.lh quer ni re no.lh man.
Pero ilh sap mo mal e ma dolor,
E can li plai, mi fai ben et onor,
E can li plai, eu m’en sofert ab mens,
Per so c’a leis non avenha blastens.
S’eu saubes la gen enchantar,

Mei enemic foran efan,
Que ja us no saubra triar
Ni dir re que.ns tornes a dan.
Adoncs sai eu que vira la gensor,
E sos bels olhs e sa frescha color,
E baizera.lh la bocha en totz sens
Si que d’un mes i paregra lo sens.
Be la volgra sola trobar,

Que dormis, o.n fezes semblan,
Per qu’e.lh embles un doutz baizar,
Pus no valh tan qu’eu lo.Ih deman.
Per Deu, domna, pauc esplecham d’amor! over
Alas, how I die of deep thought! For many a time I am so deep

in thought that robbers could carry me off and I’d know naught
of what they do. By God, love, you find me indeed easy to con-
quer, with few friends and no other lord! Why did you but
once not constrain my lady, before I was consumed by desire ?
I marvel how I can endure not to reveal to her my longing.

When I see my lady and behold her, her lovely eyes so well
become her that I can scarce hold back from running towards
her. So would I, were it not for fear, for I never saw person
more well-shaped and fashioned for love to be yet so slow and
reluctant.
I love my lady so much and hold her dear, I fear her so much
and respect her, that I never dared speak to her of myself, nor
seek I anything, nor ask I anything of her. Yet she’s aware of
my pain and my sorrow, and when it pleases her she does me
honour and good, and when it pleases her I am content with
less, so that from it there might come to her no reproach.
If I could enchant people, my enemies would be children, so

that not one could ever spy out or say anything that might do
us harm. Then I know that I would see the most noble one,
and her fair eyes and her fresh complexion; and I would cover
her mouth with kisses so that for a month the mark would
show.
Well would I like to find her alone while she slept or pre-
tended to, that I might steal from her a sweet kiss, since I’m
not so worthy as to ask it of her. By God, lady, little of love do
we achieve!
Vai s’en lo tems e perdem lo melhor.
Parlar degram ab cubertz entresens
E, pus no.ns val arditz, valgues nos gens!
Be deuri’om domna blasmar

Can trop vai son amic tarzan,
Que lonja paraula d’amar
Es grans enois, e par d’enjan;
C’amar pot om e far semblan alhor,
E gen mentir lai on non a autor.
Bona domna, ab sol c’amar mi dens,
Ja per mentir eu no serai atens.
Messatger, vai, e no m’en prezes mens

S’eu del anar vas midons sui temens.
Vi. Lo tems vai e ven e vire

Per jorns, per mes, e per ans;
Et eu, las, no.n sai que dire,
C’ades es us mos talans.
Ades es us e no.s muda,
C’una.n volh e.n ai volguda,
Don anc non aic jauzimen.
Pois ela no.n pert lo rire,

A me.n ven e dols e dans;
C’a tal joc m’a faih assire
Don ai lo peyor dos tans— ~
C’aitals amors es perduda
Qu’es d’una part mantenguda—
Tro que fai acordamen.
Be deuri’esser blasmaire
De me mezeis, a razo,
C’anc no nasquet cel de maire
Que tan servis en perdo.
E s’ela no m’en chastia,
Ades doblara.lh folia,
Que fols no tem tro que pren. over
Time goes by and we lose the best of it; we should speak with
secret signs and, since boldness avails us not, may guile avail us!
A man should indeed blame his lady when too much she goes
putting him off; for long talk of loving is most tedious and
equal to deceit. For one can love and make a pretence else-
where, and smoothly lie there where there’s no sure proof.
Good lady, if only you deign to love me, I will never be
tainted by lies.
Messenger go, and do not esteem me less if I’m afraid of going

to my lady.
Vas Time comes and goes and runs its round in days, in months, in
years; and I, alas, know not what to say of that, for my longing
is ever one. One is it ever and does not change, for one I desire
and have desired, of whom I never had joy.
Since she doesn’t stop laughing for that, to me comes both

grief and harm; and she’s made me sit down to such a game
whereof I have the worst twice over—for such love is lost
that’s upheld on one side only —until she make her peace.
I should indeed be mine own accuser by rights, for never was

there born of mother one who served so much in vain; and if
she does not turn me from it, then doubled will be my folly, for
(only) a fool fears not until he suffers.
Ja mais no serai chantaire,
Ni de l’escola N’Eblo,
Que mos chantars no val gaire,
Ni mas voutas ni mei so.
Ni res qu’eu fassa ni dia
No conosc que pros me sia,
Ni no.i vei melhuramen.
Si tot fatz de joi parvensa,

Mout ai dins lo cor irat.
Qui vid anc mais penedensa
Faire denan lo pechat?
On plus la prec, plus m’es dura,
Mas si’n breu tems no.s melhura,
Vengut er al partimen.
Pero ben es qu’ela.m vensa

A tota sa voluntat,
Que s’el’a tort, o bistensa,
Ades n’aura pietat;
Que so mostra l’escriptura:
Causa de bon’aventura
Val us sols jorns mais de cen.
Ja no.m partrai, a ma vida,

Tan com sia sals ni sas,
Que pois l’arma n’es issida,
Balaya lonc tems lo gras;
E si tot no s’es cochada,
Ja per me no.n er blasmada, .
Sol d’eus adenan s’emen.
Ai, bon’amors encobida,

Cors be faihz, delgatz e plas,
Frescha chara colorida,
Cui Deus formet ab sas mas!
Totz tems vos ai dezirada,
Que res autra no m’agrada.
Autr’amor no volh nien.
Dousa res ben ensenhada,

Cel que.us a tan gen formada
Me.n do cel joi qu’eu n’aten!
Never more will I be a singer, nor of Sir Eblo’s school, for my

singing is of no avail, neither my trills nor my melodies. And
whatever I do or say, I know not how it might profit me, nor
do I see in it any chance of improvement.
Though I make a show of joy, my heart, within, is most sad.

Who ever once saw penance done before the sin ? The more I
entreat her, the harder she is to me, but if she changes not soon
for the better, it will come to a parting of ways.
Yet it is well that she subjects me to her whole will, for if she’s
wrong, or delays, she will soon have pity for it; and this the
Scriptures declare: on account of good fortune, one single day
is worth more than a hundred.
I'll never quit, throughout my life, for as long as I’m hale and
whole; for after the soul has gone from it, the flesh flutters long
in the wind; and though she has never made haste, she’ll never
be blamed by me for that, if only from now on she makes
amends herself.
Ah, good and desirable loved one, body well-formed, smooth

and slender, fresh and fair-complexioned flesh which God
fashioned with His hands! All times I have desired you, and no
other gives me pleasure. No other love do I want at all.
Sweet and most gracious being, may He who so finely

fashioned you grant me that joy which I hope for!
‘Peire d’Auvergne
LiFe. Peire d’Auvergne, a townsman’s son from the diocese

of Clermont-Ferrand according to his mediaeval biographer,
probably began his career as a professional troubadour in the
mid-1150s. His earliest dateable poem shows him already
sufficiently well-established to be received, in 1157-1158, at
the court of Sancho 111 of Castile. Other poems indicate his
activity in Provence and the Languedoc as well as in N. Spain,
while the latest one which can be dated with any degree of
certainty shows him taking part in a festive fathering held at or
near Puivert (Aude) in the year 1170. Regarding the later part
of his life, even his early biographer is vague; there is a sugges-
tion that he entered a religious order, but this, like all other
aspects of his last years, remains a matter for speculation.
w oRrKS. Although relatively limited in number—no more than
twenty poems are now attributed to him—Peire d’Auvergne’s
compositions are remarkably varied in both form and subject-
matter. While echoes of his predecessors and early contempo-
raries, of Marcabrun especially, are numerous, the general
impression gained from his work is of a sustained ambition to
renew and extend the scope of established poetic traditions.
The ethical preoccupations inhefent in early courtly poetry,
for example, are not unknown to him, but, for the first time,
they are clearly rivalled as a source of inspiration by concepts
which are purely and simply christian in nature. The result is
that in at least four of his poems the cazso is transformed into a
sermon, a prayer, or a hymn. For the first time too, we see in
this troubadour’s work a more than occasional preoccupation
with the subject of poetry itself. Few clearly-defined aesthetic
concepts emerge, it is true. Often it is difficult to establish the
proper relationship between stated principle and observable
practice, while certain affirmations suggest little more than a
Peire d’Auvergne 87
desire to outshine, in semi-jocular mood, his professional

rivals. It is nevertheless agreed that such preoccupations
anticipate the more serious and detailed discussion of poetic
styles and functions which will involve many of the most emi-
nent troubadours of the 1170s and 1180s. During this period,
poets begin to debate among themselves, in their own verse,
the principles of their art; in this process as in others, occupy-
ing an intermediary position between such great founding
figures as Marcabrun and Bernard de Ventadour and the
outstanding troubadours of the later part of the century,
Peire d’Auvergne plays a significant réle, ensuring continuity
between the generations and exploring on his own account
new areas of creative activity.
EDITION. A.Del Monte Peire D*Alvernha, Liriche, (Turin
1955)-
SELECTION. Of the four poems selected (Del Monte nos. 3,
II, 15, 16), the first is an accomplished though fairly conven-
tional love-song strongly reminiscent, in its themes, of
Bernard de Ventadour but, at the same time, deliberately
echoing William 1x’s chansoneta nueva (selection no. 5) by its
choice of isolated rime-words in -am. The second poem is
almost entirely devoted to the subject of poetry; vague in its
allusions but fairly specific in its charges, humorously self-
assertive in its somewhat exaggerated claims, it also consti-
tutes one of the earliest contributions to the literary contro-
versy which will engage many of Peire’s later contemporaries.
The next poem, a moral sirventés, reveals clearly the influence
of Marcabrun in both thematic material and stylistic devices.
The immediate pointedness of the Gascon is now, however,
somewhat blunted by the poet’s manifest preoccupation with
sheer formal complexity and technical ingenuity. Certain of
Marcabrun’s procedures are further apparent in the fourth
poem—the garden symbolising earthly life, for instance, and
the adoption, for the occasion, of the preacher’s tone and
attitude— but once again Peire d’Auvergne is seen to be break-
ing new ground. There is no longer an attempt to fuse together
courtly, chivalric, and christian ethical concepts into one
aristocratic ideal; traditional christian topics alone provide
the subject of this early example of what will later become a
typical genre of secular lyric verse.
Ab fina joia comenssa
Lo vers, qui bels motz assona,
E de re no.i a faillenssa;
Mas no m’es bon ge l’apreigna
Tals cui mos chans non coveigna,
Q’ieu non vuoill avols chantaire,
Cel qui tot chan desfaissona,
Mon doutz sonet torn’en bram.
D’amor ai la sovinenssa
Els bels digz, ren plus no.m dona;
Mas per bona atendenssa
Esper c’alcus jois m’en veigna.
.L segles vol c’om si capteigna,
Segon que pot sempres faire
Q’en breu temps plus asazona,
Q’a pro d’aisso don ac fam.
Bel semblan n’ai en parvenssa,

Que gen m’acuoill e.m razona;
Mas del plus no.m fai cossenssa,
Ni.s taing que tant aut mi ceigna,
Ni tan rics jois m’endeveigna
On coven us emperaire.
Pro fai car sol gen mi sona,
Ni car sofre q’ieu la am.
Mout mi fai granda temenssa,

Car tant pauc si abandona;
Jois q’enaissi trop bistenssa
Mout mostra mal’entresseigna.
Si cum li plaira mi teigna,
Que tant no.m fai gran mal traire;
Sel so que no l’encaisona,
Tant no.m ten en greu liam.
Ses pechat fis penedenssa,

Et es tort qui no.m perdona;
Et ieu fatz long’entendenssa
Per tal perdon que no.m deigna. over
With noble joy the poem begins which rimes fair words
together, and there’s no fault in anything therein; but it pleases
me not that such a one should learn it whom my song does not
befit. ’ve no wish that some wretched singer, the sort who
ruins any song, should turn my sweet melody to braying.
I am mindful of love and its fair speech, it gives me nothing

more; but by patient waiting I hope that some joy of it may
come to me. Life in the world demands that one should act in
that way, considering that it can always happen that in a short
time things get better, so that one has in plenty that for which
one hungered.
I have from her an outward show of favour, for with grace she
receives me and addresses me; but of the rest she concedes me
nothing, nor is it proper that I should aspire so high, or that
such rich joy should befall me as an emperor would find fitting.
She does enough in this alone, that with grace she speaks to me
and suffers that I love her.
So much does she inspire in me great fear, for she gives of

herself so little; joy that is thus too reluctant shows a most
disagreeable sign. Just as it pleases her, may she retain me, for
she does not make me suffer so much great pain; I’m not the
one to reproach her, she does not hold me so much in grievous
bondage.
Without sin I did penance, and it’s wrong if I’m not forgiven;
yet I have long set my heart on such forgiveness as she grants
me not.
Assatz cuig que mal m’en preigna,
Que perdutz es desesperaire.
Per c’ai’ esperanssa bona,
Pel nostre don mi reclam.
Ben es fis de gran valenssa

Mos cors, s’agest m’abarona
Per cui totz pretz creis e genssa;
E sap pauc qui so m’enseigna
Que ja nuill’autra.m sosteigna.
Tant bella filla de maire,
Ni tant cum cels plou ni trona,
Non ac tal el ling d’Azam.
Als comtes mand en Prodenssa

Lo vers, e sai a Narbona,
Lai on pren jois mantenenssa
Segon agels per cui reigna.
E ieu trob sai qi.m reteigna,
Tal dompna don sui amaire;
Non ges a la lei gascona;
Segon las nostras amam.
Il. Sobre. vieill trobar e.1 novel

Vueill mostrar mon sen als sabens,
Qu’entendon be aquels c’a venir so:
C’anc, tro per me, no fo faitz vers entiers.
E qui non cre quieu sia verdaditrs,
Auja dese con estau a razo.
Qu’ieu tenh ’us—e.l pan e.l coutel

De que.m platz apanar las gens—
Que d’est mestier an levat en pairo,
Ses acordier, que no.s rompa.l semdiers.
Qwieu dic que nier mi mostr’els faitz non niers,
Qu’a fol parlier ten hom lui e.] sermo.
C’a un tenen, ses mot borrel,

Deu de dir esser avinens; over
Peire d'Auvergne 91
I think indeed that ill will befall me, for a man without hope
is lost; so that I may have good hope, in our Lord’s name I
appeal.
My person is assured of great worthiness, if this one ennobles

me through whom all merit increases and grows more fair;
and he knows little who advises me this: that any other lady
should ever comfort me. So fair a mother’s daughter, by as
much as the sky sheds rain, and thunders, there never was in
Adam’s line.
To the Counts in Provence I commend the poem, and hereby

at Narbonne, there where joy has its cult, thanks to those
through whom it reigns. And I find here to retain me sucha lady
whose lover I am; not at all in the Gascon fashion; in our own
ways do we love.
On the old style of poetry and the new, I would speak my mind
to the knowing who well understand those to come; never,
until by me, had whole verse been written. And if anyone
thinks that I’m not telling the truth, let him hear now how I
stand on reason’s side.
For I have the experience —both the bread and the knife with
which it pleases me to feed folk—which in this art they have
held up as model, without collusion, so that the (true) path be
not cut off. And I say of him who shows me black in deeds not
black, that he with his talk is deemed a stupid chatterer.
For in straightforward fashion, without fill-up phrases, one

should be pleasant in one’s speech,
Quar qui trassail de Mauri en Miro
Entre.| mieg faill—si no.s pren als ladriers!
Com del trebaill quecs motz fa.s messatgiers,
Qu’en devinaill met l’auzir, de maiso.
E qui qu’en frima ni.n fragel,

Pos qu’es mos trobars tan valens
fRveakes rec eae, we 05]
Q’ieu soi raitz, e dic qu’ieu soi premiers
De digz complitz, vensen mos fatz guerriers
Que.m levon critz que ieu no m’en tenh pro.
Donx, com qu’ill sion d’un tropel,

Menton tot gent er per las dens,
Qu’ie.m sen sertas del mieils qu’es e que fo,
Enseguras de mon chant, e sobriers
Ves los bauzas, e sai que dic, qu’estiers
No vengra.l gras don a trop, en sazo.
Quar er m’abelis e m’es bel

Qu’el mieu joi s’enant la jovens;
E s’ieu ren dic que lur an enviro,
Aisi m’en gic, c’uns gaugz mi creis dobliers
D’un dous espic, qu’es joios consiriers,
Don m’an amic hueimais li mal e.ill bo.
D’aisi.m sent ric per bona sospeiso

Qu’en joi m’afic e m’estau volentiers;
Et ab joi pic e gaug mos deziriers,
Et ab joi pic e gaug vueill: Dietis lo.m do!
WN, Belh m’es qu’ieu fass’huey mays un vers,

Pus la flors e.lh fuelha brota,
E.] belh temps nos a del lag ters
Que giet’e plou e degota;
E pus laura renovelha,
Be.s tanh que renovel mos cors,
Si que flurisc’e bruelh defors
So que dedins mi gragelha. over
since he who wavers between Mauri and Miro slips down in
between—unless he hangs on to the sides! As each word acts
as a herald of the labour (behind it), so he turns listening
into a puzzle for the whole household.
And no matter who seethes or grumbles about it, since my style

of poetry is so fine. . .; for | am the root and say that I’m the
first in perfect speech, defeating my stupid assailants who raise
against me the outcry that I’m of no use init.
Therefore, though they are all of one herd, they lie most softly
between their teeth, and J feel assured of the best that is and
that was, confident in my song and supreme over the deceivers;
and I know what I’m saying, for otherwise the grain would
not come of which there’s plenty, in season.
For now it is fine and pleasing to me that in my joy youth is

exalted; and if I say anything which might go against them, I
here abjure it, for a twofold joy accrues to me from one sweet
bud; that is, joyous thought by which, henceforth, both good
and bad have me for a friend.
Hence I feel rich on account of good hope, for in joy I trust

and willingly dwell; with joy I peck at and relish my desires,
and with joy I peck, and enjoyment I wish for: God grant me
it!
pil. It pleases me now to compose a poem, when the flower and the
leaf are in bud, and the fair weather has rid us of the foul which
rains and pours and drizzles; and since the air is thus refreshed,
it’s fitting that my person be refreshed, so that there flower
and burst forth that which within me is stirring.
+.
ag Troxdadour Lyric Peery~

Hai! Pretz, quon iest mutz, sartz e guers,
B, Préeza, co.us vey rota,
E menar de tort en travers!
Quar qui que.s vol sus sabota
Qruna puta gens fradelha,
Que tir’e hat’e pren a mars,
Vos an cofondut e destors,
Quevus afoalh’e.uis descapdelha.
Greu mes qu'estiers Sera trop paucx

Lo pretz d'aquest segh Sora;
Et jeu suy del castiar raucx
E nom val ges una mora,
Quusquecx a facha gonelha,
Carta, resciza de mal vetz,
Et ah fait tant estreit cabetz
Que ja res non lay espelha.
Sals malvatz no fos tan grans guaucx,

Avoleza ja no fora,
Et es tant adubertz lo traucx
Que sobre rocas Kora
Selh cuy jais cors, e martelha.
Qu’ayssils ten enredatz lo retz:
Non hur pot escantir lo setz
Nil crims, tan los rasc‘selha.
Aquist engres, envers estrait,

Fals e flac filh d'avols paires, _
Fela, embronc, sebenc, mal fait,
Sers ressis nat d’avols maires,
Malastros, paubr'escudelha,
Volpillos, blau d’enveja, sec,
Fan que quascus aprent un quec,
Don nays e bruelha.] pustelha.
Peire d'Auvergne 95
Ah! Merit, how you are muted, deaf and squint, and Worthi-
ness, how broken I see you and dragged to and fro! For who-
ever wants to so ill-treats you that a vile and wicked people,
pulling and pushing and snapping, have confused and perverted
you; and this robs you of sense and guidance.
It grieves me, for otherwise scant indeed will be the merit of

these present times; and I am hoarse from admonishing, yet it
avails me not a whit. For each has fashioned a short tunic, cut
from vice, and has made for it such a tight collar that none can
ever take example from it.
If for the wicked there were not such great pleasure, baseness
there would not be; yet the hole gapes so widely that he
ploughs —and hammers—on rocks for whom joy (once) ran
freely. And thus the snare holds them ensnared: neither their
lust nor their crime can be allayed, so much does corruption
harrow them.
This cruel, perverse offspring, false and feeble sons of wicked

fathers, felonous, joyless, bastards, ill-formed, weakling serfs
born of wicked mothers, brutish, empty vessels, cowards, livid
with envy, withered up; they act so that each instructs the
other, whence is born and bursts the running sore.
Ara.m tuelh hueymais de lur plait,
Dels forlinhatz d’avols aires;
Ma qui proeza vol, aguait
Cum pros si’e no.s tric guaires;
Que qui s’esfors’e.s revelha,
Atretan tost, s’anc esser dec,
Sera ben pros hom malvatz lec,
Si no fos d’avol uzelha.
Hueymais si’avols qui.s volra,

O pros, plus als no.n puesc doncas;
Que si pros es, ben i para,
O avols, si ben no.n broncas.
E non sap qu’es calamelha
Qui saiic cuia faire telh,
Ni quant hom en autrui conselh
Si met, qui non !’i apelha.
Peire d’Alvernha mot quera

Qui acoint esquius a concas;
E per aqui hom lo sabra,
Car del fin trobar non roncas;
Ans n’as ben la flor plus belha,
Detorz e l’art e l’aparelh,
E no.i a motz fals que rovelh,
Ni sobredolat d’astelha.
On plus hom mos vers favelha,

Fe que.us deg, on mais valon elh;
E no.y a motz fals que rovelh,
Ni sobredolat d’astelha.
LY. Cui bon vers agrad’a auzir

De me, lo cosselh qu’el escout
Aquest c’ara comens a dir;
Que pus li er sos cors assis
En ben entendre.ls sos e.ls motz,
Ja non dira qu’el anc auzis
Melhors ditz trobatz, luinh ni prop.
Peire d Auvergne a7
Now I betake myself from their plight henceforth, from the
misbegotten ones of shameful birth; but he who seeks worthi-
ness, let him watch how he might be worthy, and let him not be
deceived. For he who strives and arouses himself will just as
quickly, if it were ever to be, become from a wicked lecher a
right worthy man, unless he were wicked by custom.
Henceforth let him be wicked who so wishes, or worthy, I can

now do no more; for if he is worthy it will be well apparent, or
wicked, unless you’re deceived. And he knows not what a
reed-pipe is who thinks to make lime-tree of willow, or when
he sets out to give others advice when he’s not asked for it.
Pierre of Auvergne seeks the word which might make known

the repulsive by the gallon; and hereby will one know it, for
you don’t snore for lack of fine verse. You have of it, rather,
the fairest flower, I deploy both skill and craft, and in it there’s
no false word to grow rusty, nor one planed down too smooth.
The more one recites my verse, by my faith, the more worth-

while they are; and in them there’s no false word to grow
rusty, nor one planed down too smooth.
IV. Anyone for whom fine verse is pleasant to hear from me, I
advise to listen to this one which I’m now about to recite; for
once his heart is set on hearing well the notes and the words,
he’ll never say that he ever heard finer things said in verse, near
or far.
Ges ben no fai az escarnir,
Qui l’au, ans deu agradar mout,
Si tot outracujat albir,
Ab lor nesci feble fat ris,
Tornon so qu’es d’amon de sotz;
E.] be vezem que s’enantis,
E Pesquerns resta de galop.
E per tal fai s’en bon gequir,

Qu’anc esquerns ni coratge.s tout,
Si bruillet no sai vim florir!
E par d’avol respeit jardis
Can vei que la cima ni.l brotz
Non gieta frucha ni tequis,
E Pintrador n’eisson tug clop.
Era.s vol alre devezir:

Qui d’aver sai a gran comout,
Be s’en deuria far servir;
Qu’en un mueg de marabotis
No.us donaria déas notz,
Pos a la boca venra.l fis,
Ni.l prestre secodra l’izop.
A quec deuria sovenir

Que non agues corag’estout
Del be don nos devem jauzir;
Qu’en pauc d’ora es hom conquis,
E can ven als deriers sanglotz,
No li val honcles ni cozis,
Ni metges ab son issarop.
Ben deuria pensar morir

Qui dreitz huils garda sus lo vout:
Cossi Dieus per nos a guerir
Receup mort, e pos mort aucis,
Celui qui per nos venc en crotz.
Tug morrem, c’avers non gueris
Negun, al temps, plus que fetz Jop. over
It’s certainly not to be mocked at if one hears it, rather should

it be most pleasing, even though the opinions of the overween-
ing, with their stupid, feeble, feckless sniggers, drag down that
which is on high; we see that good makes its own way forward,
while mockery stays galloping behind.
Hence it is well to ignore it, for never does mockery or spite

desist—unless we ever saw here the thicket flowering! And
the garden appears of mean promise when I see that neither
the tree-top nor the young shoot produces fruit or seed-pod,
and those who enter it come out of it all lame.
Now must one speak of other things: whoever has wealth,

here, in great abundance, should indeed have it serve him
well; for I’d not give you two nuts for a bushel of Spanish coin
once the mouth is finally shut and the priest sprinkles the holy
water.
Each should remember not to have haughty heart for the goods
which we are to enjoy; for in a short space of time is a man
laid low, and when he comes to his last gasps then neither
uncle nor cousin is of help, nor the doctor with his syrup.
He should indeed think of dying who with steady eyes looks

up at the holy image (and sees) how God, to save us, suffered
death, and then slew death, He Who for us mounted the cross.
We all shall die, and wealth protects none, when the time
comes, any more than it did Job.
Mes son intrat en lonc cossir
Cels qui son al derier escout,
C’a la mort no.s pot escremir
Coms ni reis ni ducs ni marquis;
E, senantz no.s nedeia totz
Que la mortz li serre lo vis,
Be si pot, si.s vol, trigar trop.
Totz jorns vos poiria legir,

Mas pregem cel qu’es caps e fis
Que.ns garde del enfernal potz,
E que.ns met’el sieu paradis,
Lay on mes Ysach e Jacop.
But now they are plunged in sombre thought who are at the
last watch, for against death can neither count nor king, duke
nor marquis, defend himself; and unless he wholly purifies him-
self, before death closes his eyes, then a man might well, ifhe so
wills, delay too long.
I could preach to you for ever, but let us pray to Him Who is
beginning and end, that He preserve us from the infernal pit
and that He set us in His paradise, there where He set Isaac
and Jacob.
: -e, é . a
<a any ne - ie era ae

aoaa ie ae —— aay i
Ss Sees - a
te ee ton Lan
para n= \ar)4erent, & aay hoes.
ereety mers 1395a ted hw
ai nt a
ys
ade
_
‘Raimbaut d’Orange
Lire. Born about the year 1144, Raimbaut, lord of Orange,

of Courthezon, and of a patchwork of lesser feudal holdings
in Provence and Languedoc, was a nobleman of some stand-
ing and the first known troubadour originating from Provence
proper, although professional poets, such as those whom this
brilliant amateur welcomed to his own court, were now
beginning to include this region in their itineraries. Extant
contemporary documents concerning Raimbaut—wills, rec-
ords of acts of homage, etc.—tell us little of his public or
private life. His parents died while he was still a minor, leaving
him under the protection of the lords of Baux and Marseilles,
themselves vassals of the counts of Toulouse and Barcelona
respectively. In this position of dependence and, to judge from
records of his financial transactions, in constant need of ready
cash, he seems to have taken no active part in the political
events of his day, apparently preferring to enjoy the pleasures
and pastimes of court life, in peace and relative luxury. Unlike
his predecessor, William 1x of Aquitaine, Raimbaut had little
chance to prove himself as anything more than a quick-
witted, pleasure-loving and artistically talented young noble-
man; he died suddenly, in 1173, perhaps a victim of the
epidemic which swept across Europe in that year when, as
one chronicler records, ‘many people coughed out their
souls’.
woRKS. Dating from the period c. 1162-1173, no less than
thirty-nine poems by Raimbaut d’Orange—nearly all love-
songs—have been conserved. This fact in itself speaks of the
importance which he must have attributed to poetic composi-
tion and which tends, perhaps, to be obscured by the dominant
quality of his work, best summarized as a playful virtuosity.
Every major aspect of the established art of the canso is, at
some time or another, subjected by him to ingenious modifica-
tion, of which technical inventiveness and a humorous defi-
ance of convention are the two most recurrent features.
More than once, the most basic formal element of the canso is
itself transformed, the lyric stanza breaking down, for ex-
ample, into a mixture of verse and prose or giving way to an
uninterrupted sequence of verse lines on the model of the
mediaeval Latin epistle. Traditional motifs of courtly love are
often taken as the starting points for elaborately formulated
though essentially crude jests; on one occasion the orthodox
purity of the poet’s feelings is explained by the alleged loss of
‘those (two) objects which a man holds most precious’ while,
on another, the answer to the lady’s conventional cruelty is
suggested to be a good punch on the nose. But most frequently
of all, unoriginal thematic material is re-formulated in complex
stanza-forms, intricate rime-schemes, or elaborate series of
related images or word-games, in the construction of which
Raimbaut clearly shares the artistic preoccupations common
to many troubadours of the period. The formal structure of the
love-song now undergoes a process of innovation and experi-
ment from which emerges, possibly under the influence of
mediaeval Latin literary theory, a concept of three levels or
styles of composition, the ‘closed’ or difficult style, the rich,
ornate style, and the clear, light or simple style. Raimbaut is
without doubt one of the leading exponents of this concept,
seeking perfection and pre-eminence, and inspired as much
by a remarkably civilized form of aristocratic pride as by an
artist's awareness that poetic creation can itself constitute a
game, an adventure, a discovery of new modes of experience.
EDITION. W. T. Pattison The Life and Works of the Trouba-
dour Raimbaut d’Orange (Minneapolis 1952).
SELECTION. Typical of much of Raimbaut’s work, where the
elaboration of one selected formal device largely determines
the way in which conventional thematic material is exploited,
is the first of the five selected pieces (Pattison nos. 39, 3, 27,
31, 16). Here, the successful maintenance of an extremely
complex rime-scheme combining rare rime with grammatical
rime, isolated rime with word-rime, must have constituted the
main problem of composition. Also typical is the presence of
such motifs as the lover’s confusion bordering on madness, the
evocation of urgent and undisguisedly sensual desire, and the
notion that the deity plays a special rdle in the poet’s love
Raimbaut d’Orange 105
affairs. They all recur in the second poem in which it is again
apparent that the choice and quality of the rimes lead the poet
to devise a fair number of unusual and far-fetched images,
while the regular use of parenthesis—presumably the razon
deviza of which the poet himself forewarns us—creates a
further measure of complexity. In the next poem, the listener’s
attention is caught and retained by an elaborate network of
literary allusions where Raimbaut, as in other poems, is clearly
jesting with the theme of adulterous love. The fourth poem, a
tenson or stanza-by-stanza dialogue with the troubadour
Giraut de Borneil,—who addresses him, for the occasion, by
the name of a legendary and somewhat promiscuous lover—is
largely devoted to a discussion of the respective merits of two
poetic styles. Without any great insight or depth, and breaking
off inconclusively, this discussion can nevertheless be said at
least to touch on that problem of function and purpose which
will remain fundamental to the poetic traditions of Western
Europe. That Raimbaut’s defence of the ‘closed’ style was in-
spired, however, by no permanent conviction is immediately
apparent in the opening stanza of the last poem where the same
general aristocratic outlook seems to motivate his adoption of
the contrary style, the plain and simple one. As in several of
Raimbaut’s poems, complex rime-patterns, and the involved
modes of expression which they entail, are replaced, as the dis-
tinctive structural feature, by a greater subtlety and variety of
line-rhythm. The love-song takes on the light, skipping move-
ments of the dance, bearing along without effort the direct,
uncomplicated expression of established themes.
Ar resplan la flors enversa
Pels trencans rancx e pels tertres.
Cals flors ?Neus, gels e conglapis
Que cotz e destrenh e trenca;
Don vey morz quils, critz, brays, siscles
En fuelhs, en rams e en giscles.
Mas mi ten vert e jauzen joys
Er quan vey secx los dolens croys.
Quar enaissi m’o enverse

Que bel plan mi semblon tertre,
E tenc per flor lo conglapi,
E.] cautz m’es vis que.! freit trenque,
E.] tro mi son chant e siscle.
E paro.m fulhat li giscle.
Aissi.m suy ferm lassatz en joy
Que re non vey que.m sia croy ...
Mas una gen fad’enversa

Cum s’eron noirit en tertres,
Que.m fan pro pieigz que conglapis,
Q’us quecx ab sa lengua trenca
E.n parla bas et ab siscles.
E no.y val bastos ni giscles
Ni menassas; ans lur es joys
Quan fan so don hom los clam croys.
Qu’ar en baizan no.us enverse

No mo tolon pla ni tertre,
Dona, ni gel ni conglapi,
~
Mas non-poder trop en trenque.

Dona, per cuy chant e siscle,
Vostre belh huelh mi son giscle
Que’m castion si.l cor ab joy
Qu’ieu no.us aus aver talan croy.
Anat ai cum cauz’enversa,

Sercan rancx e vals e tertres,
Marritz cum selh que conglapis
Cocha e mazelh’e trenca; over
Now is resplendent the inverted flower along the cutting
crags and in the hills. What flower ? Snow, ice, and frost which
stings and hurts and cuts, and by which I see perished calls,
cries, birdsongs and whistles among leaves, among branches
and among switches; but joy keeps me green and jovial now,
when I see dried up the wretched base ones.
For in such manner do I invert all this that hills seem to me

fair plains, and I take the frost for blossom, and the warmth, it
seems to me, cuts the cold, and thunderclaps are to me songs
and whistles, and the switches appear to me decked with
leaves. I am thus firmly bound in joy, for I see nothing which
tome is base...
except a stupid people, inverted as though they’d been raised

on the hills, who do me service worse than frost, for each one
cuts with his tongue, and murmurs low and with whistles; and
in this matter neither stick nor switch nor threats are of avail,
rather it is for them joy when they do that for which one calls
them base.
But now from inverting, in kissing, you, neither plains nor

hills prevent me, lady, nor ice nor frost, but from it powerless-
ness cuts me off. Lady, for whom I sing and whistle, your
lovely eyes are for me switches, which so chasten me with joy
that for you I dare not have base desire.
I have gone like a thing inverted, searching crags and vales

and hills, distressed like one whom frost torments and tortures
and cuts,
Que no.m conquis chans ni siscles

Plus que folhs clercx conquer giscles.
Mas ar, Dieu lau, m’alberga joys
Malerat dels fals lauzengiers croys.
Mos vers an, qu’aissi l’enverse

Que no. tenhon bosc ni tertre,
Lai on hom non sen conglapi,
Nia freitz poder que.y trenque.
A midons lo chant e.! siscle
Clar, qu’el cor l’en intro.| giscle,
Selh que sap gen chantar ab joy,
Que no tanh a chantador croy.
Doussa dona, amors e joys

Nos ajosten malgrat dels croys.
Jocglar, granren ai meynhs de joy,

Quar no.us vey, e.n fas semblan croy.
It: Una chansoneta fera

Voluntiers, laner’a dir
Don tem que m’er a murir,
E far lai tal que sen sela.
Ben la poira leu entendre
Si tot s’es en aital rima;
Li mot seran descubert
Alques de razon deviza.
Bo.m sap car tan m’apodera

Mon cor, que non puesc sufrir
De mon talan descubrir;
C’ades puech a plena vela,
Qui que veya joy dissendre,
Per que no.y puesc nulh’escrima
Trobar, ans ai trop suffert,
De far parer ma conquiza. over
so that neither song nor whistle had the better of me any more
than switch has the better of unruly clerics. But now, God be
praised, joy harbours me, despite the false base slanderers.
May my verse go, for I so invert it that neither woods nor

hills might hinder it, to there where one feels no frost, where
the cold has no power to cut. To my mistress may he sing and
whistle it—clearly, that its switches enter her heart—who
can sing nobly, with joy, for it befits no base singer.
Sweet lady, may love and joy join us despite the base ones.
Minstrel, I have much less joy, for I see you not, and thereby
you seem base.
as I would willingly make up a little song, simple to say, but of it

I fear that I’ll die; so I’ll make it such that it conceals its sense.
She indeed will be able to understand it easily, even though it’s
on this kind of rime; the things I say will be revealed some-
what incoherently.
I’m glad because she so overwhelms my heart that I cannot

help revealing my desire; and now I soar on full sail, no matter
who sees joy descending, because I can find no resistance—
rather have I refrained too long—against letting my conquest
appear.
220 Troubadour Lyric Poey
Pus ma dona m’es tan vera,
Trop miels qu'ieu nail sai grazir,
Seu quier als, tostems m’azir!
Dieus en ira.m met’ab ela,
O.m fassa que be.m tanh pendre
Per la gola d‘una Sma!
Pro ma dat; sal Heys no pert,
Dieus m’a pagat & ma guiza.
Ben saup lo mel de ka cera

Triar, el mielks devezir,
Lo jorn quem fes heys ayziz,
Pus, cazen clardatd’estela,
Sa par nas fay ad contendre
Beutatz d'autra, si be-s lima,
Ni aya cor tan asert
De be s aribar en Piza.
Domna, can mi cok al sera,

La nueyt, et tot jor, cossir
Covus pogues en grat servir.
Cant ieu-m pes, quim fer nim pela
Nam pot far en als entendre;
Mas coors de gaug salh e guima
Tan ay en Vos MOR COF sert,
E ma voluatat asiza.
Mos cors, lay on jeu dezir, NX
Res plus tost no.m pot aucir.

Sim tarza, pensatz de tela
Al cor com nas pot defendre!
Quel vida m’es aytan prima,
Soven ai gaug e m'espert
E.m pes: “Mak Fai conquiza’.
Doncx, cay fag tan long"espera

Que aysim degues murir?
Mas un jorn m’es VS que.m tir
Un an; lo pretz d'una meh
Non tenc si nam pot car vendre! over
Since my lady is to me so true, far more than I can thank her
for, if Iseek anything else may she hate me always! May God
set me in discord with her, or have me obliged to hang myself
by the neck from a tree-top! Much has He given me; provided
I don’t lose her, God has rewarded me in the way I want.
Well knew He how to separate honey from wax and single

out the best, the day when He had her created for me, since by
falling starlight no other woman’s beauty can rival hers, no
matter how polished it be, and no matter how firm her heart be
set on arriving safely at Pisa.
Lady, when I lie down in the evening, all night, and all day, I
consider how I might serve you to your pleasure. When I thus
ponder, then if someone beats me or pulls out my hair he could
not make me turn my thoughts elsewhere. My body leaps and
bounds for joy, so much is my heart set on you, and my will
fixed.
Lady, if my person were not to make you happy there where

I desire, nothing can slay me more swiftly. If there’s delay,
think how a man cannot save himself from cobwebs in the
heart! For my life is so finely balanced that often I’ve joy, and
then I despair and think to myself “To my loss have I won her’.
Why then have I hoped so long, if now I should have to die?

But one day seems to me to drag on for a year, and I’m not
worth an almond if I cannot sell myself dearly!
Dreitz! per que mos cors m’ensima
C’ades m’estai l’uelh ubert
Vas sela part on l’ay viza.
Deu prec tan de mort m’escrima,

Donna, e m’aia suffert
Tro qu’ie.us embraz ses chamiza.
Qui trob’amor ses escrima,

Ja non deu planher si pert
Domna qu’es vayra ni griza.
Ene Non chant per auzel ni per flor

Ni per neu ni per gelada,
Ni neis per freich ni per calor,
Ni per reverdir de prada;
Ni per nuill autr’esbaudimen
Non chan, ni non fui chantaire,
Mas per midonz en cui m’enten,
Car es del mon la bellaire.
Ar sui partitz de la pejor

C’anc fos vista ni trobada,
Et am del mon la bellazor
Dompna, e la plus prezada.
E farai ho al mieu viven,
Que d’alres non sui amaire;
Car ieu crei quill a bon talen
Ves mi, segon mon vejaire.
Ben aurai, dompna, grand honor

Si ja de vos m’es jutgada
Honranssa que sotz cobertor
Vos tenga nud’embrassada;
Car vos valetz las meillors cen,
Quwieu non sui sobregabaire.
Sol del pretz ai mon cor gauzen
Plus que s’era emperaire! over
Right! and for this is my heart exalted, that already I stand
gazing towards that place where I once saw her.
To God I pray to defend me so from death and, lady, to have

suffered me to live, until I hold you, shirtless, in my arms.
Who finds love without resistance should never complain if he

loses a lady who is of changing colour or grey.
. I sing not for bird or flower, not for snow or for ice and not
even for cold or for warmth, nor for the meadow’s growing
green again; and for no other pleasure do I sing, nor have I
ever sung, but for my mistress for whom I long, because she is
the most lovely in the world.
Now am I parted from the worst that ever was seen or found,
and love the fairest lady in the world, and the most esteemed.
And this I’ll do all my life long for I’m in love with no other,
and I believe that she is well-disposed towards me, so it seems
to me.
I shall indeed, lady, have great honour if ever the privilege is

adjudged me by you of holding you under the cover, naked in
my arms, for you are worth the hundred best together, and in
this praise I’m not exaggerating; in that merit alone does my
heart rejoice more than if I were emperor.
De midonz fatz dompn’e seignor,
Cals que sia.il destinada,
Car ieu begui de la amor,
Que ja.us dei amar, celada.
Tristan, gan la.il det Yseus gen,
La bela, no.n saup als faire,
Et ieu am per aital coven
Midonz, don no.m pose estraire.
Sobre totz aurai gran valor

S’aitals camisa m’es dada
Cum Yseus det a l’amador,
Que mais non era portada.
Tristan, mout presetz gent presen:
D/aital sui eu enquistaire.
Si.l me dona cill cui m’enten,
No.us port enveja, bels fraire!
Vejatz, dompna, cum Dieus acor

Dompna que d’amar s’agrada:
Q’Iseutz estet en gran pdor,
Puois fon breumens conseillada
Qu’il fetz a son marit crezen
C’anc hom que nasques de maire
Non toques en lieis: mantenen
Atrestal podetz vos faire!
Carestia, esgauzimen
M’aporta d’aicel repaire ~S
On es midonz ge.m ten gauzen

Plus q’ieu eis non sai retraire.
IV: Ara.m platz, Giraut de Borneill,

Que sapcha per c’anatz blasman
Trobar clus, ni per cal semblan.
Aiso.m digaz
Si tan prezatz
So que es a toz comunal;
Car adonc tut seran egual. over
Raimbaut d’Orange 275:
My mistress I make my lord and lady, whatever may be the
outcome, because I drank of that secret love, so that I must
ever love you. Tristan, when noble Iseult, the fair, granted it
him, could not do otherwise, and I love by just a such bond my
mistress, from it I cannot escape.
Above all men will I have great worth if such a nightdress is

given me as Iseult gave to her lover, for it was never worn
again. Tristan, you prized much the noble gift: for such a one
am I seeking. If she for whom I long gives it me, I bear you no
envy, fair brother!
See, lady, how God helps the lady who takes pleasure in lov-
ing: for Iseult stood in great fear, then in a moment she was
advised and so made her husband believe that no man born
of mother had ever laid hands on her. Now you can do the
very same thing!
Carestia, bring me some enjoyment from that dwelling where

my mistress is who keeps me more joyful than I myself can
tell.
Now I’d like, Giraut de Borneil, to know why you go blaming

the ‘closed’ style, and on what grounds. Tell me this, if you
prize so much that which is common to all; because all then
will be equal.
Seign’En Lignaura, no.m coreill
Si gecs si trob’a son talan.
Mas eu son jujaire d’aitan
Qu’es mais amatz
E plus prezatz
Qui.| fa levet e venarsal;
E vos no m’o tornetz a mal.
Giraut, non voill qu’en tal trepeil

Torn mos trobars. Que ja ogan
Lo lauzo.| bon, e.] pauc e.] gran:
Ja per los fatz
Non er lauzatz,
Car non conoisson, ni lor cal,
So que plus car es ni mais val.
Lingnaura, si per aiso veil

Ni mon sojorn torn en affan,
Sembla que.m dopte del mazan.
A que trobatz
Si non vos platz
C’ades o sapchon tal e cal?
Que chanz non port’altre cabtal.
Giraut, sol que.] miels appareil

E.] dig’ades e.] trag’enan,
Mi non cal sitot non s’espan,
C’anc granz viutaz
Non fon denhtatz;
Per so prez’om mais aur que sal,
E de tot chant es atretal.
Lingnaura, fort de bon conseill

Es fis amans contrarian!
E pero si.m val mais d’affan
Mos sos levatz,
C’us enraumatz
Lo.m deissazec e.] diga mal!
Que no. deing ad home sesal. over
My lord Sir Lignaura, I don’t complain if each writes to his
liking. But this far I judge, that he is liked more and more
esteemed who does so plainly and simply; and don’t you take
me wrong in this.
Giraut, I don’t want my writing to turn into such a jumble.

Let henceforth the good ever praise it, both humble and
mighty; never by fools will it be praised, for they’re not aware
of, nor are they concerned by what is most precious and is
worth most.
Lignaura, if on that score I lie awake and turn my pleasure into

effort, it seems that I fear general acclaim. Wherefore do you
write, if you’re not pleased that straightway each and every
one should know it ? For song brings no other success.
Giraut, only provided that I prepare what’s best, express it

there and then, and bring it forth, I’m not concerned if it’s not
spread far and wide, for a thing of great cheapness was never
a dainty morsel; that’s why one prizes gold more than salt, and
with any song it’s just the same.
Lignaura, of right good advice is the argumentative noble

lover! And yet if my piping tune costs me any more effort,
then let some croaker garble and sing it badly! for I deem it
not fit for a man of property.
Giraut, per cel ni per soleil,
Ni per la clardat que resplan,
Non sai de que.ns anam parlan,
Ni don fui natz,
Si soi torbatz.
Tan pes d’un fin joi natural:
Can d’als cossir, no m’es coral.
Lingnaura, si.m gira.l vermeil

De lescut cella cui reblan,
Qu’eu voill dir: ‘A Deu mi coman!’
C’als fols pensatz
Outracuidatz
M’a mes doptanza deslial.
No.m soven com me fes comtal?
Giraut, greu m’es, per San Marsal,

Car vos n’anatz de sai Nadal.
Lingnaura, que ves cort rial

M’en vauc ades, ric’ e cabal.
Pos trobars plans

Es volguz tan,
Fort m’er greu si non son sobrans;
Car ben pareis
Qi tals motz fai a
C’anc mais non foron dig cantan,
Qe cels c’om tot jorn ditz e brai
Sapcha, si.s vol, autra vez dir.
Mos ditz es sans,

Don gap, ses dan.
Per tal joi soi coindes e vans
Qe mais val neis
Desirs q’ieu n’ai
D’una ge anc no.m ac semblan,
Pels sainz c’om ger en Verzelai,
D’autre joi c’om puesca jauzir. over
Giraut, by the sky and the sun, and by the light that shines, I
know not what we’re talking about, nor of whom I was born,
I am so troubled. I think so much on a fine and natural joy:
when I consider aught else, it comes not from the heart.
Lignaura, she whom I woo so turns towards me the scarlet

side of the shield that I want to say: “God save me!’. For in
foolish overweening thoughts disloyal doubt has plunged me.
Do I not remember how she ennobled me ?
Giraut, it grieves me, by Saint Martial, for you’re going away.

this side of Christmas.
Lignaura, but to a royal court I go now, great and mighty.
Since the plain style is in such demand, it will be very hard for
me if I don’t excel in it; for it seems right that he who com-
poses such words as were never before spoken in song should
be able, if he so wishes, to say at another time those which are
said and sung every day.
My speech is sound, of that I boast, and flawless. On account

of such joy am I gay and lightheaded that even the desire which
I have of it from one who never showed me favour is worth
more, by the saints one seeks at Vézelay, than any other joy in
which one could rejoice.
Son ben aurans,

Car per talan
Solamen, so francs et humans,
De dir ves leis
Ben, ni.m fas gal.
Qe.m val si per lieis trag mal gran ?
Silo mal q’en trac no sap lai,
Mi eis voil d’aitan escarnir.
Ben so trafans
Q’eu eis m’engan.
Car dic aiso tan que vilans.
Cals pros me creis
Si eu mal trai
Per leis, s'il no sapia l’afan ?
No m’es doncs pro, e be no.m vai,
Si.m pens ge tan ric joi desir?
Mos volers cans

Qe.m sal denan
Me fai creire ge futz es pans,
Tan aut m’espeis
Mon cor, car sai
Q’enfol; m’aurei donc faz l’efan ?
Tot voll cant vei. Respeit segrai.
Respeitz loncs fai omen perir.
Sains Julians!
Con vauc torban!
Soi serrazis 0 crestians ?
Qals es ma leis ?
Non sai. Qe jai
Me posca, de so qe.il deman,
Et atrestan tost, Dieus, si.l plai,
Co fes vin d’aig’esdevenir !
Pauc soi certans,

Ves ge.us reblan!
Domna, de vos so molt londans. over
I’m indeed mad, for through desire alone to speak well about
her I am noble and kind, and become gay. What does it avail
me if I suffer for her great pain ?Inasmuch as she knows not,
there, the pain which I suffer, I’m making a fool of myself.
Indeed I’m treacherous, for I betray myself in saying that just

like a churl. What good comes to me if I suffer pain for her
and she knew not the anguish? Isn’t it then good, and doesn’t
it go well for me, just to think that I desire such splendid joy?
My burning desire which leaps on ahead of me makes me

believe that wood is bread. I’m so deeply befuddled, for I
know that I’m going mad; will I then have acted like a child?
I want all that I see. I'll keep to my expectation. Long ex-
pectation causes a man to perish.
Saint Julian! How troubled I go! Am I Saracen or Christian?

What is my faith? I know not. May God, if it please Him,
make joy come to me from that which I ask of her, and as
quickly as He made wine come from water!
I’m not at all sure of myself; see how I woo you! Lady, I’m
very far from you.
Anc no.m destreis

Amors tan mai,
Per q’ieu non creiria d’un an
C’aissi.us ames, per negun plai,
Si bes no m’en degues venir.
Astrius e ma chanso vos man

Qe dos sautz si rics ar essai;
Lo ters aut on plus pot om dir.
Never before did love distress me so much for I’d not believe
in a year that thus I would love you, not on any condition,
unless good should come to me from it.
I send you Astrius and my song, so I now try two fine leaps;
the third (is) as high as one can possibly say.
Giraut de Borneil
Lire. Like Bernard de Ventadour, his senior by some twenty

years or so, Giraut de Borneil was a professional troubadour,
of humble birth, and a native of the Limousin region. Occa-
sional allusions in his work indicate that in the course of his
career—which extended from c. 1165 to c. 1200—he visited
all the great courts of southern France and northern Spain
where the troubadour lyric found favour. While there is no
evidence that he spent any length of time at any of these, it
does seem most likely that he enjoyed throughout his career
the patronage of Adémar v, viscount of Limoges (1138-1199),
his immediate overlord and close contemporary. It is normal
that he should have begun his career at the local court, it is
likely that when, as again indicated in certain of his own
compositions, he took part in the Crusade of 1189, it was in
the company of the viscount, and his latest dateable poem is a
lament on Adémar’s death in which Giraut clearly suggests
that he had long enjoyed his favour and protection. How long
the poet survived him is not known; if, as all the indications
suggest, he was born in the mid-1140s, he is not likely to have
seen much of the thirteenth century.
WORKS. Giraut’s mediaeval biographer affirms that the poet
was known in his lifetime and, among the connoisseurs, for
long after his death, as the ‘maestre dels trobadors’ and few
modern critics would question his claim to this title. Only one
or two troubadours ever produced more than the seventy-six
poems now attributed to him, and none equalled his rich variety
of structure and style. Both in his forty love-songs and in his
thirty or so sirventés, Giraut was faced with the constant task of
renewing the formulation of thematic material which, since the
great poets of the mid-twelfth century, had become fixed by
cultural tradition and literary convention. As already apparent
in the work of such poets as Peire d’Auvergne and Raimbaut
d’Orange, the problems of style and expression had now
become dominant. Giraut owes his reputation to the profes-
sional mastery with which he solved them. Though he states
more than once his approval of the complexities of the srobar
clus, he yet avoided the extreme manifestations of purely
formal virtuosity affected by certain of his contemporaries.
His own abilities are more consistently and impressively
revealed both in the stylistic richness and structural coherence
of the wobar ric and in the ease and lightness of rhythm and
expression characteristic of the wobar Jew. Giraut not only took
a leading part in the elaboration of these styles; he developed
them to their highest point of perfection.
EDITION. A. Kolsen Sdmiliche Lieder des Trobadors Giraut de
Borneil, (2 Vols. Halle 1910-35 ).
SELECTION. The first poem (Kolsen no. 4) is devoted to
what might be called the problem of communication. The
ideal of clarity and simplicity—of total communication—
proposed in the opening stanzas characterizes the general
position adopted by Giraut in the contemporary discussion of
poetic ends and means; the conventional dilemma described
in the following stanzas is, however, saved from banality only
by its association with this more immediate, professional
concern. Purely conventional too is the thematic material of
the second poem (Kolsen no. 6); it might indeed be con-
sidered as a résumé of the principal themes and motifs of the
courtly love-song, but Giraut has made of it a particularly
impressive work, at once highly abstract and deeply intense,
intangible yet obsessive—in short, a successful realization of
the very essence of the ideal of courtly love. The next three
poems (Kolsen nos. 12, 15, 2) are, like the first two, love-
songs, and all show how, by the sustained elaboration of one
selected device, the poet varies the form and structure of the
canso in order to revitalize the stock themes with colour, drama,
and movement. The sixth poem (Kolsen no. 65) is a moral
sirventés, and the contrast between the good old days and
present troubled times is sketched out with the exaggeration
essential to the genre. It is interesting to note, however, that
its distinctive qualities led Dante, in his De Vulgari Eloquentia,
to propose Giraut as the model poet of moral rectitude. The
Dalfis of the envoy is surely Dauphin d’Auvergne, count of
Clermont and Montferrand, an eminent patron of the trouba-
Giraut de Borneil 127
dours in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries; but

whether the episode evoked in the last stanza had any ground-
ing in reality is an unsolved and doubtless unsolvable question.
The seventh poem, finally (Kolsen no. 54), adapted by Giraut
from what is thought to be the folk-song form of the a/ba or
dawn-song, is generally considered one of the most perfect
compositions in the whole corpus of troubadour poetry. The
technical skill and the poetic sensitivity with which the
conventions of two quite separate literary traditions have
been combined are immediately perceptible, rendering all
comment superfluous. It is indeed a masterpiece by this the
‘maestre dels trobadors’.
A penas sai comensar
Un vers que volh far leuger,
E si n’ai pensat des er
Que. fezes de tal razo
Que l’entenda tota gens
E qu’el fass’a leu chantar;
Qu’eu.! fatz per pla deportar.
Be.l saupra plus cobert far,

Mas non a chans pretz enter
Can tuch no.n son parsoner.
Qui que.s n’azir, me sap bo
Can auch dire per contens
Mo sonet, rauquet e clar,
E Pauch a la fon portar.
Ja, pos volrai clus trobar,

No cut aver man parer—
Ab so que ben ai mester
A far una leu chanso;
Qu’eu cut c’atretan grans sens
Es, qui sap razo gardar,
Co mes motz entrebeschar.
D’als m’aven a consirar,

Qu’eu am tal que non enquer,
Per so car del consirer
Sai be que fatz mesprezo.
Que farai? C’us ardimens
Me ve qu’eu I’an razonar,
E paors fai m’o laissar.
Be lo.i volria mandar,

Si trobava messatger;
Mas si.n fatz altrui parler
Eu tem quilh me n’ochaizo,
Car non es ensenhamens
C’om ja fass’altrui parlar
D’aisso que sols vol celar. over
I hardly know how to begin a poem which I want to make

light and easy, though I’ve been thinking aboutit since yester-
day, how I might compose it on such lines that all people may
understand it and that it may be easy to sing; for I’m composing
it purely for pleasure.
I could easily make it more obscure, but a song’s merit is not

complete when all are not partners in it. No matter who’s
irked by it, I’m glad when I hear my little song sung in conten-
tion, rough or clear, and I hear it borne to the public fountain.
Never, should I wish to write in the ‘closed’ style, do I think

I'd have much company—apart from the fact that I’ve need
enough to compose an easy song; for I think that it’s just as
much good sense, if one can keep to the point, as to twist my
words round each other.
It behoves me to think on something else, for I love such a one

to whom I make no entreaty, because in the thinking itself I
know that I’m at fault. What shall I do ? for a bold urge comes
to me that I should go and plead with her, then fear makes me
renounce it.
I would indeed like to convey this to her, if I found a messen-

ger; but if I make someone else my spokesman I fear that
she’ll blame me for it, since it’s not wise for a man ever to have
someone else speak of that which he, on his own, would
conceal.
Tan be.m sap lo cor comtar
La beltat e.] pretz sobrer,
Que gran batalha.n sofer
Car no.i vauc ad espero.
Pois m’en ven us espavens
Que m’en fai dezacordar
E mon ardimen baissar.
Ges no la posc oblidar,

Tan me fai gran dezirer;
E volh peitz c’a mo guerrer
Celui que d’als me somo;
Car lai es mos pensamens,
E melhs no.m pot solassar,
Sol que.m lais de leis pensar.
Consirers m’en es guirens

C’anc re tan no.m poc amar,
Pos la vi, ni tener char.
Il. Amars, onrars, e char-teners

Umiliars et obezirs,
Loncs merceiars e loncs grazirs,
Long’atendens’e loncs espers
Me degron far viur’ad onor,
S’eu fos astrucs de bo senhor.
Mas car no.m vir ni no.m biais,
No vol Amors qu’eu sia gais.
Pero mos sens e mos sabers,

E mos parlars e mos be-dirs,
Mos esperars e mos sofrirs,
E mos celars e mos temers
M’agron totztems onrat d’amor,
S’eu perchasses mo ben alhor.
Mas cilh que.m ten en greu pantais
No vol qu’eu l’am, ni que m’en lais. over
Giraut de Borneil ep
So well can my heart recount to me her beauty and her sove-

reign merit, that I endure great strife in not spurring on
towards her. Then from that a terror befalls me which makes
me change my mind and abate my boldness.
In no way can I forget her, she inspires me with such great

desire, and I wish more ill than on my sworn enemy on him
who tempts me with anything else; for in that direction is all
my thought, and he cannot better entertain me than in simply
letting me think of her.
Of that, thought itself is my assurance, for I could never love

anything so much, since I saw her, or hold so dear.
Loving, honouring and cherishing, acting humbly and

obeying, long crying mercy and long seeking to please, long
expectation and long hope ought to cause me to live in
honour, if I had been blessed with a good liege lord. But, since
I veer not nor waver, Love wants not that I should be gay.
Yet my sense and my knowledge, my speech and my elo-

quence, my hoping and my enduring, and my concealing and
my fearing would at all times have honoured me with love,
had I saught my good elsewhere. But she who keeps me in
grievous torment wants not that I love her, nor that I quit her.
E si.lh plagues mos enquerers,
Ni mos preiars ni mos servirs,
Ja.l trop velhars ni.l paucs dormirs,
Ni.lh mal qu’eu trac matis e sers
No.m pogron ja partir de lor.
Ans m/’agra Jois per servidor
E ja no.m fora greus lo fais
Nil mals c’al cor me brolh’e.m nais.
Per qu’eu conosc e sai qu’es vers

Que viure.m val menhs que morirs?
Pos que.lh sofranh jois e jauzirs,
E.m falh Amors e sos poders.
Per qu’eu sospir e planh e plor?
Car Jois no.m val ni no.m socor;
Qu’eu sui aquel c’am melhs e mais
E no manei, ni tenh, ni bais.
Era.m combat sobre-volers,

E sobr’amars e loncs dezirs;
E fa.m chassar sobr’enardirs
E foleiars e no-devers
So que no tanh a ma valor.
E s’eu volh trop per ma folor,
Mos sens en par alques savais,
Mas eu remanh fis e verais.
Car ma semblans’e mos parers,

E mos cudars e mos albirs ee
M’an dich totztems c’altr’enriquirs,
Ni altr’onors ni altr’avers,
No.m podon dar tan de ricor
Com cilh que.m fai viur’ab langor;
C’on plus languisc e dezengrais,
Cut et aten c’a me s’abais.
Domna valens, vostra valor

E vostre pretz e vostr’onor
Poiatz totztems e valetz mais,
Per qu’eu vos sui fis e verais.
And if my wooing pleased her, and my praying and my

serving, then neither the wakefulness nor the sleeplessness,
nor the pains which I bear morn and evening could ever make
me renounce them. Joy, rather, would have me its servant and
the burden would never be grievous, nor the pain which in my
heart buds and is born.
How do I realize and know it to be true that living is worth

less to me than dying? Because it lacks joy and enjoyment,
and Love fails me, and its power. Why do I sigh and lament
and weep? Because Joy avails me not, nor helps me; for I am
he who loves best and the most, yet I caress not, nor hold in
my arms, nor kiss.
Now over-wanting assails me, and over-loving and long

desire; and overboldness and folly and unseemliness make me
pursue that which befits not my worth. And if I want too much,
in my folly, my sense appears somewhat paltry, but I remain
noble and true.
Since what seems and what appears to me, what I believe and
what I judge have always told me that other enrichment, other
honour or other possession cannot give me as much wealth as
she who makes me live in languor, then the more I languish
and pine away, (the more) I believe and expect that she will
condescend to me.
Worthy lady, your worth and your merit and your honour you
always enhance and increase in worth, wherefore I am to you
noble and true.
(i Can lo glatz e.] frechs e la neus
S’en vai, e torna la chalors,
E reverdiz lo pascors,
Et auch las voltas dels auzeus,
M’es aitan beus
Lo dolz tems a l’issen de martz
Que plus sui salhens que leupartz,
E vils non es chabrols ni cers.
Si la bela cui sui profers
Me vol onrar
D’aitan que.m denhe sofertar
Qu’eu sia sos fis entendens,
Sobre totz sui rics e manens.
Tan es sos Cors gais et isneus

E complitz de belas colors,
C’anc de rozeus no nasquet flors
Plus frescha, ni d’altres brondeus;
Ni anc Bordeus
Non ac senhor fos plus galhartz
De me, si n.era coltz ni partz
Tan que fos sos dominis sers.
E fos apelatz de Bezers
Can ja parlar
M’auziri’om de nulh celar
Qu’ela.m disses, celadamens,
Don s’aires lo seus cors gens.
Bona domna, lo vostr’aneus

Que.m donetz me fai gran socors,
Qu’en lui refranhi mas dolors,
E, can lo remir, sui plus leus
Cus estorneus;
E sui per vos aissi auzartz
Que no tem que lansa ni dartz
Me tenha dan, n’acers ni fers.
E daltra part sui plus despers,
Per sobr’amar,
Que naus can vai torban per mar,
Destrecha d’ondas e de vens,
Tan me destreing lo pensamens. over
Giraut de Borneil RAS
. When the ice and the cold and the snow go away, and the
warmth returns and once more it is green Eastertide, and I
hear the warblings of the birds, then the sweet time at the end
of March so pleases me that I’m more lively than leopard, and
neither roebuck nor stag is so nimble. If the fair one to whom I
am devoted is willing to honour me so far as to deign to suffer
me to be her noble suitor, then above all men am I rich and
wealthy.
She is in her person so gay and lively and perfect with lovely
hues, that never from rose-bush was flower born more fair,
nor from any others; and never had Bordeaux a merrier lord
than me, if I were allowed by her and permitted so much as to
be her own liege man. And I would be called (a fool) from
Béziers if ever one heard me talk of a secret which she had told
me, secretly; by this would her noble self be vexed.
Good lady, that ring of yours which you gave me is of great

comfort to me, for by it I soothe my sorrows and, when I gaze
on it, I’m sprightlier than a starling; and I am for you so bold
that I fear not that lance or spear might harm me, nor steel nor
iron. Yet, on the other hand, I founder more through over-
loving than a ship when it goes tossing on the sea, assailed by
waves and winds, so much does deep thought assail me.
Domna, aissi cum us chasteus
Qu’es assetjatz per fortz senhors,
Can la peirer’abat las tors,
E.ls chalabres e.ls manganeus,
Et es tan greus
La guerra devas totas partz
Que no lor te pro genhs ni artz,
E.1 dols e.l critz es aitan fers
De cels dedins quez an grans gers,
Sembla.us ni.us par
Que lor ai’obs merce clamar?
Aissi.us clam merce umilmens,
Bona domna, pros e valens.
Domna, aissi com us anheus

Non a forsa contr’ad un ors,
Sui eu, si la vostra valors
No.m val, plus frevols c’us rauzeus,
Et er plus breus
Ma vida, que de cartel chartz
S’oimais me pren negus destartz
Que no.m fassatz drech de l’envers.
Et tu, fin’Amors, que.m sofers,
Que deus garar
Los fis amans de foleiar,
Sias me chabdeus e guirens
A ma domna, pos aissi.m vens!
Joglars, ab aquestz sos noveus

T’en vai, e.ls portaras de cors
A la bela cui nais ricors;
E digas li qu’eu sui plus seus
Que sos manteus!
Giraut de Borneil RAG
Lady, as when a castle is besieged by grim barons, when the

siege-engine topples the towers—and the catapult and the
mangonel—and the onslaught is so fierce from every side that
neither cunning nor guile avails them, and the suffering and
the cries are so terrible of those within who are in great
anguish, does it not seem and appear to you that there’s need
for them to cry mercy? In the same way I humbly cry mercy
of you, good lady, noble and worthy.
Lady, as a lamb has no power against a bear, so am I, if your

worthiness avails me not, more feeble than a reed; and my life
will be shorter for it shrinks by a fourth whenever harm befalls
me through your not righting for me what’s wrong. And you,
noble love, who sustain me, who should protect noble lovers
from folly, be you my guide and protector with my lady, since
she so overwhelms me.
Minstrel, with these new tunes be off, and you'll bear them
swiftly to the fair one in whom greatness is born; and tell her
that I am more hers than her own mantle!
IV. Amors,
E si.m clam de vos,
Sera.us onors ?
No, per ma fe,
Car no.s conve,
Desqu’en vostra mantenensa
M’aviatz,
Qu’era.m gecatz;
Ans pensatz
Com cela.m volha
Cui eu volh!
S’acors
No.m fai, ve.us me jos!
C’una dolors,
Que.m sobreve,
Me vira.l fre
Vas leis, si noca l’agensa
C’om que.lh platz
Sia chazatz.
N’ai? Si.m fatz:
Can que m’acolha,
Pro m’acolh.
Folors
Fo ma sospeissos,
C’a trop melhors
No sofre re
Cudar de se;
Be fatz doncs fol’atendensa?
Trop viatz
Me sui chamjatz!
No.n diatz
Qu’ela.s me tolha,
Qu’eu la.m tolh.
Pluzors
Vetz sui consiros
E.m pren pdors
Qu’en pert l’ale, over
Love, suppose then I complain of you, will it be to your

honour? No, by my faith, because it is not fitting, once you
held me in your sway, that you should now reject me; think,
rather, on how she might want me whom I want.
If she makes no peace with me, lo! I am lost; for a pain which
comes over me turns my steps towards her, though it agrees
with her not that a man who pleases her should receive reward.
Do I have any? Indeed I do: to whatever extent she accepts
me, she accepts me well enough.
A foolish thing was my presumption, for she forbids far better

men to expect anything of her; do I indeed then nourish vain
hope? I’ve changed my mind too quickly! Say not that she
betakes herself from me; I take her from myself.
Many times am I plunged in thought and fear grips me that I'll

stop breathing,
Can me sove
C’a me falh; e me comensa
Frevoltatz,
Que.m tolh solatz.
Grans pechatz
Er qu’eu me dolha,
S’en me dolh.
E sors
Anc res que jois fos
Leu, ni de cors?
Egal ab me,
Qu’era.m n’ave,
En esmai etz en parvensa,
C’oblidatz
M’er sOans fatz!
N’er intratz,
Ans que.] rams folha
Port, e.s folh?
Era, can sui en Préensa,

Vau mesclatz
Entrir’ e patz;
E sapchatz
Del joi qu’i brolha
Quez eu brolh.
~~
Ailas, com mor!—Quez as, amis ?—

Eu sui trais !—
Per cal razo ?—
Car anc jorn mis m’ententio
En leis que.m fetz lo bel parven.—
Et as per so to cor dolen ?—
Si ai.—
As enaissi to cor en lai P—
Oc eu, plus fort.—
Est donc aissi pres de la mort ?—
Oc eu, plus fort que no.us sai dir.—
Per que.t laissas aissi morir ?— over
when I recall how she fails me; and there is born in me a
weakness which robs me of comfort. A great sin will it be that
I should grieve, if for her I grieve.
Yet did there ever arise a thing of joy, easily and promptly?
Like me then, for now it so befalls me, you are, it appears, in
dismay, so that silly scorn for me will be forgotten. Will that
be started before the branch bears leaf and is leafy ?
Now, when I’m in Provence, I go torn between grief and

peace; yet know that, with the joy which here bursts into
flower, I burst into flower.
Alas, how I die !—What’s wrong, my friend >—I am betrayed!

—For what reason ?— Because I once set my mind on her who
showed me a sign of favour.—And it’s for this that your heart
is grieving ?—Indeed yes.— And your heart is so set on her >—
It is, to the utmost.—And are you thus at death’s door ?>—I
am, more than I can tell you.—Why do you thus submit to
death ?
Car sui trop vergonhos e fis.—
No las re quis? -
Eu, per Deu, no:—
E per que menas tal tenso
Tro aias saubut so talen ?>—
Senher, fai me tal espaven.—
Que.| fai ?—
S’amors que.m ten en greu esmai.—
Be n’as gran tort;
Cudas te qu’ela t’o aport ?>—
Eu no, mas no.m n’aus enardir.—
Trop poiras tu to dan sofrir.
Senher, e cals conselhs n’er pres ?>—

Bos e cortes.—
Er lo.m diatz!—
Tu venras denan leis viatz
Et enquerras la de s’amor.—
E si s’o ten a dezonor ?—
No.t chal !—
E s’ela.m respon lach ni mal ?—
Sias sofrens,
Que totztems bos sofrire vens.—
E si.s n’apercep lo gilos >—
Adonc n’obraretz plus ginhos.—
Nos ?—Oc be.—Sol qu’ilh 0 volgues!—

Er.— Que ?—Si.m cres.—
Crezutz siatz !— .
Be te sera tos jois doblatz,
Sol lo dichs no.t fassa paor.—
Senher, tan senti la dolor
Mortal,
Per qu’es ops c’o partam egal.—
Er donc tos sens
Que te valh’e tos ardimens. —
Oc, e ma bona sospeissos.—
Garda te que gen t'i razos!— over
Because I am too shy and noble-minded.—You have asked
nothing of her ?>—No, in God’s name, not I!—Then why do
you carry on this self-torture before you’ve known what she
feels >— My lord, it inspires in me such terror.— What does >—
Her love, for which I’m in great dismay.— You’re very wrong
in this; do you suppose that she’d bring it to you ?—No, but I
daren’t bid boldly for it.— You could suffer your greatest harm.
My lord, what decision is then to be taken?—A good and

courtly one.—Now tell it me!—You shall hasten to her
presence and ask her for her love.—And if she takes it as a
dishonour ?>— Don’t worry !—And if she makes me a cruel and
angry answer ?—Be patient, for loyal patience always wins
through.—And if the jealous one gets to know about it >—
Then you'll both proceed more surreptitiously.—
Both ?—Yes of course.—If only she wanted it so!—It will

be—How ?—If you trust me.—Then have my trust!— Your
joy will indeed be doubled, provided you be not afraid to speak
up.—My lord, I feel the pain so mortal that we must needs
share it equally.—Now may your sense serve you, and your
ardour !—Yes, and my good hope.—Take care that you plead
your case finely !—
Razonar no.m sabrai ja be.—
Dias, per que ?—
Per leis gardar.—
No.n sabras donc ab leis parlar?
Est aissi del tot esperdutz ?—
Oc, can li sui denan vengutz. . .—
T’espertz ?—
Oc eu, que no sui de re certz.—
Aital fan tuch
Cilh que son per amor perduch.—
Oc, mas eu forsarai mo cor!—
Era non o torns en demor!—
Be m’a aduch
Amors a so, que sabon tuch
Que mal viu qui deziran mor,
Per qu’eu no sai planher mo cor.—
Vas to desduch
Vai, amics, ans c’o sapchon tuch,
Per que no perdas to resor;
Que levet pert om so demor.
Vie Per solatz revelhar

Que s’es trop endormitz,
E per pretz, qu’es faiditz,
Acolhir e tornar,
Me cudei trebalhar.
Mas er m’en sui gequitz;
Per so m’en sui falhitz
Car non es d’achabar,
C’on plus m’en ve volontatz e talans,
Plus creis, de lai, lo destorbers e.1 dans.
Greu es de sofertar;
A vos 0 dic c’auzitz
Com era jois grazitz
E tuch li benestar. over
Pll never be able to plead well.—Say now, why ?—Out of
respect for her.—So you'll not then be able to talk with her?
Are you thus so completely at a loss >—Yes, when I’m come
before her. . .—You’re at a loss >—I am indeed, so that I’m
sure of nothing.—All those do so who are through love
forlorn.—Yes, but I’ll force my heart !—Now don’t put it off
any longer !—
Love indeed has brought me to this, for all know that he lives
ill who dies of desire, wherefore I cannot grieve for my
heart.—
Towards your pleasure go, my friend, before all know of it, so

that you lose not your resolve; for it’s easy to lose what one
delays.
ge To arouse noble pleasure which has fallen sound asleep, and

to welcome and bring back merit which is banished, I thought
to set to work. But now I’ve abandoned it; for this have I quit,
that it cannot be made to succeed, and the more I have the will
and desire for it, the greater, on the other hand, grows the
trouble and harm.
It’s hard to endure; to you I say it who have heard how joy
was once approved, and all that pertained thereto.
Mais no podetz jurar
Qu’egas de fust no vitz,
Ni vilas, velhs, fronitz,
Esters grat chavalgar.
Lachs es l’afars, e fers e malestans,
Don hom pert Deu e rema malanans.
Vos vitz torneis mandar,

E segre.ls gen garnitz,
E pois dels melhs feritz
Una sazo parlar;
Er’es pretz de raubar
E d’ebranchar berbitz!
Chavalers si’aunitz
Que.s met en domneiar
Pos que tocha dels mas moltos belans,
Ni que rauba gleizas ni viandans!
E vitz per cortz anar

De joglaretz formitz,
Gen chaussatz e vestitz,
Sol per domnas lauzar;
Er no n’auzem parlar,
Tan es lor pretz delitz.
Don es lo tortz issitz
D’elas malrazonar?
No sai de cals, d’elas o dels amans.
Eu dic de totz, que.] pretz n’a trach l’engans!
~
On son gandit joglar
Que vitz gen acolhitz?
C’a tal a mester guitz
Que solia guidar;
E pero, ses reptar,
Vai er tals escharitz,
Pos fo bos pretz falhitz,
Que solia menar
De companhos, e no sai dire cans,
Gen en arnes e bels e benestans. over
But you cannot swear that you’ve not seen wooden mares,
nor lowborn churls, old and broken, unwilling to act as
knights. Such behaviour is ugly and hateful and unseemly, and
by it one loses God and remains wretched.
You once saw tourneys proclaimed, and well-equipped men

follow them, and then for a time (you heard) talk of the best
exploits; now it is merit to steal and snatch sheep from the
fold! Shame on the knight who proceeds to pay court after he
lays his hands on bleating sheep, and robs churches or travel-
lers on the road!
And you once saw going from court to court skilled minstrels,
finely shod and dressed, solely to praise noblewomen; of the
latter we now hear no talk, so much is their merit in ruins.
Whence comes the fault of speaking ill of them? I know not
from whom, whether from them or their lovers. I say from all,
and deceit has borne off the prize!
Where have the minstrels fled whom you once saw graciously
welcomed? For such a one needs a guide who used to guide,
and so, without fault being found, such a one now goes about
all alone, since fine merit was betrayed, who used to lead I
know not how many friends, all finely equipped and fair and
seemly.
Qu’eu eis que solh sonar
Totz pros, om eissernitz,
Estauc tan esbaitz
Que no.m sai conselhar;
Qu’en loc de solassar
Auch er’en cortz los critz
C’aitan leu s’er grazitz
De l’aucha de Bretmar
Lo comtes, entre lor, com us bos chans
Dels rics afars e dels tems e dels ans.
Mas a cor afranchar

Que s’es trop enduritz,
No deu om los oblitz
Ni.ls velhs fachs remembrar;
Que mals es a laissar
Afars, pos es plevitz,
E.] mal don sui garitz
No.m chal ja mezinar.
Mas so c’om ve, volv’e vir e balans
E prend’e lais e forse d’ams los pans!
D’aitan me posc vanar

C’anc mos ostals petitz
No fo dels envazitz,
Que.| vei per totz doptar,
Ni no.m fetz mas onrar
Lo volpils ni P’arditz;
Don mos senher chauzitz <
Se deuria pensar
Que no l’es ges pretz ni laus ni bobans
Qu’eu, que.m laus d’els, sia de lui clamans.
Era no m’ais. Per que ? No m’o demans!

Car planchs sera s’aissi rema mos chans.
So di.l Dalfis que conois los bos chans.

And I myself, who used to celebrate all noble men in song, I,
a discerning man, stand so confounded that I know not what
counsel to take; for in place of noble pleasures, I hear now in
courts such a din that the tale of Bretmar’s goose would be as
readily received among them as a fine song of lofty deeds, of
present times and of years gone by.
But to soften the heart which has become indifferent, one

should not recall the old, forgotten deeds: and a wicked action
is to be left alone, once it is proved so, and the sickness of which
I’m cured I’m not concerned with treating. But that (ill) which
one sees, let one twist and turn and weigh up, and take and drop
and snatch up by both ends!
Of this much can I boast that never was my little house set on
by them, for I see it respected by all and neither the cowardly
nor the bold did me anything but honour; whence my gracious
lord should think to himself that it’s not for him a cause of
merit or praise or glory that I, who am content with them,
should complain of him.
For the moment I’m not worrying. Why ?Don’t ask me that!
For it will be a pity if thus my song is neglected.
This says the Dauphin, a connoisseur of good songs.

VII. Reis glorios, verais lums e clartatz,
Deus poderos, Senher, si a vos platz,
Al meu companh siatz fizels aiuda;
Qu’eu no lo vi pos la nochs fo venguda,
Et ades sera l’alba.
Bel companho, si dormetz o velhatz,

No dormatz plus, siiau vos ressidatz;
Qu’en orien vei l’estela creguda
C’amena.l jorn, qu’eu I’ai be conoguda,
Bel companho, en chantan vos apel;

No dormatz plus, qu’eu auch chantar l’auzel
Que vai queren lo jorn per lo boschatge,
Et ai paor que.! gilos vos assatge,
Bel companho, issetz al fenestrel,

E regardatz las estelas del cel!
Conoisseretz si.us sui fizels messatge.
Sinon o faitz, vostres n’er lo damnatge,
Bel companho, pos me parti de vos,

Eu no.m dormi ni.m moc de genolhos,
Ans preiei Deu, lo filh Santa Maria,
Que.us me rendes per leial companhia,
Et ades sera l’alba. a
Bel companho, la foras als peiros

Me preiavatz qu’eu no fos dormilhos,
Enans velhes tota noch tro al dia.
Era no.us platz mos chans ni ma paria,
—Bel dous companh, tan sui en ric sojorn

Qu’eu no volgra mais fos alba ni jorn,
Car la gensor que anc nasques de maire
Tenc et abras, per qu’eu non prezi gaire
Lo fol gilos ni Palba.
VII. Glorious King, true light and splendour, almighty God, Lord,
if it please You, to my companion be a faithful aid, for I’veseen
him not since night came on, and soon it will be dawn.
Sweet friend, if you sleep or wake, sleep you no more; gently

rise again for, in the East, I see the star arisen which brings
the day, and I have marked it well; and soon it will be dawn.
Sweet friend, in song I call you; sleep you no more, for I hear
the bird sing as it goes seeking the daylight through the woods,
and I fear lest the jealous one assail you; and soon it will be
dawn.
Sweet friend, go to the window, and look at the stars in the

sky!You'll know if I’m your faithful messenger. If you do not,
then yours will be the harm; and soon it will be dawn.
Sweet friend, since I left you, I have not slept or got up from
my knees, but I’ve prayed God, the son of Holy Mary, that
He might return you to me in loyal friendship; and soon it will
be dawn.
Sweet friend, out there by the steps you begged me that I

should not be sleepy but should keep watch all night until the
day. Now neither my song nor my company pleases you, and
soon it will be dawn.
—Sweet, gentle friend, in such a rich dwelling am I that I

would it were never more dawn or day; for the most noble
woman that ever was born of mother I hold and embrace;
hence I heed not the jealous fool, nor the dawn.
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Bertran deBorn
LiFe. Bertran de Born, a minor nobleman sharing with his

brother the castle of Hautefort in the Périgord, was born in
the early 1140s; twice married, with five children, by 1192, he
later became a monk in the abbey of Dalon where his presence
is attested from 1197 to 1202. He died some time between this
year and 1215. Though not a professional troubadour, he had
relied on his poetic talents to gain the favour of more eminent
noblemen, above all of the Plantagenet princes—Henry,
crowned king in his father’s lifetime, Richard, count of Poitou,
duke of Aquitaine and, from 1189, king of England, and
Geoffrey, count of Brittany. No doubt Bertran shared the
admiration of many of his contemporaries for these princes
and profited materially from the relations he cultivated with
them but, underlying his attitude, is a more personal, more
vital motive, born of his material circumstances, his position in
the feudal hierarchy, his ethical convictions and his artistic
sensibility. This motive was not exactly a love of domestic
strife as Dante suggests and for which, in the /nferno, he casts
Bertran into hell’s eighth circle; it was, more simply, a love of
war. War enabled the knight-poet to oust his detested brother
from Hautefort, loosed the great nobles’ purse-strings, made
real the ideals of true chivalry, and delighted the artist’s eye
and ear. That it also took the form of strife between the sons
of Henry 11, between the sons and the father, vassal and
suzerain, suzerain and sovereign, was for Bertran an historical
accident. True, in his verse, he urged on the rebels, claimed
even to influence the course of events, but the actual trouble-
makers were elsewhere, and Dante’s judgement, accepted by
many modern critics, seems somewhat exaggerated.
woORKS. Bertran seems to have come to poetry at a fairly late
age, for none of his forty or so works can be dated before 1180,
while many of them belong to the period 1181-1195. Already
in an early group of love-songs, which weave round the strands
of conventional courtly mozifs a tissue of praise in honour of
some high-born lady, a preoccupation with the real world
contrasts strongly with the timeless abstraction of the classical
canso. Many of his sirventés, which constitute the greater part
of his work, formulate reactions to specific political events,
while a smaller number outline the poet’s concepts of courtly
and chivalrous behaviour in the contemporary social context.
Whether Bertran is urging on the barons to revolt, reminding
his suzerain of some unanswered provocation, deploring the
princes’ occasional inclinations to peace, or celebrating the
splendours of the battlefield, the sharpness and intensity of his
feelings are matched only by the vividness with which actual
scenes and events are evoked. A simplicity of expression and
of formal structure adds further to that unmistakable individu-
ality of style achieved only by the greatest troubadours. By
combining the vigour and realism of epic style and theme with
the lyric’s formal and emotional concentration, Bertran de Born
added a new dimension to troubadour poetry, an achievement
recognized by Dante when, in his De Vulgari Eloquentia, he
nominates the castellan of Hautefort the model poet of arms.
EDITION. C. Appel Die Lieder Bertrans von Born (Halle
1932).
SELECTION. Bertran’s original handling of the canso form is
well illustrated in the first poem (Appel no. 1). Historical
figures are directly addressed or referred to, Rassa designating
Geoffrey of Brittany, Mariniers Henry the Young King, Bel
Senher some local lady, presumably, while the poet’s own
suzerain, Richard, is mentioned as the lord who prefers
tourneys to war and hesitates to engage with the rebellious
viscount (Aimar of Limoges) who is cast, for the occasion, in
the role of Maurin, hero of a now lost Provengal epic. Realistic
description replaces stereotyped evocation, and the conven-
tional rdle of courtly lover is discarded for the idiosyncratic
function of court-poet. In the second poem (Appel no. 40), as
near a perfect formulation of Bertran’s main theme as can be
found, the sights and sounds of the battlefield are impressively
presented; its violence too, no doubt, but so also are the ethical
values by which the poet gives meaning to the scene and which,
from that scene, derive their authenticity. The completeness
of the poem, as vision and as self-revelation, is if anything
Bertran de Born TOS)
thrown into relief by the final caustic aside which Bertran’s

minstrel is instructed to make known to Richard Lionheart,
the poet’s Lord Yes-and-No. More frequent, however, than
such general declarations are the comments on political events
such as are made in the next three poems (Appel nos. 27, 36,
37). In the first, the poet deplores the treaty of Chateauroux
concluded in 1187 between Philip of France and Henry II—
then indeed master of the three French duchies of Normandy,
Brittany, and Aquitania, as well as of the territories of Maine
and Anjou. That kings should settle their differences by the
methods of the market-place is contrary to the old knightly
ethos which, incarnated for Bertran in the violent and bloody
Guerin and his nephew, heroes of the epic poem Raoul de
Cambrai, is yet associated with the courtly pleasantries addres-
sed, in the envoy, to /sembart, thought to be Conon de
Béthune, a northern French souvére. In the second, dating
from 1194, the return of Richard (from captivity in Germany )
is heralded as ensuring renewed military campaigning. Dis-
sociating himself from the dissident local barons, Bertran
recalls the origins of his own loyalty by a rapid allusion (st. 5 )
to the events of 1183 when Richard, having seized the strong-
hold of Hautefort, restored it ultimately —and exclusively —to
him. The particular event which sparked off the third of these
political sirveniés is not known; again the prospect of battle
excites the poet’s enthusiasm, but he concludes on a somewhat
resigned and world-weary note, seemingly anticipating his
withdrawal, only a few years later, into the abbey of Dalon.
The last poem (Appel no. 43), a lament on the death of Henry
the Young King in 1183, is attributed to Bertran by only one of
three manuscripts, yet it seems reasonable to append it to the
other works of the cortes soudadier who, more than any other
troubadour, devoted his praises to the first three sons of
Henry 11, ensuring that their fame should live on not only in the
chronicler’s dry pages but also in the vigorous and resplendent
verse of the poor knight whom they once favoured.
Rassa, tan creis e monta e poia
Cela qu’es de totz enjans voia,
Sos pretz a las autras enoia;
Qu’una no.i a que ren i noia,
Que.| vezers de sa beutat loia
Los pros a sos ops, cui que coia.
Que.lh plus conoissen e.lh melhor
Mantenon ades sa lauzor,
E la tenon per la genzor;
Quwilh sap far tan entieir’onor,
No vol mas un sol preiador.
Rassa, domn’ai qu’es frescha e fina,

Coinda e gaia mesquina;
Pel saur ab color de robina,
Blancha pel cors com flors d’espina,
Coude mol ab dura tetina,
E sembla conil de l’esquina.
A la fina frescha color,
Al bo pretz et a la lauzor,
Lieu podon triar la melhor,
Cilh que si fan conoissedor
De me, ves qual part ieu azor.
Rassa, als rics es orgolhosa,

E fai gran sen a lei de tosa,
Que no vol Peitieus ni Tolosa
Ni Bretanha ni Saragosa;
Anz es de pretz tanenveiosa
Qu’als pros paubres es amorosa.
Puois m’a pres per chastiador,
Prec li que tenha char s’amor,
Et am mais un pro vavassor
Qu’un comte o duc galiador,
Que la tengues a desonor.
Rassa, rics om que re no dona,

Ni acuolh, ni met ni no sona,
E que senes tort ochaisona
E, qui merce.lh quier, no perdona, over
Bertran de Born ROG
Rassa! She who is innocent of all guile so grows, increases,

and becomes more perfect, her merit offends all others; for
there’s not one lady whom she harms not in some measure
since the sight of her beauty enlists the worthy to her cause,
no matter who’s aggrieved. And the most knowing and the
best maintain all times her praise and hold her to be the most
noble; for she is capable of such perfect honour, she desires but
one suitor alone.
Rassa! A lady have I who is fresh and pure, a graceful and gay
young girl, golden-haired with tints of ruby, with skin as
white as hawthorn flower, supple of arm, firm of breast, and like
a young rabbit’s is her back. By her pure and fresh complexion,
by her high merit and by her praise they can easily single her
out as the best—they who claim to know in which quarter I
adore.
Rassa! She is proud towards the mighty and, like a young girl,
acts with much sense, for she wants neither Poitiers nor
Toulouse, nor Brittany nor Saragossa; but she is so desirous of
merit that she shows love to the worthy without wealth. Since
she has chosen me for guide, I pray her that she hold dear her
love and love more a worthy vassal than a deceiving count or
duke who would hold her in dishonour.
Rassa! The great man who gives naught away, who welcomes
not, either by gifts or words, who accuses where there is no
wrong, and if one asks him for mercy, pardons not—
M’enoia, e tota persona
Que servizi no guizerdona.
E li ric ome chassador
M’enoian, e.lh buzacador;
Gaban de volada d’austor,
Ni ja mais d’armas ni d’amor
No parlaran mot entre lor.
Rassa, aisso.us prec que vos plassa:

Rics om que de guerra no.s lassa,
Ni no s’en recre per menassa
Tro qu’om si lais que mal no.lh fassa,
Val mais que ribieira ni chassa,
Que bo pretz n’acuolh e n’abrassa.
Maurin ab N’Aigar, so senhor,
Te om per bon envazidor;
E.l vescoms defenda s’onor,
E.1 coms deman la.lh per vigor,
E veiam l’ades, al pascor!
Mariniers, vos avetz onor,

E nos avem chamjat senhor—
Bo guerrier per torneiador.
E prec a’N Golfier de la Tor
Mos chantars no.lh fassa paor.
Papiols, mon chantar recor

En la cort mo mal Bel Senhor.
Ts Be.m platz lo gais temps de pascor

Que fai fuolhas e flors venir,
E platz mi quan auch la baudor
Dels auzels, que fan retentir
Lor chan per lo boschatge;
E platz mi quan vei sobre.ls pratz
Tendas e pavilhos fermatz,
Et ai gran alegratge
Quan vei per champanha renjatz
Chavaliers e chavals, armatz. over
Bertran de Born 159
this man offends me, and anyone who rewards not service. And
the great men who spend their time in hunting and falconry
offend me; they boast of some goshawk’s flight but will never,
among themselves, speak a word of arms or of love.
Rassa! This I pray you to agree with: for a great man not to
weary of war and not to renounce it for any threat till one has
desisted from doing him harm, is worth more than river-sports
and hunting, for thereby he wins and thereby upholds high
merit. Maurin, against his lord Sir Aigar, is deemed a fine
warrior; so let the viscount fight for his lands and title, and let
the count seek them from him by force, and let us see him here
soon, at Eastertide!
Mariner, you have lands and titles, but we’ve changed lords—
a jouster for a fine warrior. And I pray Sir Golfier de la Tour
not to be alarmed by my singing.
Papiol, run through my song at the court of my unfair Fair

Lord.
Well am I pleased by gay Eastertide which makes leaves and

flowers come, and I’m pleased when [ hear the birds’ blitheness
as they make their song ring through the woodland; and I’m
pleased when over the fields I see tents and pavilions pitched,
and I’m greatly cheered when I see lined up on the plain
horsemen and horses, armed.
E platz mi quan li corredor
Fan las gens e l’aver fugir,
E platz mi quan vei apres lor
Gran re d’armatz ensems venir:
E platz mi en mon coratge
Quan vei fortz chastels assetjatz,
E.ls barris rotz et esfondratz,
E vei Post el ribatge
Qu’es tot entorn claus de fossatz,
Ab lissas de fortz pals serratz.
Et autresi.m platz de senhor

Quan es primiers a l’envazir,
En chaval, armatz, ses temor;
Qu’aissi fai los sieus enardir
Ab valen vassalatge.
E puois que l’estorns es mesclatz,
Chascus deu esser acesmatz
E segre.| d’agradatge,
Que nuls om non es re prezatz
Tro qu’a maintz colps pres e donatz.
Massas e brans, elms de color,

Escutz trauchar e desguarnir
Veirem a l’entrar de l’estor,
E maintz vassals ensems ferir,
Don anaran arratge
Chaval dels mortz e dels nafratz.
E quan er en l’estorn entratz, NS
Chascus om de paratge
No pens mas d’asclar chaps e bratz,
Que mais val mortz que vius sobratz.
Ie.us dic que tan no m’a sabor

Manjar ni beure ni dormir
Com a quan auch cridar ‘A lor!’
D’ambas las partz, et auch ennir
Chavals vochs per l’ombratge,
Et auch cridar ‘Aidatz! Aidatz!’ over
Bertran de Born 161
And I’m pleased when the skirmishers put people and riches to
flight, and it pleases me when I see after them a great mass of
armed men come together; and I’m pleased in my heart when
I see strong castles besieged, and the ramparts breached and
crumbled, and I see the defending host on the bank which is
enclosed all round by moats protected by strong palissades.
And I’m likewise pleased by the lord when he’s foremost in

the attack, on horseback, armed, and fearless; for thus does he
make his men grow bold in valiant vassal-service; and then
when battle’s joined each should be ready to follow him with
good heart, for no man’s esteemed at all until he’s taken and
dealt many blows.
Maces and swords, coloured helmets and shields being holed

and smashed we shall see when battle is first joined, and many
vassals clashing together, from which steeds of the dead and
wounded will go riderless. And once he has entered the fray
let each man of high birth think of naught but of splitting heads
and arms, for better it is to be dead than alive and overcome.
I tell you that for me there’s no such pleasure in eating or

drinking or sleeping as there is when I hear shout ‘Get at
them!’ from all sides, and when I hear riderless horses whinny
in the shade, and I hear shout “Help! Help!’
E vei chazer per los fossatz
Paucs e grans per l’erbatge,
E vei los mortz que pels costatz
An los tronzos ab los cendatz.
Baro, metetz en gatge

Chastels e vilas e ciutatz,
Enanz qu’usquecs no.us guerreiatz !
Papiols, d’agradatge
A’N Oc-e-No t’en vai viatz,
E dijas li que trop estai en patz.
III. Puois als baros enoia e lor pesa

D’aquesta patz qu’an facha li dui rei,
Farai chanzo tal que, quan er apresa,
A cadau sera tart que guerrei.
E no m’es bel de rei qu’en patz estei
Deseretatz, ni que perda son drei,
Tro la demanda qu’a fach’a conquesa.
Ad ambedos te om ad avolesa
Quar an fach plach don quecs de lor sordei.
Cine duchatz a la corona francesa
E, si.ls comtatz, son a dire li trei!
E de Gisortz pert lo ces e l’esplei,
E Caercis rema sai en trepei, ~
E Bretanha e la terra engolmesa.
Ges aitals patz no melhura préesa

Com aquesta, ni autra qu’om li grei,
Ni deu sofrir qu’om li bais sa richesa,
Puois Essaudu a tornat deves sei
Lo reis Enrics, e mes en son destrei.
E no.s cuich ges qu’a son ome s’autrei
Sil fieu d’Angieus li merma una tesa.
Sil reis engles li fetz do ni larguesa,

Al rei Felip, drechs es qu’el l’en mercei! over
Bertran de Born 163
and I see falling alongside the moats both humble and mighty
in the grass, and I see the dead who through their ribs have bits
of lance with the silk pennons.
Barons! put into pawn your castles and towns and cities sooner
than not wage war among yourselves!
Papiol, with good heart go quickly to my Lord Yes-and-No,

and tell him that he stands too long in peace.
Ill. Since the barons are vexed and offended by this peace which
the two kings have made, I’ll compose such a song that, when
it is known of, each one of them will long to be at war. And
I’m not pleased by a king who stands in peace, robbed of his
heritage, or that he lose his rights, before he’s secured by force
the demand which he’s made.
In both it is considered baseness that they’ve made a pact by

which each of them is worse off. Five duchies has the French
crown and, if you count them up, there are three of them
missing! and it loses the tax and revenue of Gisors, and
Quercy remains, here, in disorder, and Brittany and the land
round Angouléme.
Not at all does such peace enhance prowess as this one, or any
other which might be forced upon him; nor should he endure
that anyone cut down his resources, when King Henry has
made off with Issoudun and brought it within his sway. And
let him not think at all that the latter would pay him homage
if he reduces for him the fief of Angers by a yard!
If the English king bestowed on him gifts and largesse, it’s

right for King Philip that he should thank him for it!
Que.lh fetz liurar la moneda englesa
Qu’en Franza.n son charcit sac e correi;
E no foron Anjavi ni Mancei,
Que d’esterlis foro.lh primier conrei
Que desconfiron la gen champenesa!
Lo sors Guerics dis paraula cortesa

Quan so nebot vi tornat en esfrei:
Que desarmatz volgra.n fos la fis presa;
Quan fo armatz, no volc penre plaidei.
E no semblet ges lo senhor d’Orlei,
Que desarmatz fo de peior mercei
Que quan el chap ac la ventalha mesa.
A rei armat lo te om a flaquesa,

Quan es en champ e vai querre plaidei.
Ben an chamjat onor per cobeitesa,
Segon qu’auch dir, Borgonho e Francei!
E valgra mais, per la fe qu’ieu vos dei,
Al rei Felip, comenzes lo desrei
Que plaideiar, armatz, sobre la gresa.
Vai, Papiols, mo sirventes a drei

Mi portaras part Crespi el Valei
Mon Isembart, en la terra artesa.
E dijas li qu’a tal domna soplei,

Que marves puosc jurar sobre ma lei
Que.lh genser es del mon, e.lh plus cortesa.
IV. Ar ve la coindeta sazos

Que aribaran nostras naus,
E venra.l reis, galhartz e pros,
Qu’anc lo reis Richartz no fo taus.
Adoncs veirem aur et argen despendre,
Peirieiras far, destrapar e destendre,
Murs esfondrar, tors baissar et deissendre,
E.ls enemics enchadenar e prendre. over
Bertran de Born 165
For he had the English money delivered to him, so that in

France bags and pouches are full of it; and they were not men
of Anjou or of Maine, but of pounds sterling, those first bat-
talions which defeated Champagne’s forces!
Guerrin the Red spoke fair when he saw his nephew in alarm,
saying that, unarmed, he would want a truce concluded; once
he was armed, he wanted to make no pact. And he wasn’tat all
like the Lord of Orleans because, unarmed, he was indeed in
worse straits than when he had set his helmet on his head.
In an armed king it is considered weakness, when he is on the

field and goes suing for peace. They have indeed exchanged
honour for greed, from what I hear say, Burgundians and
Frenchmen! And it would have been better for King Philip, in
faith, had he joined battle rather than sue for peace, armed, on
the river bank.
Go Papiol, you'll bear my sirventes directly, by Crépy-en-

Valois, to my Isembart in the Artois.
And tell him I woo such a lady that, without hesitation, I can
swear by all I hold right that she is the noblest in the world,
and the most courtly.
LY: Now comes the fair season when our ships will put in to port,
and the bold and worthy king will come, King Richard, who
never was such before. Then we shall see gold and silver spent,
siege-machines built, unleashed and sprung, walls collapse,
towers topple and fall down, and the enemies taken and
enchained.
‘

Ges no.m platz de nostres baros
Qu’an fachs sagramens, no sai quaus;
Per so n’estaran vergonhos,
Com lo lops qu’al latz es enclaus,
Quan nostre reis poira mest nos atendre.
Qu’estiers nuls d’els no s’en poira defendre,
Anz diran tuit “Me no pot om mesprendre
De nul mal plach, anz mi vuolh a vos rendre’.
Bela m’es pressa de blezos

Cobertz de teintz vermelhs e blaus,
D’entresenhs e de gonfanos
De diversas colors tretaus,
Tendas e traps e rics pavilhos tendre,
Lanzas frassar, escutz traucar, e fendre
Elmes brunitz, e colps donar e prendre
[ey See ees eee ee tenn < Sendrel:
No.m platz companha de basclos,

Ni de las putanas venaus;
Sacs d’esterlis e de moutos
M’es laitz, quan son vengut de fraus.
E maisnadier eschars deuria om pendre,
E ric ome, quan son donar vol vendre;
En domn’escharsa no.s deuria om entendre
Que per aver pot pleiar e estendre.
Bo.m sap P'usatge qu’a.l léos

Qu’a re vencuda nonesmaus, .
Mas contr’orguolhos es orgolhos.
E.] reis non a baros aitaus;
Anz, quan vezon que sos afars es mendre,
Ponha chascus cossi.1 puoscha mesprendre.
E no.us cujetz qu’ieu fassa motz a vendre,
Mas per ric bar deu om tot jorn contendre.
Bertran de Born 167
I’m not pleased at all by our barons who have sworn I know not
what oaths; for this they'll stand in shame like the wolf which
is caught in the trap, when our king can be present in our
midst. For in no other way will any of them be able to defend
himself from him, but they'll all say “No one can catch me out
in any plot, rather I wish to render myself to you’.
Pleasant to me is a throng of shields covered in blue and

scarlet hues, of ensigns and banners likewise of varying
colours; tents and bivouacs and splendid pavilions pitched,
lances shattered, shields pierced, and burnished helmets split,
and blows given and taken. . . .
The company of brigands pleases me not, nor that of venal

whores; bags of sterling and French silver repel me, when
they’ve come from fraud. And one should hang a mean captain,
and the rich man when he sells what he should give away; nor
should a man pay court to a mean mistress whom by wealth he
can win over and bring to bed.
The lion’s custom appeals to me, who is not cruel to a creature

once overcome, but who is proud in the face of pride. And the
king has no other such barons; rather, when they see that his
cause is worsened, each seeks how he might catch him out.
And don’t imagine that I compose words for sale, but, for a
great lord, one should at all times contend.
Miei-sirventes vuolh far dels reis amdos,
Qu’en brieu veirem qu’aura mais chavaliers
Del valen rei de Castela, N’Anfos,
Qu’auch dir que ve e volra soudadiers.
Richartz metra a muois et a sestiers
Aur et argen, e te.s a benananza
Metr’e donar, e no vol s’afianza,
Anz vol guerra mais que qualha esparviers.
S’amdui li rei son pro ni coratjos,

En brieu veirem champs jonchatz de quartiers
D’elms e d’escutz, e de brans e d’arzos,
E de fendutz per bustz tro als braiers,
Et arratge veirem anar destriers,
E per costatz e per pechs mainta lanza,
E gauch e plor e dol et alegranza;
Lo perdr’er grans, e.l guazanhs er sobriers.
Trompas, tabors, senheras e penos,

Et entresenhs, e chavals blancs e niers
Veirem en brieu, que.| segles sera bos;
Que hom tolra l’aver als usuriers,
E per chamis non anara saumiers,
Jorn afiatz, ni borges ses doptanza,
Ni merchadiers qui venha de ves Franza;
Anz sera rics qui tolra volontiers.
Mas si.l reis ve, ieu ai en Dieu fianza

Qu’ieu serai vius, 0 serai per quattiers;
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
E si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers.
VI Si tuit li dol e.lh plor e.lh marrimen

E las dolors e.lh dan e.lh chaitivier
Qu’om anc auzis en est segle dolen
Fossen ensems, sembleran tot leugier
Contra la mort del jove rei engles,
Don rema Pretz e Jovens doloros,
E.] mons oscurs e teintz e tenebros,
Sems de tot joi, ples de tristor e d’ira. over
Bertran de Born 169
A half-sirventes I would compose concerning both the kings,

for soon we'll see who has more knights than the valiant king
of Castile, Lord Alfonso, and I hear say that he comes and will
want hired men. Richard will spend gold and silver in bushels
and gallons, and he considers it his happiness to spend and to
give away; nor does he want to treat for peace, rather he wants
war more than the hawk the quail.
If both the kings are worthy and brave, we’ll soon see fields
strewn with fragments of helmets, of shields, of swords, and of
saddlebows, and with men split through the trunk down to
their breeches, and riderless we'll see chargers go, and many a
lance through ribs and through breasts, and rejoicing and
weeping, and grief and exultation; the losses will be great, and
the winnings splendid.
Trumpets, tabors, banners and pennants, and ensigns and

black and white horses we shall see soon, and life will be good,
when one takes from the usurers their wealth, and no pack-
horse goes on the roads even by day in safety, nor townsman
without fear, nor any merchant coming from France; rather
will he be rich who is ready to plunder.
But if the king comes I have in God my trust, for I'll be alive or
I'll be in pieces; and if I’m alive, it will be for me great
happiness, and if I die, it will be for me great deliverance.
VI. If all the grief, the tears, and the distress, the suffering, the
pain, and the misery which one had ever heard of in this griev-
ous life were put together, they would all seem slight com-
pared with the death of the young English king, for which
Merit and Youth are left grieving, and the world dark and
sombre and gloomy, empty of all joy, full of sadness and
sorrow.
Dolen e trist e ple de marrimen
Son remasut li cortes soudadier,
E.lh trobador e.lh joglar avinen;
Trop an agut en Mort mortal guerrier,
Que tout lor a lo jove rei engles,
Ves cui eran li plus larc cobeitos.
Ja non er mais, ni no crezatz que fos,
Ves aquest dan el segle plors ni ira.
Estenta Mortz, plena de marrimen,

Vanar ti potz que.! melhor chavalier
As tout al mon qu’anc fos de nula gen,
Quar non es res qu’a pretz aia mestier
Que tot no fos el jove rei engles.
E fora mielhs, s’a Dieu plagues razos,
Que visques el que maint autr’enoios
Qu’anc no feiron als pros mas dol et ira.
D’aquest segle flac, ple de marrimen,

S’amors s’en vai, son joi tenh menzongier,
Que re no.i a que no torn en cozen;
Totz jorns veuzis, e val mens uoi que ier.
Chascus si mir el jove rei engles
Qu’era del mon lo plus valens dels pros.
Ar es anatz sos gens cors amoros,
Don es dolors e desconortz et ira.
Celui que plac pel nostre marrimen

Venir el mon nos traire d’encombrier,
E receup mort a nostre salvamen,
Com a senhor umil e drechurier,
Clamem merce, qu’al jove rei engles
Perdo, si.lh platz, si com es vers perdos,
E.l fassa estar ab onratz companhos
Lai on anc dol non ac, ni aura ira.
Bertran de Born 172
Grieving and sad and full of distress are the courtly retainers
left behind, and the poets and the pleasant minstrels; too much
have they had in Death a deathly foe, for it has taken from them
the young English king, beside whom the most generous were
mean. There never more will be, and think not there ever was
here below, beside this loss, such lament or sorrow.
Dull, distressful Death, you can boast that you’ve robbed the
world of the best knight there ever was of any nation; for there
is nothing which pertains to Merit which was not all in the
young English king. It would have been better, had reason
pleased God, that he had lived rather than many hateful ones
who never caused the worthy aught but grief and sorrow.
If from this mean, distressful world Love goes away, I con-

sider its joy false, for there is nothing which turns not to burn-
ing pain; each day grows worse, to-day is worth less than
yesterday. Let each one model himself on the young English
king who, in the whole world, was the most valiant of the
worthy. Now is his noble, lovely person gone, whence there
is grief and dismay and sorrow.
To Him Whom it pleased, because of our distress, to come

into the world and deliver us from our shackles, and Who
suffered death for our salvation, as to a gracious and just lord,
let us cry mercy that He might forgive, ifit please Him, as He is
true forgiveness, the young English king, and that He might
set him among the honoured companions, there where there
never was grief, nor will be sorrow.
eArnaut Daniel
Lire. Arnaut Daniel, from the castle of Ribérac in the

Périgord, was, like his neighbour Bertran de Born, of noble
birth. It is more than possible that the two poets were friends
but, whereas in Bertran de Born’s work, we can perceive
positive traces of the poet’s personal situation, such traces are
rare indeed in the poetry of Arnaut Daniel. One poem elabor-
ates a jest shared with two minor noblemen of the Quercy, and
another claims that the poet had been at many fine courts; on
one occasion Arnaut affirms that he was present at the crown-
ing of Philip 11 of France, and on another he addresses his
audience as ‘senhor e companhon’. Such fragmentary indica-
tions as these, coupled with the almost complete absence from
his work of any specifically professional themes, motifs, or
attitudes, suggest that he may not have been the ‘minstrel’
which his mediaeval biographer reports him to be; an
independent status, moreover, would account for the relatively
limited number of his compositions, as indeed for certain of
their internal features. As for the chronological details of his
literary activity, such limited evidence as his work offers in-
dicates the period c. 1180-c. 1200, and nothing permits us to
suppose that he himself outlived the twelfth century.
works. Of Arnaut Daniel’s eighteen extant compositions,
one only is not a canso; reminiscent of William 1x’s coarsely
erotic humour, it comments in detail on a situation analagous
to that in which Absolon found himself in the Miller’s tale. The
remainder are songs of courtly love, almost entirely free of
allusion to external events and situations, and yet, if Arnaut
Daniel the man remains a vague and shadowy figure, the
artist emerges as a most positive and clear-cut individual. One
is aware above all of an exceptionally lively imagination which
endows his work with a wealth and variety of imagery drawn
not only from traditional literary sources but also from the
everyday, practical realities of feudal existence. Closely
associated with it is a constant striving after richness and
variety of rime and other acoustic effects, and one can see why
his early biographer complained that ‘he so delighted in rich
rime that his songs are not easy to understand’. However, as
was already evident to Dante when he proposed Arnaut
Daniel as the model poet of love (De Vulg. Elog. 11, 2),
brilliance of imagery and of versification is no mere external
ornament; it is integrated into a coherent unity of structure in
which art and inspiration are inseparable. Through his liveliest
images is conveyed a certain ecstatic quality of feeling, best.
experienced in the vigorous and often sensuous celebration of
love’s joy, while the distinctive character of his rime and
sound-patterns expresses not only an obvious emotional
plenitude, becoming on occasion obsession and absorption in
love’s conflicting emotions, but also a less obvious irony or
dream-like fantasy in which plenitude, obsession, and absorp-
tion are more than once dissolved. This structural unity
represents one of the highest achievements of mediaeval
Provencal verse; it is surely this which, more than isolated
technical detail, so impressed the Italian poets of the thirteenth
and fourteenth centuries, which Dante analysed, admired, and
imitated, and which led Petrarch in turn to speak of Arnaut
Daniel as the ‘gran maestro d’amor, ch’a la sua terra ancor fa
onor, col suo dir strano e bello’.
EDITION. Gianluigi Toja Arnaut Daniel, Canzoni (Florence
1960).
SELECTION. The first piece (Toja no. 12) is unique among
the poet’s cansos by virtue of the sirventés-type matter of the
final stanza. It is however noticeable that, while the historical
figures evoked elsewhere in the poem are readily identifiable
—Henry 11 of England and Sancho tv of Navarre in st. 2,
Henry II again and Guy de Lusignan, king of Jerusalem, in
st. 6, and Philip 11 of France (crowned in 1180) in the sornada
—the allusions made in st. 7 are so vague and imprecise that
one feels that the poet himself had but a confused notion of
the deeds attributed to Fernando, king of Galicia and Leon.
In no other poem does he renew this attempt to comment on
the political or social scene. In the second canso for example
(Toja no. 3) the evocations of ‘selh de Pontremble’ and of
Savoy have no closer connection with the external world than
Arnaut Daniel HGS
that of Helen and Paris of Troy, their sole function being to

meet the demands of rime and stylistic colour. All the more
striking, then, is the mention in the éornada of the poet’s own
name; no less than fifteen of the cansos are signed in this way,
and the device suggests rather the amateur’s pride in his work
than the professional’s self-protective claim to copyright. A
comparable note of pride inspires the first stanza of the next
poem (Toja no. 10), a pride in craftsmanship closely akin to
that expressed by such princely amateurs as William 1x and
Raimbaut d’Orange. In this canso one notices too the typically
varied nature of the images; epic in the allusions to the
legendary Spanish city of Luserna and to the hero of Monclin,
historical in the references to Pope and Emperor—the thrones
of both were vacant in 1191—and realistic in the evocation of
the woodworker’s craft, the usurer’s excesses, and the plough-
man’s labours. But more typical yet of the poet’s art and
inspiration are the closing lines, where the poet ironically—
but aptly —characterizes his strivings as artist and lover. Dante
recalls them in the speech he attributes to Arnaut Daniel in his
vision of Purgatory (canto xxv1), and they are still vivid in
Petrarch’s mind, when, on two occasions, he uses the image
of hunting ‘con un bue zoppo’. The fourth selected poem (Toja
no. 15) is distinguished by its structural qualities; its unity,
coherence and elegance of thought and expression constitute
a convincing and impressive formulation of the courtly ideal.
The last poem (Toja no. 18) is a more original and unusual
composition; developing to their highest point of complexity
a number of his favourite devices of rime and stanza-structure,
the poet has created an entirely new lyric form, the sestina. Its
technical virtuosity has blinded many critics to its less formal
qualities, but the real problem is to appreciate how far the
ironic effect, pointed up by the onc/e rime, was intended to
destroy, to dominate, or simply to contend with the mood of
emotional intensity created, in particular, by the arma and
cambra motifs. Once again this poet reminds one of an aspect
of William 1x’s art, and once again one recalls that, in the
tradition of the troubadour canso, a clash of mood and attitude
within the same composition, however it appears in cold prose
translation, was not necessarily meant to produce a burlesque
or comic effect.
Doutz brais e critz,
Lais e cantars e voutas
Aug dels auzels q’en lur latin fant precs,
Qecs ab sa par, atressi cum nos fam
A las amigas en cui entendem.
E doncas ieu, q’en la genssor entendi,
Dei far chansson sobre totz de bell’obra,
Que no.i aia mot fals ni rim’estrampa.
Ges rams floritz

De floretas envoutas,
Cui fan tremblar auzelhon ab lurs becs,
Non es plus frescs, per q’ieu no volh Roam
Aver ses lieis, ni tot Jerusalem.
Pero totz fis, mas juntas, a li.m rendi,
Q’en liei amar agr’ondra.l reis de Dobra,
O celh cui es PEstel’e Luna-pampa.
Non fui marritz,

Ni non presi destoutas,
Al prim q’intriei el chastel, dinz los decs,
Lai on estai midonz don ai gran fam
C’anc non lac tal lo nebotz Sain Guillem.
Mil vetz lo jorn en badaill e.m n’estendi,
Per la bella que totas autras sobra
Tant cant val mais fis gaugz q’ira ni rampa.
Ben fui grazitz

E mas paraulas coutas,
~~
Per so que ges al chausir no fui pecs—

Anz volgui mais prendre fin aur que ram—
Lo jorn qez ieu e midonz nos baisem,
E.m fetz escut de son bel mantel endi
Que lausengier fals, lenga de colobra,
Non 0 visson, don tan mals motz escampa.
Dieus lo chauzitz,
Per cui foron assoutas
Las faillidas que fetz Longis lo cecs, over
Arnaut Daniel oa)
Sweet trills and calls, lays and songs and refrains I hear of the
birds who in their language plead, each with his mate, in the
same way as we do with the loved ones on whom our hearts
are set. And I then, whose heart is set on the most noble, should
above all make a song finely wrought, so that there be in it no
false word or rime unanswered.
The flowering branch decked in blossom, which little birds

make tremble with their beaks, is not more fresh, hence I would
not have Rouen and be without her, nor all Jerusalem. Thus,
most truly, with hands clasped, I give myself to her; for in
loving her would the king of Dover have honour, or he to
whom belong Estella and Pamplona.
I did not stray, nor took I roundabout ways when I first went,
through the outworks, into the castle yonder where dwells my
mistress for whom I have a great hunger such as Saint
William’s nephew had never. A thousand times a day I yawn
and stretch with it, on account of the fair one who surpasses
all others by as much as pure joy prevails over sadness or rage.
I was welcomed indeed and my words well-received, because

I was not stupid in my choosing—I preferred, rather, to take
pure gold than copper—the day when I and my mistress kissed,
and she shielded me with her lovely blue mantle that they
might not see it, the false, snake-tongued tale-tellers by whom
so much evil talk is spread.
May the merciful-God, by Whom were absolved the faults of

blind Longinus,
Voilla, si.l platz, q’ieu e midonz jassam
En la chambra on amdui nos mandem
Uns rics convens don tan gran joi atendi!
Qe.l seu bel cors, baisan, rizen, descobra,
E ge.l remir contra.] lum de la lampa.
Bocca, que ditz?

Q’eu crei qe m’auras toutas
Tals promessas don l’emperaire grecs
En for’onratz, 0.1 senher de Roam,
O.] reis que ten Sur e Jerusalem.
Doncs ben sui fols, que quier tan ge.m rependi,
Que ges Amors non a poder ge.m cobra,
Ni savis es nuls om qui joi acampa.
Los deschauzitz,
Ab las lengas esmoutas,
Non dupvieu ges, si.l seignor dels Galecs
An fag faillir, per q’es dreitz si.] blasmam;
Que son paren pres, romieu, so sabem,
Raimon lo filh al comte, et aprendi
Que greu fara.] reis Ferrans de pretz cobra,
Si mantenen no. solv e no.] escampa.
Eu lagra vist, mas estiei per tal obra:

C’al coronar fui del bon rei d’Estampa.
Ble Quan chai la fuelha

Dels aussors entresims,
E.] freg s’erguelha
Don seca.l vais’e.] vims.
Dels dous refrims
Au sordezir la bruelha,
Mas ieu soi prims
D’amor, qui que s’en tuelha. over
Arnaut Daniel 179
grant, if it please Him, that I and my mistress lie together

in that room for where we both made a precious tryst of
which I expect such great joy! and that I uncover, kissing
and smiling, her lovely person, and gaze upon her in the light
of the lamp!
Lips, what say you? I fear that you will have robbed me of
such promises as the Greek emperor would be honoured by,
or the lord of Rouen or the king who rules Tyr and Jerusalem.
Now I’m indeed a fool since I ask for so much that I repent,
and Love itself has scarce the power to protect me, and no
man is wise who puts joy to flight.
The merciless ones, with sharpened tongues, I dread not,

though they’ve made the lord of the Galicians act basely, and
it’s right if we blame him for it; for he captured his kinsman
while he was a pilgrim, this we know, Raymond the Count’s
son. And I understand that king Fernando will hardly win
merit unless straightway he releases and sets him free.
I would have seen it but I stayed here for this business: I was
at the crowning of the good king of Etampes.
ut. When the leaf falls from the highest twining branches, and the
cold grows sharp by which hazel and osier wither, I hear the
woodland fall silent of sweet birdsong, but I am sprightly with
love, whoever may renounce it.
Tot quant es gela,
Mas ieu non puesc frezir,
Qu’amors novela
Mi fa.l cor reverdir.
Non dei fremir,
Qu’Amors mi cuebr’e.m cela,
E.m fai tenir
Ma valor e.m capdela.
Bona es vida
Pus joia la mante,
Que tals n’escrida
Cui ges no vai tan be;
No sai de re
Coreillar m’escarida,
Que, per ma fe,
Del mielhs ai ma partida.
De drudaria
No.m sai de re blasmar,
Qu’autrui paria
Torn ieu en reirazar;
Ges ab sa par
No sai doblar m’amia,
Qu’una non par
Que seconda no.ill sia.
No vuelh s’asemble
Mos cors ab autr’amor
Si que ja.il m’emble
Ni volva.l cap ailhor;
Non ai paor
Que ja selh de Pontremble
N’aia gensor
De lieis, ni que la semble.
Ges non es croia,

Selha cui soi amis;
De sai Savoia
Plus belha no.s noiris. over
Arnaut Daniel 182
All that is, freezes, but I cannot be cold, for a new love makes
my heart grow green again. I should not shiver, for Love
protects and shields me, and it has me maintain my valour and
it guides me.
Life is good once joy sustains it, so such a one blames it when
things go not so well; I can for no cause quarrel with my lot,
for, by my faith, I have my share of what’s best.
In courtship I know of no cause to complain, and to consort

with any other I deem a backward step; I cannot match my
beloved with her peer, for not one appears but she comes
second to her.
I want not my heart to engage in another love so that it should

take me from her and head elsewhere; nor do I fear that he of
Pontremoli has one more noble than her, or one who even
resembles her.
She is not cruel, the one whose lover I am; this side of Savoy
there’s nurtured none fairer than her.
Tals m’abelis
Don ieu plus ai de joia
Non ac Paris
D’Elena, sel de Troia.
Tant per es genta,

Selha que.m ten joios,
Las gensors trenta
Vens de belhas faisos.
Ben es razos
Doncas que mos chans senta,
Quar es tan pros
E de ric pretz manenta.
‘Vai t’en, chansos,

Denan lieis ti prezenta.’
Que s’ill no fos,
No.i meir’Arnautz s’ententa.
EY6 En cest sonet coind’e leri

Fauc motz, e capuig e doli,
Que serant verai e cert
Qan n’aurai passat la lima;
Q’Amors marves plan’e daura
Mon chantar, que de liei mou
Qui pretz manten e governa.
Tot jorn meillur et esmeri,

Car la gensor serv e coli
El mon—so.us dic en apert.
Sieus sui del pe tro q’en cima,
E, si tot venta.ill freid’aura,
L’amors q’inz el cor mi plou
Mi ten chaut on plus iverna.
Mil messas n’aug e.n proferi,

E.n art lum de cer’e d’oli
Que Dieus m’en don bon issert
De lieis, on no.m val escrima. over
Arnaut Daniel 183
Such a one delights me of whom I have more joy than Paris—

he of Troy—had of Helen.
So very noble is she who keeps me joyous, the thirty most

noble she betters in gracious demean. It is indeed right then
that she should hear my songs, she is so worthy and with rich
merit endowed.
‘Be off, my song, and present yourself to her.’ Were it not

for her, Arnaut would not have put his mind to it.
oT. To this light and graceful little air I fashion words, I carve and
plane them, so they'll be true and sure when I’ve given them
a touch with the file; for Love soon smooths and gilds my song
which is inspired by her who maintains merit and guides it.
Each day I improve and grow more pure, for I serve and
worship the most noble in the world—this I can tell you openly.
Hers I am from head right down to foot, and even if the cold
wind blows, the love that rains within my heart keeps me
warm in deepest winter.
A thousand masses I hear and offer for it, and for it I burn
lights of wax and of oil, so that thereby God grant me success
with her where no striving avails me.
E, gan remir sa crin saura
El cors q’es grailet e nou,
Mais l’am que qi.m des Luserna.
Tant l’am de cor e la queri

C’ab trop voler cug la.m toli—
S’om ren per ben amar pert!
Q’el sieus cors sobre-tracima
Lo mieu tot, e non s’eisaura;
Tant a de ver fait renou
C’obrador n’a e taverna.
No vuoill de Roma I’emperi,

Ni c’om m’en fass’apostoli,
Q’en lieis non aia revert
Per cui m/art lo cors e.m rima;
E si.l maltraich no.m restaura
Ab un baisar, anz d’annou,
Mi aucie si enferna.
Ges pel maltraich q’ieu soferi

De ben amar no.m destoli,
Si tot me ten en desert,
C’aissi.n fatz los motz en rima:
Pieitz trac aman c’om que laura,
C’anc plus non amet un ou
Cel de Moncli N’Audierna.
oe
Jeu sui Arnautz, q’amas I’aura,

E chatz la lebre ab lo bou,
E nadi contra suberna.
Arnaut Daniel SO)
And, when I gaze on her golden hair and her person which is
slender and fresh, I love her more than whoever gave me
Luserna.
I love her nobly and long for her so much that, through great
desire, I fear that I’ll rob myself of her — if one can lose
something through loving well! For her heart floods full into
mine entirely, and it does not subside; she has in truth practised
usury so much that she owns by it worker and workshop.
I’d not have the empire of Rome, nor be made pope of it, if
thereby I might not return to her for whom my heart burns and
crackles; and if she soothes not my suffering with a kiss before
the year’s out, she slays me and damns herself.
Scarce for the suffering that I endure do I renounce fine

loving, even though it keeps me in solitude, and thus these
words thereof I set to rime: I suffer more, a lover, than one
who toils at the plough, and never a whit did he of Monclin love
more the Lady Audierna.
I am Arnaut, who gathers the wind, and hunts the hare on ox-
back, and swims against the rising tide.
IV. Sols sui qui sai lo sobr’afan ge.m sortz
Al cor, d’amor sofren per sobr’amar,
Car mos volers es tant ferms et entiers
C’anc no s’esduis de celliei ni s’estors
Cui encubic al prim vezer e puois.
C’ades ses lieis dic a lieis cochos motz;
Puois, gan la vei, non sai—tant l’ai —que dire.
D’autras vezer sui secs, e d’auzir sortz,

Q’en sola lieis vei et aug et esgar;
E ges d’aisso no.ill sui fals plazentiers,
Que mais la vol non ditz la boca.l cors.
Q’ieu no vau tant chams, vauz ni plans ni puois,
Q’en un sol cors trob aissi bos aips totz,
Q’en lieis los vole Dieus triar et assire.
Ben ai estat a maintas bonas cortz,

Mas sai ab lieis trob pro mais que lauzar:
Mesur’e sen et autres bos mestiers,
Beutat, joven, bos faitz e bels demors.
Gen lenseignet Cortesi’e la duois.
Tant a de si totz faitz desplazens rotz;
De lieis no cre rens de ben si’a dire.
Nuills gauzimens no.m fora breus ni cortz

De lieis, cui prec q’o vuoilla devinar—
Que ja per mi non o sabra estiers,
Si.l cors ses digz no.s presenta de fors.
Que ges Rozers, per aiga ge l’engrois,
Non a tal briu c’al cor plus larga dotz
No.m fass’estanc d’amor, gan la remire.
Jois e solatz d’autra.m par fals e bortz,

C’una de pretz ab lieis no.is pot esgar,
Qe.l sieus solatz es dels autres sobriers.
Hai! si no l’ai; las, tant mal m’a comors!
Pero l’afans m’es deportz, ris e jois,
Car en pensan sui de lieis lecs e glotz.
Hai Dieus! si ja.n serai estiers gauzire ? over
Arnaut Daniel 187
I am the only one who knows the over-anguish which wells in

my heart, suffering of love through over-loving, for my desire
is so steadfast and entire that it never turned nor cut loose
from her whom I longed for at first sight and ever after. And
ever, far from her, I say to her burning words; then, when I
see her, I know not what—I’ve so much—to say.
To see other women I am blind, and to hear them, deaf, since

by her alone do I see and hear and watch; and in that I am no
false flatterer to her, for my heart wants her more than my
lips declare. And for all that I travel through so many fields,
valleys and plains and hills, I find not thus in one person alone
all such qualities, for in her God chose to display and establish
them fast.
I have indeed been at many fine courts, but here with her I find
much more to praise: moderation and sense and other virtues,
beauty and youth, fine actions and pastimes fair. Nobly did
Courtliness teach and inform her, so far from herself has she
banished all unpleasing actions; in her I think that nothing
good is lacking.
No pleasure would be brief or short for me, coming from her

whom I pray to be pleased to devine it—for she would learn it
from me in no other way, unless my heart without words
showed itself forth. Even the Rhone, whatever the waters
which swell it, flows not so strongly but that, in my heart, a
broader stream spreads in a pool of love, when I gaze upon
her. ;
Joy and solace from any other appear to me false and abortive,
for no woman can match her in merit, and her solace is supreme
above others. Ah, if I have it not; alas, she has so cruelly caught
me! Yet the anguish is to me pleasure, smiles and joy, since in
thought I am for her greedy and avid. Ah God! will I ever, in
some other way, have her joy?
Anc mais, so.us pliu, no.m plac tant treps ni bortz,
Ni res al cor tant de joi no.m poc dar,
Cum fetz aquel, don anc feinz lausengiers
No s’esbrugic, q’a mi sol so.s tresors.
Dic trop ? Eu non, sol lieis non si’enois;
Bella, per Dieu, lo parlar e la votz
Vuoill perdr’enans que diga ren qe.us tire.
Ma chanssos prec que no.us sia enois,

Car si voletz grazir lo son e.ls motz,
Pauc prez’Arnautz cui que plass’o que tire.
Lo ferm voler qu’el cor m’intra

No.m pot ges becs escoisendre ni ongla
De lauzengier, si tot per mal dir s’arma;
E quar no l’aus batr’ab ram ni ab vergua,
Sivals a frau, lai on non aurai oncle,
Jauzirai joi, en vergier o dinz cambra.
Quan mi soven de la cambra

On, al mieu dan, sai que nuils hom non intra,
Ans mi son tug plus que fraire ni oncle,
Non ai membre no.m fremisca, ni ongla,
Plus que non fai l’enfas denant la vergua;
Tal pdor ai que.ill sia trop de m’arma.
Del cors li fos, non de l’arma!

E cossentis m’a celat dinz sa cambra!
Que plus me nafra.] cor que colps de vergua,
Quar lo sieus sers, lai on ill es, non intra;
De lieis serai aisi com carns ez ongla,
E non creirai castic d’amic ni d’oncle.
Anc la seror de mon oncle

Non amei tan ni plus, per aquest’arma!
Que tan vezis com es lo detz de l’ongla,
S’a lieis plagues, volgr’esser de sa cambra;
De mi pot far l’amors qu’ins el cor m’intra
Mieils a son vol c’om fortz de frevol vergua. over
Arnaut Daniel 189
Never, I pledge you, did any game or sport please me as

much, nor could anything give my heart as much joy, as this one
did, and no false tale-teller ever revealed it, for to me alone is it
a treasure. Do I say too much? Not I, as long as it’s no annoy-
ance to her; fair one, by God, I’d sooner lose speech and voice
than say anything which might vex you.
I pray that my song be no annoyance to you, for if you are

willing to welcome the air and the words, Arnaut cares little
who else it might please or vex.
The firm desire which in my heart enters cannot be torn from

me by tale-teller’s beak or nail—albeit he arms himself to
speak evilly; and since I dare not beat him with branch or rod,
then at least by stealth, there where I'll have no (guardian)
uncle, will I enjoy (love’s) joy, in bower or bedroom.
When I recall the bedroom where, to my cost, I know no man

enters—rather they are all more (hostile) to me than (her)
brother or uncle—I’ve no limb but that trembles—nor finger-
nail—more than a child does at the sight of the rod; I’m so
afraid that I’m hers too much in soul.
Would I were hers in body, not in soul! and that she let me,
secretly, into her bedroom! For it wounds my heart more
than any blow of a’ rod, that her servant, there where she is,
does not enter. Always I’ll be with her as flesh and fingernail,
and I’ll not heed the warning of friend or uncle.
I never loved my uncle’s sister as much, nor more, by this my

soul! For as near as is the finger to its nail, ifitso pleased her,
I’d like to be to her bedroom. The love which in my heart
enters can wreak on me better its will than can a strong man on
a slender rod.
Pois floris la seca vergua,
Ni d’En Adam foron nebot ni oncle,
Tan fin’amors com cela qu’el cor m’intra
Non cuig qu’anc fos en cors, ni eis en arma;
On quill estei, fors en plan o dinz cambra,
Mos cors de lieis no.s part, tan com ten I’ongla.
C’aisi s’enpren e s’enongla

Mos cors en lieis com l’escors’en la vergua;
Quill m’es de joi tors e palais e cambra,
Ez am la mais no fas cozin ni oncle.
Qu’en paradis n’aura doble joi m’arma,
Si ja nuils hom per ben amar lai intra.
Arnautz tramet son chantar d’ongl’e d’oncle.

Ab grat de lieis que de sa vergua l’arma,
Son Dezirat, c’ab pretz en cambra intra.
Arnaut Daniel 191
Since there burst into flower the withered rod and from Sir
Adam there came nephew and uncle, such pure love as that
which in my heart enters I think there never was in body, nor
yet in soul. Wherever she be, out in the open or within bed-
room, my heart quits her not by so much as the width of a nail.
For thus my heart cleaves and clings with its nail to her, as
(close as) the bark to the rod; for she is to me joy’s tower and
palace and bedroom, and I love her more than I do cousin or
uncle. Hence in Paradise will my soul have twofold joy, if ever
a man through fine loving therein enters.
Arnaut sends his song of fingernail and uncle, for the pleasure
of her who arms him with her rod, to his Desired One, who
with merit in bedroom enters.
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Peire Vidal
LiFe. Born a furrier’s son in Toulouse, Peire Vidal began his

poetic career in the early 1180s, at the court of the local count,
Raymond v. From here, after some disagreement with his
patron, he extended his activities into Provence, where he
secured the protection of Barral, Viscount of Marseilles, and
into northern Spain, enjoying here the favour of Alfonso 11,
king of Aragon. The early 1190°s, however, marked by the
deaths of Raymond (1192), Barral (1194), and Alfonso (1196),
must have been for him, as for many troubadours, a difficult
period; the disappearance of these three most eminent patrons
of their art obliged many to seek favour further afield, and it
is to this period that belong Peire Vidal’s extensive excursions
into northern Italy, attracted, as others, by the brilliant court
of Boniface, Marquis of Montferrat. But as in Provence,
Languedoc and Spain, he also did the rounds of the minor
courts of Lombardy and Piedmont; as he himself once
declared, to stay long in one place was for him like being ill.
Already in the later 1180s he had gone on a pilgrimage to the
Holy Land—under pressure from Raymond v, he himself
suggests —and in r198 he goes to offer his services to the king
of Hungary. Early in the new century—c. 1204—we find him
in Malta, celebrating the exploits of Count Henry, admiral of
the Genoese fleet. After Malta, however, all trace of the poet
is lost. Even his mediaeval biographer, so rich in other detail,
has nothing to say of how Peire Vidal met his death, a silence
which in itself suggests that it was sudden and obscure.
works. Of the forty-five poems attributed to Peire Vidal, all
but for two éensons are either cansos or sirventés-cansos—a pre-
cise classification is in most cases difficult to make since few of
the love songs fail to make some reference to contemporary
events and persons, while many of what otherwise could be
termed szrventés devote at least a stanza or two to the themes
of courtly love. A more intricate mingling than ever of court
poetry with courtly lyric is thus achieved by this poet who
constantly alternates the réle of public spokesman with that of
impassioned lover. It is indeed in this varied but sustained self-
representation that Peire Vidal’s originality lies. Few of his
lyrics show that preoccupation with formal refinement so
characteristic of his immediate predecessors, but the thematic
material by which he creates his own dramatic persona is
marked by a striking degree of inventive ingenuity. Two
devices in particular are exploited; they could be termed the
territorial and the self-descriptive motifs, and their combined
effect is to endow established themes with a more immediate
and more realistic setting than had ever before been dared.
Though many troubadours had given hints of their real where-
abouts, none had so studded his songs with so many precise
local references as Peire Vidal, who mingles inextricably the
details of his real professional tours with the imaginary details
of his heart’s adventures. And though imaginative self-
revelation underlies the structure of every canso, no troubadour
so exploited its possibilities, so transformed it to self-portrayal
and further yet, on occasion, to self-caricature. Strangely
enough, although his success was undoubtedly due to such
thematic invention, no later troubadour followed his example.
Perhaps it seemed too radical a modification of long-established
themes; perhaps the onset of the Albigensian Crusade in 1209,
with its disastrous repercussions on court life in the Midi, put
an end to all such innovation—a tradition, once threatened,
tends to close in on itself. In all events, for all the easy grace
and lively humour of his work, for all his picturesque and
engaging originality, Peire Vidal stands alone.
EDITION. D. S. Avalle Peire Vidal, Poesie, (2 Vols., Milan
1960).
SELECTION. The first selected piece (Avalle no. 20), in
courtly fiction a eulogy of the lover’s lady, is in effect a justly
celebrated song in praise of Provence, well illustrating how the
‘territorial’ mozif adds new interest, and new functions, to a
conventional form. The second piece (Avalle no. 24) is a
characteristic sirventés-canso, dating probably from the mid-
1180s; after an elegant re-working of conventional material,
and a professional nod to his new patron Barral, Viscount of
Marseilles, the poet launches into one of his most favoured
Peire Vidal 195
self-descriptive devices, the gab or absurdly enormous boast,

adapted no doubt from contemporary epic literature. Next a
canso (Avalle no. 10), written at the ‘imperial’ court of Castile
—it was Alfonso of Castile’s father who had assumed the title
of Emperor of Spain —and dating from a little before 1187, the
year in which the Bretons’ wait for the return of their legendary
hero was—at least temporarily—suspended with the birth of
Arthur of Brittany. The territorial and the self-descriptive
motifs, operating on both the literal and imaginative planes, are
here subtly inter-woven with an authentic biographical
reference if, as has been suspected, the narrative content is
indeed a poetic rendering of Vidal’s quarrel with the Count of
Toulouse. More obviously concerned with public affairs are
the two following poems (Avalle nos. 6, 12). The first dates
from 1193-1194: Philip of France had slipped away from the
third Crusade (1191); Richard Coeur-de-Lion, returning from
the Holy Land, was being held prisoner by the German
Emperor (1193-1194); the kings of Aragon, Castile, Leon and
Navarre were still warring among themselves rather than
unite against the Moors while, through the failings of Pope
Celestine and his advisers, the Manichean heresy was spread-
ing throughout the Midi. The second poem opens, nonetheless,
on a note of renewed enthusiasm for the crusading ideal; in
1201, the Marquis of Montferrat had been named leader of a
new Crusade and, at the time of celebrating this, the poet
could scarcely have suspected how the conventional moral
strictures of his third and fourth stanzas anticipate so well, for
us, the perversion of that same Crusade. We note again the
nod of respect made to the Spanish kings—though Pedro of
Aragon clearly inspires the poet with less enthusiasm than his
father Alfonso—and again the scathing reference to Philip of
France, the ‘reis aunitz’ who had lost the Crusader’s glory won
by his father. The final poem (Avalle no. 19) is one of Peire
Vidal’s most successful love-songs, coherent, elegant, unified;
if the fulsome praises bestowed on the Marquis of Montferrat
detract, for some, from its effect, it is to be remembered that
even the most tragic of players, swooning to death on the
stage, must still rise to bow and beam gratefully to his public.
Ab lalen tir vas me laire
Quwieu sen venir de Préensa;
Tot quant es de lai m’agensa,
Si que, quan n’aug ben retraire,
Ieu m’o escout en rizen,
E.n deman per un mot cen,
Tan m’es bel quan n’aug ben dire.
Qu’om no sap tan dous repaire

Cum de Rozer tro c’a Vensa,
Si cum clau mars e Durensa,
Ni on tant fins jois s’esclaire.
Per qu’entre la franca gen
Ai laissat mon cor jauzen,
Ab lieis que fa.ls iratz rire.
Qu’om no pot lo jorn mal traire

Qu’aja de lieis sovinensa,
Qu’en liei nais jois e comensa.
E qui qu’en sia lauzaire,
De ben qu’en diga, no.i men;
Que.! mielher es, ses conten,
E.1 genser qu’el mon se mire.
E s’ieu sai ren dir ni faire,

Ih n’aia.] grat, que sciensa
M’a donat e conoissensa
Per qu’ieu sui gais e chantaire.
E tot quan fauc d’avinen
Ai del sieu bell cors plazen,
Neis quan de bon cor consire.
Peire Vidal 197
As I breathe I draw in the air I feel come from Provence; all
that is from there so delights me that, when I hear good of it
spoken, I listen smiling to it and ask, for one word, a hundred,
it’s so pleasant to me when I hear good said of it.
For one knows of no land so sweet as that between the Rhéne

and Vence and bound by the sea and the Durance, nor where
such pure joy shines bright. Hence among that noble people
I have left my joyful heart, with her who makes the downcast
laugh.
And one cannot be unhappy the day one brings her to mind,
since in her joy is born and has its beginning. No matter who
sings her praises, in the good he says of her he lies not, for she
is the best, there’s no denying, and the most noble to be seen in
the world.
And if I am able to say or to do anything, to her be the thanks,

for she has given me knowledge and experience whereby I am
merry and singing. All that I do pleasantly is inspired by her
fair, delightful person, even all that I nobly think of.
iM Baron, de mon dan covit
Fals lauzengiers deslials,
Qu’en tal domna ai chauzit
Ont es fis pretz naturals.
Et ieu am la de cor e ses bauzia,
E sui totz sieus, quora qu’ilh sia mia.
Qu’a sa beutat e sa valor pareis
Qu’en lieis amar honratz fora us reis;
Per que.m tieng ric, sol que.m deinh dire d’oc.
Anc res tan no m’abellit

Cum sos adreitz cors lials,
On son tug bon aip complit
E totz bes, senes totz mals.
E pus tot a quan tainh a drudaria,
Ben sui astrucs, sol que mos cors lai sia;
E si merces, per que totz bos aips creis,
Mi val ab lieis, be.us puesc dir ses totz neis,
Qu’anc ab amor tant ajudar no.m poc.
Chant e solatz vei fallit,

Cortz e dons e bos ostals;
E domnei no vei grazit—
Si.lh domn’e.! drutz non es fals.
Aquel n’a mai que plus soven galia,
No.n dirai plus mas cum si vuelha sia.
Mas peza me quar ades non esteis
Lo premiers fals que comenset anceis;
E fora dreitz, qu’avol eixample moc.
Mon cor sent alegrezit

Quar me cobrara’N Barrals.
Ben aja selh que.m noirit,
E Dieus, quar ieu sui aitals!
Que mil salut mi venon cascun dia
De Cataluenha e de Lombardia,
Quar a totz jorns pueja mos pretz e creis
Que per un pauc no mor d’enveja.! reis,
Quar ab donas fas mon trep e mon joc. over
Peire Vidal 199
ag Barons, I defy false, faithless slanderers to harm me, for my

choice has fallen on such a one in whom there is noble and
natural merit; and I love her truly and without deceit, and am
wholly hers no matter when she be mine. Since by her beauty
and worth it is clear that, in loving her, a king would be
honoured, I therefore deem myself rich, if only she deigned to
say ‘yes’ to me.
Never did anything so delight me as her true and loyal person,

in whom are all qualities complete and all good, without any
defects. And since she has all that pertains to loving, I am most
fortunate, if only I were there with her; and if pity, through
which every quality increases, is of help to me with her, then
I can indeed say to you, without any reserve, that it could
never have helped me so much in love before.
Song and solace I see neglected, court-gatherings and gifts

and fine hospitality; and love-service I see not favoured,
unless the lady and lover are false. He gains most from it who
most often betrays; I'll say no more of it but be it as it will. Yet
it grieves me that he didn’t perish at once, the first knave who
started it all; and it would have been right, for he set a wicked
example.
I feel my heart full of happiness, for Lord Barral will again

have me with him. Fortune favour him who raised me, and
God, that I am such as I am! For a thousand love-letters
come to me each day from Catalonia and Lombardy, and
every day my merit grows and increases, so that the king is
almost dying of envy, and with the ladies I dance and play as I
will.
Ben es proat et auzit
Cum ieu sui pros e cabals;
E pus Dieus m’a enriquit,
No.s tanh qu’ieu sia venals.
Cent domnas sai que cascuna.m volria
Tener ab se, si aver me podia—
Mas ieu sui selh qu’anc no.m gabei ni.m feis,
Ni volgui trop parlar de mi meteis;
Mas domnas bais e cavaliers desroc.
Mainht bon tornei ai partit

Pels colps qu’ieu fier tan mortals,
Qu’en luec non vau qu’om no crit:
“So es En Peire Vidals,
Selh qui manten domnei e drudaria,
E fa que pros per amor de s’amia;
Et ama mais batalhas e torneis
Que monje patz, e sembla.| malaveis
Trop sojornar et estar en un loc.’
Plus que non pot ses aigua viure.1 peis,

Non pot esser ses lauzengiers domneis,
Per qu’amador compron trop car lur joc.
IIT. Mout es bona terr’Espanha,

E.] rei qui senhor en so =
Dous e car e franc e bo,
E de corteza companha;
E sia d'autres baros,
Mout avinens e mout pros,
De sen e de conoissensa,
E de faitz e de parvensa. over
Peire Vidal 201
It’s well-proven and commonly known how worthy and out-

standing I am; and since God has so well endowed me, it’s not
right that my price be low. A hundred ladies I know who each
would like to have me for hers, if she could—but I’ve never
been one to boast or make pretences, and I never wanted to
talk much about myself; instead I kiss ladies and unhorse
knights.
Many a fine tourney have I decided with the blows I deal so

deadly, so that in no place I go but they all shout: ‘Here’s my
lord Peire Vidal, the man who upholds courtship and fine lov-
ing, and acts with prowess for his lady’s love, and likes battles
and tourneys more than a monk likes peace, and for whom it’s
like a sickness to dwell and stay long in one place.’
No more than the fish can live without water, love-service

cannot be without slanderers, hence lovers pay dearly for
their joy.
LIT, Most fine is the land of Spain, and the kings, who are its lords,
gentle and dear, noble and good, and of courtly company.
And there are other noblemen there too, most seemly and
most worthy in sense and experience, in deeds and in outward
show.
Per que.m platz qu’entr’els remanha
En l’emperial reyo,
Quar ses tota contenso
Mi rete gent e.m gazanha
Reis emperaires N’Anfos,
Per cui Jovens es joyos,
Quez el mon non a valensa
Que sa valors no la vensa.
Fach ai l’obra de l’aranha

E la muza del Breto,
Per qu’ieu mezeis no sai co
M’en rancur ni m’en complanha;
Que.! ver dir m’es angoissos
E.] mentir no m’es nuls pros;
Daus totas partz truep falhensa
En la sua benvolensa.
Mout m’a tengut en greu lanha,

Quar l’ai servid’en perdo;
E servirs ses gazardo —
Crei que chaptals en sofranha!
Que vielhs, paubres, sofrachos,
Venc entre.ls rics, vergonhos;
Per qu’om deu sercar garensa
Ans que torn en decazensa.
E pus ma dona m’estranha “a

De so que no.] platz que.m do —
S’amor, tart veirai Orgo
Ni.l rial castell d’Albanha.
E ja tan pauc orgulhos
Amic, ni tan amoros,
Non auran mais part Durensa,
En la terra de Provensa.
Peire Vidal 203
For this I am pleased to stay among them in the imperial realm,

for without any ado he retains me graciously and wins me
over, the king-emperor Lord Alfonso for whom Youth is joyful,
and in the world there’s nothing valorous but his valour
overwhelms it.
I have toiled like the spider and waited long like the Breton,
yet thereof I know not myself how I might complain, nor how
I might lament; for to speak the truth is painful to me, and
lying profits me not. On all sides I find failings in my lady’s
goodwill.
She has held me in most grievous affliction, and so I have

served her to my loss, and service without reward—I think
there’s no benefit in that! And so, old, poor, and needy, I came
among the rich, and full of shame, for one has to seek protec-
tion sooner than come to ruin.
And since my lady deprives me of that which she’s pleased

not to give me—her love, I’ll not see Orgon soon, nor
Aubagne’s royal castle; and they’ll never more have so humble
a friend, nor one so full of love, there by the Durance in the
land of Provence.
Uy. A per pauc de chantar no.m lais,
Quar vei mort Jovent e Valor,
E Pretz, que non trob’on s’apais,
C’usquecs l’enpeinh e.] gieta por;
E vei tant renhar malvestat—
Que.| segl’a vencut e sobrat—
Si qu’apenas truep nulh paes
Que.| cap non aj’a son latz pres.
Ar, com an vout en tal pantais

L’Apostolis e.lh fals doctor
Sancta Gleiza, don Dieus s’irais!
Que tan son fol e peccador
Per que l’eretge son levat;
E quar ilh commenso.] peccat,
Greu es qui als far en pogues—
Mas ieu no.n vuelh esser plaies.
E mou de Fransa totz l’esglais,

D’els qui solon esser melhor,
Que.] reis non es fis ni verais
Vas Pretz ni vas Nostre Senhor;
Que.! Sepulcr’a dezamparat,
E compr’e vent e fai mercat
Atressi cum sers 0 borzes;
Per que son aunit siei Franses.
Totz lo mons torn’en tal biais =~

Quier lo vim mal et huei peior;
Et anc, pus lo guit de Dieu frais,
Non auzim pueis l’Emperedor
Creisser de pretz ni de bontat.
Mas pero s’ueimais laiss’en fat
Richart, pus en sa preizon es,
Lor esquern en faran Engles. over
Peire Vidal 205
IV. For a little I’'d give up singing because I see Youth and Valour
dead, and Merit too which finds nowhere to pasture for each
one repels and rejects it; and I see wickedness so hold sway—
it has conquered and overcome the world—that I scarcely
find any country which has not its head caught in its snare.
Now, how the Pope and the false doctors have cast Holy
Church in such confusion that God Himself is grieved! It’s
because they’re so foolish and sinful that the heretics have
sprung up; and since they’re the first to sin, it’s hard for one to
do anything else—but I don’t want to be their advocate.
And all the trouble comes from France, from those who used
to be the best, for the king is neither noble nor true to Merit,
nor to Our Lord; and he’s quit the Sepulchre, and he buys and
sells and haggles just like a peasant or townsman, whereby his
Frenchmen are put to shame.
All the world’s coming to such a pass that yesterday we saw it

bad and, today, worse; and ever since he broke God’s com-
mand, we hear not of the Emperor increasing in merit or
virtue. And yet if henceforth he leaves Richard to his fate, now
that he’s in his prison, the English will vent their scorn on him.
Dels reis d’Espanha.m tenh a fais
Quar tant volon guerra mest lor;
E quar destriers ferrans ni bais
Trameton als Mors, per pdor,
Que lor erguelh lor an doblat,
Don ilh son vencut e sobrat.
E fora miels, s’a lor plagues,
Qu’entr’els fos patz e leis e fes.
Mas ja non cug hom qu’ieu m’abais

Pels rics, si.s tornon sordeyor,
Qu’us fis jois me capdell’e.m pais,
Qui.m te jauzent en gran doussor,
E.m sojorn’en fin’amistat
De lieis que plus mi ven a grat.
E si voletz saber quals es,
Demandatz la en Carcasses.
Et anc no galiet ni trais

Son amic, ni.s pauzet color—
Ni.l cal, quar selha qu’en leis nais
Es fresca cum roz’en Pascor.
Bell’es sobre tota beutat,
Et a sen ab joven mesclat,
Per que.s n’agrado.] plus cortes,
E.n dizon laus ab honratz bes.
Baron! Jhesus, qu’en crotz fon mes

Per salvar crestiana gen,
Nos mand’a totz comunalmen
Qu’anem cobrar lo saint pdes
On venc per nostr’amor morir.
E si no.l volem obezir,
Lai on feniran tuit li plag
N’auzirem maint esquiu retrag.
Peire Vidal 207
As for the kings of Spain, I deem it grievous that they so much

want war among themselves; and because they send to the
Moors fine chargers, bay and grey, out of fear, they’ve there-
fore doubled for them their pride whereby they themselves
are conquered and overcome. And it would be better, if it
pleased them, that among them there should be peace, and
justice, and faith.
But let no man ever think that I’m abased because of the great
ones, though they become more vile; for a noble joy guides
and sustains me, which holds me, rejoicing, in great sweetness,
and has me dwell in noble love of her who is most pleasing to
me. And if you would know who she is, ask for her in the
Carcassonne country.
She never deceived or betrayed her lover, nor put on false

colouring—she has no need to, for the one with which she
was born is as fresh as a rose at Easter. Lovely is she above all
loveliness, and she has sense mingled with youth, wherefore
the most courtly delight in her and speak, in her praise, of her
honoured good.
Barons! Jesus, who was put on the cross to save all christian
people, summons us all in common to go and recover that holy
land where He came for our love to die. And if we would not
obey Him, then there where all disputes will end shall we hear
for it many a bitter reproach.
Que.| saint paradis que.ns promes,
On non a pena ni tormen,
Vol ara liurar francamen
A sels qu’iran ab lo Marques
Outra la mar, per Dieu servir.
E cill qui no.] volran seguir,
No.i aura negun, brun ni bag,
Que no.n puesc’aver gran esglag.
Ar veiatz del segle quals es:

Que qui.l sec plus al pieitz s’en pren.
Pero no.i a mas un bon sen:
Qu’om lais los mals e prenda.ls bes;
Que pus la mortz vol assalhir,
Negus non pot ni sap gandir.
Doncs, pus tuit morem atrazag,
Ben es fols qui viu mal ni lag.
Tot lo segle vei sobrepres

D’enjan e de galiamen;
E son ja tan li mescrezen
C’apenas renha dreigz ni fes,
Que quasqus ponha en trair
Son amic per si enriquir.
Pero.lh trachor son aissi trag
Cum selh qui beu tueissec ab lag.
Catalan et Aragones .
An senhor honrat e valen,
E larc e franc e conoissen,
Humil et adreg e cortes.
Mas trop laissa enmanentir
Sos sers—cui Dieus bais e azir!—
Qu’a totz jorns estan en agag
Per far en cort dan et empag. over
Peire Vidal 209
For the holy paradise which He promised us, where there’s

neither pain nor torment, He’s willing now to give freely to
those who'll go with the Marquis overseas to serve God. And
of those who'll not want to follow him, there’ll not be one,
dark or fair, but that can be sure to have great dismay.
Now see what the world is: who follows its ways the most
undertakes the worst of all. Still there is but one good way: let
aman quit evils and take up good works; for once death is ready
to attack, no one can or knows how to escape. And so, since
we all shall surely die, he’s indeed a fool who lives badly or
basely.
I see the whole world in the grip of guile and treachery; and
so many are the unbelievers that right and good faith scarce
hold sway, for each one is eager to betray his friend so as to
enrich himself. Yet the betrayers are as much betrayed as he
who drinks poison with milk.
Catalans and Aragonese have an honoured and valiant lord,

generous and noble and wise, modest and upright and courtly.
But he allows his servants to grow too rich—may God strike
down and vex them!—and they’re always on the watch to
stir up trouble and strife at court.
Reis aunitz val meins que pages
Quan viu a lei de recrezen,
E plora.ls bes qu’autre despen,
E pert so que.| paire conques.
Aitals reis fari’ad aucir,
Et en lach lueg a sebelhir,
Qui.s defen a lei de contrag,
E no pren ni dona gamag.
Domnas vielhas non am ieu ges,

Quan viven descauzidamen
Contr’Amor e contra Joven;
Quar fin paratg’an si mal mes,
Fer es de comtar e de dir,
E fer d’escotar e d’auzir;
Quar franc domnei an si tot frag
Qu’entre lor no.n trob’om escag.
Dona, si.m tenetz en defes

Que d’al re non ai pessamen
Mas de far vostre mandamen;
E s’en grat servir vos pogues
Entre.] despulhar e.| vestir,
Ja mais mals no.m pogra venir,
Quar vostre dig e vostre fag
M’an sabor de roza de mag.
Reis de Leon, senes mentir, .

Devetz honrat pretz reculhir,
Cum selh qui semen’en garag
Temprat d’umor ab douz complag.
Peire Vidal 211
A king put to shame is worth less than a peasant, when he

lives like a recreant and deplores the wealth which another
spends, and loses that which the father won. Such a king
deserves to be slain and buried in a loathsome place, who
stands up for himself like a paralytic, neither taking nor dealing
a blow.
I’ve no liking for old noblewomen, when they live gracelessly,

hostile to Love and to Youth, for they’ve so neglected true
nobility it’s hard to tell and recount, and hard to hear of and
listen to; they’ve so utterly destroyed fine courtship that among
them one finds no trace of it.
My lady, you so hold me in subjection that I have no thought

of anything else but of doing your bidding; and if I could serve
you to your pleasure between the time of undressing and dress-
ing, then no ill could befall me, for your words and your deeds
have for me the fragrance of the rose of May.
King of Leon, without a lie, you should reap honoured merit,

as one who sows in a meadow watered with sweet pleasure.
VI. Per mielhs sofrir lo maltrait e l’afan
Que’m don’Amors don ieu no.m puesc defendre,
Farai chanso tal qu’er leus per aprendre,
De motz cortes et ab avinen chan.
E fas esfors, quar n’ai cor ni talan
De far chanso, qu’ades planh e sospire
Quar no vei lei don mos cors non s’azire.
Quar tant m’es luenh la terr’e.] dous pais
On es selha vas cui ieu sui aclis,
Per qu’ai perdut joi e solatz e rire.
A lieis m’autrei ab ferm cor ses enjan,

Quar totz sui sieus, ses donar e ses vendre;
E vuelh trop mais en bon esper atendre
Lieis cui soplei, don jois me vai tarzan,
Que d’autr’aver bel fait e bel semblan.
Qu’inz en mon cor m’a fait Amors escrire
Sa gran beutat don res non es a dire,
E son gent cors ben fait e ben assis;
Per quieu li sui hom francs, fizels e fis,
E, per s’amor, a las autras servire.
Dieus, quan veirai lo jorn ni.] mes ni l’an

Qu’elha.m vuelha del mal gazardon rendre!
Qwiieu non l’aus dir— mielhs m’auzaria pendre—
Mon coratge, quant ieu li sui denan.
Mas assatz pot conoisser mon talan,
Quilh es la res el mon qu’ieu plus dezire,
E per s’amor suefri tan greu martire
Que la dolors m’a ja del tot conquis,
E.] deziriers, que m’aura tost aucis;
Et a.n gran tort, mas ieu no.lh o aus dire. over
Petre Vidal 213
VI. So as better to endure the pain and the anguish inflicted on me

by Love, against whom I cannot defend myself, I’ll compose a
song such as will be easy to learn, with courtly words and
pleasant melody. And I’m forcing myself since I’ve neither
heart nor mind to compose, for always I lament and sigh
because I see her not with whom my heart cannot be vexed.
Because I’m so far from the land and the sweet country where
she is to whom I am subject, I’ve therefore lost joy and solace
and laughter.
To her I yield myself with sure and guileless heart, for I am

wholly hers—there’s no giving or selling; and I would much
rather wait in good hope for her whom I entreat, though joy
thereby comes tardily to me, than have from another fair deed
or show of favour. For in my heart Love has had me inscribe
her great beauty, from which there’s nothing lacking, and her
graceful person, well-fashioned and formed; hence I am her
liege man, frank, faithful, and true, and, for her love, servant
to all other ladies.
God, when shall I see the day, the month, the year when she
will repay me for my pains! For I dare not reveal to her my
heart—I’d sooner dare hang myself—when I am in her
presence. But she can know well enough my mind, for she is
the thing in the world I most desire, and for her love I suffer
such grievous torment that the pain has already quite over-
whelmed me, and the desire, it soon will have slain me. She
does wrong in this, but I dare not tell her so.
E si merces ab lieis mi valgues tan
Qu’ela.m volgues lo sieu bell bratz estendre,
Ja del tirar no.m feira escoissendre
De tost venir, humilmen merceyan,
Vas lieis que m’a trastot en son coman;
Que.m pot donar joi o del tot aucire,
Que non ai ges poder qu’alhors me vire.
E si.l plagues que pres de si m/’aizis,
Be.m tenc per sieu, mas mielhs m’agra conquis,
E feira.m ric e de gran joi jauzire.
Al pro Marques qu’a pretz, e valor gran

Manten, e sap gen donar e despendre,
E sos rics pretz fai los autres dissendre,
Vas Monferrat, chansoneta, te man;
Que.] sieu ric fait son dels autres trian,
E per melhor lo pot hom ben eslire,
Qu’el es la flors de totz, a cui que tire,
E de totz bes comensamens e fis.
E s’aissi fos cum ieu vuelh ni devis,
Corona d’aur li vir’el cap assire.
Peire Vidal 215
And if mercy availed me with her this much, that she would hold
out her lovely arms towards me, I’d scarcely need to be pain-
fully dragged, but would come swiftly, humbly praying for
mercy, to her who has me entirely at her command; for she
can give me joy or utterly slay me, and I have no power at all
to turn elsewhere. And if it pleased her to lodge me by her side,
though I deem myself hers, she would have better won me, and
would make me rich and in enjoyment of great joy.
To the worthy Marquis who has merit, who maintains great

worth, and knows how to give and spend graciously, and
whose great merit lowers that of all others, to Montferrat, my
little song, I send you; for his great deeds stand out from all
others, and one can indeed elect him as the best, for he is the
flower of all men, no matter whom that offends, and of all good
the beginning and the end. And if things were as I wish and
foretell, I’d see a crown of gold set on his head.
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eAimeric dePeguilhan
LiFe. Péguilhan is a small village in the Haute-Garonne, but it

seems that Aimeric himself was born in Toulouse, where his
father was a merchant of some standing. It was at the court of
Count Raymond vi of Toulouse that, towards the end of the
twelfth century, Aimeric made his professional début, but
already before 1200 he had set out for Spain where for some
ten years or so he was to cultivate the patronage of the kings
of Castile and Aragon. The major part of his career, however,
was spent in northern Italy which, with its numerous, flourish-
ing, and culturally ambitious courts, was in the early thirteenth
century becoming the favourite haunt of many troubadours.
After a brief call at the court of Montferrat, Aimeric moved on
to Ferrara and Malaspina, and it was under the protection of
these two marquisates that he spent, throughout the second
decade of the thirteenth century, the richest, most productive,
and no doubt the most comfortable years of his career. It was
above all to the Marquis William Malaspina that Aimeric owed
his gratitude, and one can well understand the dismay expres-
sed by the poet at his patron’s death in 1220; he was never
again to secure any such lasting protection. One of his last
compositions, an exchange of couplets with the young Italian
poet Sordello, dates from the mid-1220s, and the reference in
it to Aimeric’s advanced years, though made in jest, was un-
doubtedly true. His mediaeval biographer reports that he died
in Lombardy, without indicating when; it was, in all probabil-
ity, about the year 1230.
works. Aimeric’s forty-nine compositions fall into three
distinct groups, cansos, sirventés, and poetic exchanges in the
form of coblas or partimens, but one feature is common to them
all: the predominant influence of the poet’s professional
status. Few of his love-songs lack some flattering reference or
dedication to actual or potential patrons; few venture beyond
the most widely accepted formal and thematic conventions,
and such attempts at innovation as are made tend, by their very
isolation, to underline a general lack of originality. Not that
professionalism, of itself, precluded inventiveness, but its effects
were reinforced by the fact that the major part of Aimeric’s
career was spent in Italy. Here, in the early thirteenth
century, the canso was still rather an imported luxury than the
spontaneous product of a native culture; as such, it appears
that the closer it remained to pre-established models, the more
accessible it was to its new public. In the sirventés, professiona-
lism operates more specifically on the thematic level. Four
planhs lament the deaths of various Italian patrons, and one of
their most dominant motifs is the poet’s concern for his own
material prospects, a concern which inspires two other poems
of this group, one being an attack on the ‘new minstrels’
flocking to the Italian courts, the other a song of praise by
which Aimeric manifestly hoped to gain the favour of the
Emperor Frederick 11. The third group of compositions is
made up of coblas and partimens. The former, being exchanges
of single couplets with one or another of the poet’s colleagues,
represent little more than snatches of minstrel gossip, one
interesting feature of which, however, is the personal contact
they reveal between the Provengal poets and their early
Italian imitators. The partimens, or stanza by stanza debates
with another poet on some, usually amorous, dilemma, are
rather more ambitious in scope but, as in the cobdas, the figure
of the poet as passionate lover or earnest spokesman clearly
gives way to that of simple public entertainer. This feature too
is in some measure determined by the conditions which the
professional troubadour found in Italy; indeed the principal
interest of Aimeric’s work might be said to be the extent to
which it is involved in, and hence reflects, the processes
whereby troubadour poetry, already in its native land ap-
proaching its decline, was being established in an area where
it was to put down fresh roots and flourish anew.
EDITION. W.P.Shepard and F.M.Chambers The Poems of
Americ de Péguilhan (Evanston 1950).
SELECTION. The first selected piece (Sh.-Ch. no. 19) is a
typical partimen, shared in this case with Guilhem de Bergué-
dan, a Spanish nobleman who probably helped Aimeric gain
access to the royal courts in Spain. It is an early composition —
Aimeric de Péguilhan 219
Guilhem died c. 1200—and in more than one later poem
Aimeric was to take up again the attitude defended here of the
‘desamatz amoros’. There follow two cansos (Sh.-Ch. nos. 12,
15), the elegant banality and facile smoothness of which
represent the poet’s highest artistic achievement. The abun-
dant word-play, accumulation, and relatively elaborate imagery
are characteristic of Aimeric’s style; no less characteristic are
the double dedication of the one and the fulsome flattery which
concludes the other, here addressed to Frederick 11. Aimeric
composed the fourth poem (Sh.-Ch. no. 11) on the occasion of
Innocent 111’s launching of yet another crusading campaign in
1213; straightforward, direct, and wholly traditional in theme
and expression, it also exploits the possibilities inherent in the
genre of praising the poet’s protectors and criticizing those
more remote princes too occupied in their own quarrels to
hear the call to holy war, in this case the kings of France and
England and the rival claimants to the imperial throne. The
last poem (Sh.-Ch. no. 10) is a planh lamenting the death of
William Malaspina in 1220; the very frankness with which the
poet speaks of his own situation leaves little doubt as to the
sincerity of the sentiments expressed; he never did find
‘replacement or consolation’ for his late patron and possibly
felt, as we do, that this poem marks the beginning of the end of
his career.
De Berguedan, d’estas doas razos
Al vostre sen chausetz en la meillor,
Q’ieu mantenrai tant ben la sordejor
Q’ie.us cuich vensser, qui dreich m’en vol jutgar:
Si volriatz mais desamatz amar,
O desamar e que fossetz amatz?
Chausetz viatz cella que mais vos platz.
N’Aimerics, doncs auria sen de tos

Si eu lo mieills non chausia d’amor.
Totz temps vuoill mais ge.m teignan per seignor
E que desam e c’om mi teigna car;
C’anc en amor non vengui per musar,
Ni anc non fui d’agels desfasendatz;
Qe.l gazaing vuoill de dompnas e de datz.
De Berguedan, nuils hom desamoros,

Al mieu semblan, non a gaug ni honor;
C’aissi cum sens val mais sobre follor,
Val mais qui serv e.n fai mieills ad honrar,
C’aicel ge vol penre e non donar.
Per q’ieu vuoill mais esser paubres, honratz,
C’avols, manens e desenamoratz.
N’Aimerics, tot enaissi o faitz vos

Cum fetz Rainautz gand ac del fruich sabor,
Que s’en laisset non per autre temor
Mas car non poc sus el cereis mentar.
E blasme.| fruich car aver ni manjar
Non poc, e vos etz ab lui acordatz,
C’aisso que non podetz aver blasmatz.
De Berguedan, car vos etz malgignos,

Cuidatz gez eu sia d’aital color?
Non sui, q’en loc de gauch pren la dolor,
Mas bos respieitz m’aiud’a sofertar.
Per qu’eu vuoill mais ses consegr’enchaussar
Que conseguir so don non fos pagatz,
Car mil d’autres val us bens desiratz. over
De Berguédan, of these two ways of thinking choose the one
which to your mind is better, then I’ll uphold so well the worse
that I think I’ll beat you, if in this one would judge me aright:
would you prefer to love, unloved, or not to love while loved ?
Choose quickly now the one which pleases you more.
Sir Aimeric, I’d for sure have the mind of a child if I were to
choose not the better part in love: at all times I prefer to be
deemed lord, and that I love not while one holds me dear. For
never to love came I to waste my time, and I was never one of
your idle bystanders; so I want the winnings from ladies as
from dice.
De Berguédan, no man who’s not in love, it seems to me, has

ever joy or honour; for just as good sense is worth more than
folly, so he is worth more who serves, and is more to be
honoured, than he who wants to take and not to give. Where-
fore I prefer to be a poor man, honoured, than a base fellow,
wealthy and disenamoured.
Sir Aimeric, you’re acting just like Reynard the fox when he
caught a whiff of the fruit, for he gave it up from no other fear
but this, that he could not climb into the cherry-tree. He
scorned the fruit since he could not get it and eat it, and you’re
of one mind with him since you scorn what you cannot have.
De Berguédan, because you’re unsophisticated, do you believe

that I’m of the same complexion ? I’m not, for in place ofjoy I
accept sorrow, but fair hope helps me to wait patiently. Hence
I’d rather chase without catching, than catch that with which
I’d not be satisfied, because one good thing, desired, is worth a
thousand others.
N’Aimerics, mainz de gaillartz e de pros
N’ai vistz faillir tot per aital error.
Qe.l cors d’En Ot del caval milsoudor
En fo vencutz car no.] laisset brochar,
Que si de prim l’agues faich enanssar,
Cel ge.! venget fora per el sobratz.
Per c’om deu far, quan pot, sas volontatz.
De Berguedan, cella q’ieu teing plus car

Vuoill mil aitans mais amar, desamatz,
C’ab autra far totas mas volontatz.
Bar N’Aimerics, ja no.us cuidetz gabar!

Que s’amassetz aissi cum vos vanatz,
No.us foratz tant de Tolosa loignatz.
LT: Atressi.m pren quom fai al joguador

Qu’al comensar jogua mayestrilmen
A petits juecs, pueis s’escalfa perden,
Que.| fai montar tan qu’es en la folor:
Aissi.m mis ieu pauc e pauc en la via,
Que cujava amar ab mayestria
Si qu’en pogues partir quan me volgues,
On sui intratz tan qu’issir non puesc ges.
Autra vetz fui en la preizon d’Armor,

Don escapei, mas aora.m repren
Ab un cortes engienh tan sotilmen
Que.m fa plazer mo mal e ma dolor;
Q’un latz me fetz metr’al colh ab que.m lia,
Don per mon grat mai no.m desliaria;
E nulhs autr’om que fos liatz non es,
Qui.l deslies, que ben no li plagues.
Anc mais nulh temps no trobei liador

Tan ferm lies ab tan pauc liamen,
Que.] liams fo d’un dous bays solamen,
Don non truep sai qui.m desli, ni alhor. over
Sir Aimeric, ’ve seen many fine men and true failing by just
such an error. And Sir Otto’s race with the priceless horse was
lost because he did not give it its head, whereas, if from the
start he had let it run, he who beat him would have been
overcome by him. Hence a man should, when he can, fulfil
his desires.
De Berguédan, the one whom I hold most dear I prefer a thou-

sand times to love, unloved, than with another fulfil all my
desires.
Noble Sir Aimeric, don’t think you can boast like that! For if
you loved in the way which you’re now vaunting, you’d not
have come so far from Toulouse.
Il. It is so with me as it is with the gambler who, at the start, plays

masterfully for small stakes and then becomes heated, when
losing, which makes him raise his game until he is deep in
folly; so I once set out, step by step, along that road—thinking
to love with mastery so that I could quit whenever I wanted—
to which I am now so committed that I cannot leave it at all.
Once I was in Love’s prison and I escaped from it, but now it
recaptures me with a courtly device so subtly that it makes
pleasing to me my-pain and my sorrow; for it had me put a
leash around my neck with which it might bind me and from
which, by my own will, I’d never unbind myself, and there is
no other man, were he bound, who if one unbound him would
not be pleased indeed.
At no time did I ever find a captor who bound so strongly with

such little binding, for the bond was formed of one sweet kiss
alone, and from it I find none, here or elsewhere, to unbind
me.
Enliamatz sui tan que, si.m volia
Desliamar, ges far non o poiria;
Qu’Amors, que lai m’enliamet e.m pres,
M’enliama sai plus fort per un tres.
A ley del fer que va ses tirador

Vas l’azimen que.! tira vas si gen,
Amors, que.m sap tirar ses tiramen,
Mas tirat m’a sivals per la melhor.
Quar si d’autra melhuirar me sabia,
Tant am lo mielhs que be.m melhuiraria,
Mas melhuirar no cre que m’en pogues;
Ve.us per que m’a, part las melhors, conques!
Na Gentils Cors, formatz plus gen que flor,

Aiatz de me qualacom chauzimen,
Quar muer per vos, d’envey’e de talen—
E podetz o proar a ma color,
Quan vos remir, que.s trasva e.s cambia.
Per que fora almorn’e cortezia
Qhumilitatz merceyan vos prezes
D’aquest cochat, sofrachos de totz bes.
Be.m platz Guillems Malespina.] marques,

Quar conquier pretz, e Pretz a lui conques.
Na Beatritz d’Est, lo bes qu’en vos es

Fa melhuirar las autras ab lors bes.
I am so bound that, were I to seek to unbind myself, I could
not do so at all; for Love, who there took me and bound
me, here binds me three times more strongly.
In the manner of iron which moves, with no one pulling,

towards the lodestone which gently pulls it towards itself,
Love, which can pull me without any pulling, has at least
pulled me most by virtue of her who is best. For if by another
lady I could grow better, I so love what’s best that I would for
sure grow better, but I think not that I could thereby be
better; now see you by whom, from among the best, Love has
conquered me!
My Lady Fair-in-Person, more gracefully formed than a

flower, have for me some measure of indulgence since for you
I die of longing and desire—this you can prove by my com-
plexion which, when I behold you, changes and fades away.
Wherefore it would be charity and courtliness that humility
should take you, showing mercy to one afflicted and deprived
of all things good.
I’m well pleased by William Malaspina, the Marquis, for he

conquers merit and Merit has conquered him.
My Lady Beatrice of Este, the good that is in you makes other

ladies, with the good in them, grow better.
Ill. Cel qui s’irais ni guerreia ab Amor
Ges que savis non fai, al mieu semblan,
Car de guerra vei tart pro e tost dan,
E guerra fai tornar mal en pejor.
En guerra trob, per q’ieu no la volria,
Viltat de mal e de ben carestia.
Mas fin’Amors, sitot mi fai languir,
A tant de joi qe.m pot leu esjauzir.
Qe.ill plazer son plus ge.il enoi d’Amor,

E.il ben qe.il mal, e.il sojorn ge.il afan,
E.il gaug qe.il dol, e.il leu fais ge.il pesan,
E.il pro qe.il dan son plus, e.il ris ge.il plor.
Non dic aissi del tot que mal no.n sia,
E.] mals c’om n’a val mais que si.n garia;
Car qui ama de cor non vol garir
Del mal d’Amor, tant es dolz per sofrir.
Ancaras trob mais de ben en Amor,

Qe.l vil fai car, e.l nesci gen-parlan,
E lescars larc, e leial lo triian,
E.1 fol savi, e.1 pec conoissedor.
E Porgoillos domesg’et homelia,
E fai de dos cors un, tant ferm los lia.
Per c’om non deu ad Amor contradir,
Pois tant gen sap esmendar e fenir.
S’ieu lai servit, pro n’ai canje d‘Amor,

Ab que ja puois non agues mas aitan;
Q’en mains luocs m’a faich tant aut e tant gran
Don ja ses lieis non pogr’aver honor;
E maintas vetz m’engart de vilania
Que ses Amor gardar no m’en sabria,
E mains bons motz mi fai pensar e dir
Que ses Amor no.i sabria venir.
Bona dompna, de vos teing e d’Amor,

Sen e saber, cor e cors, motz e chan;
E s’ieu ren dic que sia benestan,
Devetz n’aver lo grat e la lauzor,
Vos et Amors, ge.m datz la mdestria. over
Ill. He who grows vexed or wages war with Love behaves, it
seems to me, scarce like a wise man, since from war I see
advantage coming slowly and harm swiftly, and war makes
bad turn to worse. In war I find—wherefore I’d want it not—
a deal of evil and of good a dearth. But noble Love, although
it makes me languish, has so much joy that it can soon make
me rejoice.
For the pleasures are more than the pangs of Love, the good
than the bad, the solace than the anguish, the joys than the
sorrows, and the gay moments than the grievous; the advan-
tages than the harms are more, and the smiles more than the
tears. I do not say by this at all that therein is no ill, but the ill-
ness one has of it is worth more than if one were cured; for
he who loves nobly seeks not to be cured of Love’s ill, so sweet
it is to suffer.
I find still more good in Love, for it makes what is common

precious, the blockhead eloquent, the mean man liberal, and
trustworthy the rogue, the fool wise and the ignorant learned.
It tames and humbles the haughty, and makes of two hearts
one, it binds them so strongly. On this account one should not
gainsay Love, since it can so well make better and more fine.
If I have served it, I’ve much in exchange from Love, even if I

had never again so much as this; for in many a place it has made
me so high and great where, without it, I never could have
had honour; and many a time it keeps me from lowly actions
when, without Love, I could not have refrained therefrom,
and many fine words does it cause me to think and utter which,
without Love, I could not have come upon.
Good Lady, I hold from you and from Love sense and know-
ledge, heart and body, words and song; and if I say aught that
is seemly, you should have the thanks and the praise for it, you
and Love, who give me the mastery.
E si ja plus de ben no m’en venia,
Pro n’ai cambi segon lo mieu servir;
E si fos plus, ben saubra.l plus grazir.
Chanssos, vai t’en de ma part e d’Amor,

Al bon, al bel, al valen, al prezan,
A cui servon Latin et Alaman,
E.] sopleion cum bon Emperador;
Sobre.ls majors a tant de majoria,
Larguez’e pretz, honor e cortesia,
Sen e saber, conoissens’e chausir—
Ric de ricor per ric pretz conquerir.
LV Ara parra qual seran enveyos

D’aver lo pretz del mon e.] pretz de Dieu,
Que be.ls poiran guazanhar ambedos
Selh que seran adreitamen romieu
Al Sepulcre cobrar. Las! qual dolor,
Que Turc aian forsat Nostre Senhor!
Pensem el cor la dezonor mortal,
E de la crotz prendam lo sanh senhal
E passem lai, que.l ferms e.l conoissens
Nos guizara, lo bos Pap’Innocens.
Doncs, pus quascus n’es preguatz e somos,

Tragua s’enan e senh s’e nom dé-Dieu,
Qu’en la crotz fo mes entre dos lairos,
Quan, ses colpa, l’auciron li Juzieu.
Quar si prezam leialtat ni valor,
Son dezeret tenrem a dezonor;
Mas nos amam e volem so qu’es mal,
E sdanam so qu’es bon e que val;
Que.l viures sai, qu’es morirs, non es gens,
E.1 morirs lai, viures sades, plazens.
No deuria esser hom temeros

De suffrir mort el servizi de Dieu,
Qu’elh la suffri el servizi de nos,
Don seran salf, essems ab Sant Andrieu, over
And if no more good were ever to befall me, I have much in
exchange for my service; and if there were more I could
well, for that more, give thanks.
Song, go now in my name and in Love’s, to the good, the fair,

the valiant and the praiseworthy, to him whom Latins and
Germans serve, to whom they bow down as to a good
Emperor; above the most eminent he has such eminence,
liberality, merit, honour and courtliness, wisdom and know-
ledge, judgement and discernment— great in that greatness by
which great merit is won.
EV: Now will it be clear which men are desirous of having the
world’s merit and the merit of God, for they'll indeed be able to
gain them both who straightway set forth to recover the
Sepulchre. Alas! what grief, that the Turks have done violence
to Our Lord! Let us think in our hearts on the mortal dis-
honour, and take up the sacred sign of the cross, and journey
yonder; for he, the strong, the wise, will guide us, the good
Pope Innocent.
So then, since each is asked and summoned thus, let him step
forth and take the holy sign in the name of God, Who was put
on the cross between two thieves when, for no fault, the Jews
killed Him. For, if we prize loyalty and valour, His dis-
inheritance we shall deem a dishonour; but we love and desire
that which is evil, and scorn that which is good and worth-
while. While living here, which is dying, is not noble, to die
yonder is life sweet and pleasant.
No man should be afraid to suffer death in the service of God,

for He suffered it in our service, and for this reason they will
be saved, in company with St Andrew,
Selh que.l segran lai vas Monti-Tabor.
Per que negus non deu aver pdor,
E] viatge, d’aquesta mort carnal;
Plus deu temer la mort esperital
On seran plors ez estridors de dens,
Que Sanhs Matieus o mostr’e n’es guirens.
A! vengutz es lo temps e la sazos

On deu esser préat qual temon Dieu;
Qu’elh non somo mas los valens e.ls pros,
Quar silh seran totz temps franchamen sieu
Qui seran lai ferm bon combatedor,
Fite savSiacote: enighei's olga suataraiatea a tevevei's ]
E franc e larc e cortes e leyal;
E remanran li menut e.1 venal,
Que dels bos vol Dieus qu’ab bos fagz valens
Se salvon lai—ez es belhs salvamens!
E si anc Guillems Malespina fon bos

En est segle, ben o mostra en Dieu,
Qu’ab los prumiers s’es crozatz voluntos
Per socorre.| Sant Sepulcr’e son fieu.
Don an li rey colp’e l’emperador,
Quar no fan paz ez acort entre lor
Per desliurar lo regisme reyal,
E.] lum, e.1 vas, e la crotz atretal,
Qu’an retengut li Turc tan longuamens
Que sol l’auzirs es us grieus pessamens.
Marques de Monferrat, vostr’ansessor

Agron lo pretz de Suri’e l’onor;
E vos, senher, vulhatz l’aver aital.
El nom de Dieu vos metetz lo senhal
E passatz lai, que pretz ez honramens
Vos er el mon, et en Dieu salvamens.
Tot so qu’om fai el segl’es dreitz niens,

Si, a la fi, non ’donda sos sens.
they who follow Him yonder to Mount Tabor. Wherefore no
man should fear on the journey this death of the flesh; he should
fear more the death of the spirit wherein will be weeping and
gnashing of teeth, as St Matthew propounds it and to it bears
witness.
Ha! now is the time and season come when it is to be proved

what men fear God. For He summons none but the brave and
the worthy since they will always be His, in freedom, who
yonder are good strong fighters (. . .) and free and generous
and courtly and loyal; and the mean and the venal will stay
behind, for of good men alone does God wish that, by fair
deeds of valour, they should be saved—and a fine salvation
it is!
And if ever William Malaspina was good in this earthly life,

he now shows it well in God’s; for with the first he has willingly
taken the cross to save the Holy Sepulchre and its fief. On this
account are the kings at fault, and the emperors, for they do
not make peace and accord among themselves so as to deliver
the royal kingdom, the light, the tomb, and the cross as well,
which the Turks have retained for so long now that only to hear
of it is a grievous sorrow.
Marquis of Montferrat, your forebears had the merit and glory

of Syria; and may you, Lord, be willing to have it too. In the
name of God put on the holy sign and journey yonder, for
merit and honour will be yours in this world, and, in God,
salvation.
All that a man does in this world is pure nothingness if, at the
end, his good sense helps him not.
Era par ben que Valors se desfai,
E podetz o conoisser e saber,
Quar selh que plus volia mantener
Solatz, domney, larguez’, ab cor veray,
Mezur’e sen, conoissens’e paria,
Humilitat, orguelh ses vilania,
E.ls bos mestiers totz ses menhs e ses mai,
Es mortz! Guillems Malespina marques,
Que fo miralhs e mayestre dels bes.
De bos mestiers el mon par non li say,

Qu’anc no fon tan larcs, segon mon parer,
Alexandres, de manjar ni d’aver,
Qu’elh non dis ‘non’ qui. quis, ni trobet plai;
Ni ges Galvains d’armas plus non valia,
Ninon saup tan Ivans de cortezia,
Ni.s mes Tristans d’amor en tan d’essay.
Hueymais non er castiatz ni repres
Negus, si falh, pus lo miralhs no.y es.
On son eras siei dig plazent e guai,

E siei fag plus poderos de poder,
Que.ls autres fagz fazian desvaler ?
Oi Dieus! cum son escurzit li clar rai
Qu’alumnavan Toscan’e Lombardia,
Per que quascus anava e venia
Ab lo sieu lum, ses dupt’e ses esmai,
Qu’aissi saup Pretz guizar, tan fon cortes,
Cum l’estela guidet los reys totz tres.
Per cui venran soudadier de luenh sai,

Ni.l ric joglar que.| venian vezer,
Qu’elh sabia honrar e car tener
Plus que princeps de sai mar ni de lai,
E manhta gen ses art, ses joglaria?
Per lo sieu don, on negus no falhia,
Que manh caval ferran e brun e bay
Donava plus soven, ez autr’arnes,
De nulh baron qu’ieu anc vis ni saubes. over
Aumeric de Péguilhan 233
Now indeed is it clear that Valour is undone, and this you can
see and know for sure, for he who sought most, with true heart,
to uphold pleasure, courtship, liberality, moderation and
reason, knowledge and friendship, humility, pride without
baseness, and all good qualities with nothing more and nothing
less—he is dead, the Marquis William Malaspina, who was
mirror and master of virtues.
In good qualities I know not his equal in the world, for never
so liberal, so it appears to me, was Alexander in sustenance or
riches, for he never said ‘no’ if one asked him, nor found cause
to quibble; and Gavain was not at all more valiant in arms, and
Ivain not so versed in courtliness, nor did Tristan prove him-
self so much in love. Henceforth none will be blamed or
reproached if he does wrong, for the mirror is here no more.
Where are they now, his gay and pleasant words, and his deeds
more mighty than might itself, which rendered other deeds of
little worth ?Ah God! how are the bright rays dimmed which
lighted Tuscany and Lombardy where, by his light, each
came and went without fear and without dismay, for thus he
could guide Merit, he was so courtly, as the star guided once
the three kings together.
For whom will come paid warriors here from afar, and the fine
minstrels who came to visit him and whom he honoured and
held dear more than any prince this side of the sea or the other,
and many folk too, without art, without minstrelsy ?They
came for his gifts whereof none went lacking, as he gave
away more readily many a steed, grey, brown, or bay, and
other equipment too, than any baron I ever saw or knew.
Belhs senher cars, valens, ieu que farai?
Ni cum puesc sai vius ses vos remaner,
Que.m saubes tan dir e far mon plazer
Qu’autre plazers contra.] vostre.m desplai ?
Que tals per vos m’onrav’e m’aculhia
Que m’er estrans cum si vist no m’avia.
Ni ja nulh temps cambi no.n trobarai,
Ni esmenda del dan qu’ai per vos pres,
Nez ieu non cre qu’om far la m’en pogues.
Lo Senher qu’es us en personas tres

Vos valh’aissi cum ops ni cocha.us es.
Americ de Péguilhan 255
Fair, dear, noble lord, what shall I do now? How can I stay
here, alive, without you who caused me such pleasure in words
and deeds that in contrast with yours other pleasure displeases
me? Such men there are who for your sake honoured and
welcomed me, who now will spurn me as if they had not seen
me. And at no time will I ever find replacement or consolation
for the loss which I’ve suffered in you, nor do I think that one
could do so for me.
May the Lord Who is one in three persons help you as is your
need and ardent desire.
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Sordello
LIFE. Sordello, one of the first Italian poets to cultivate the

troubadour lyric, and the most justly celebrated, was born at
Goito, near Mantua, in the early years of the thirteenth century.
The son of a poor knight, he frequented in his youth the courts
of Lombardy where we first find traces of him in the
mid-1220s, already enjoying some notoriety among the
troubadours now flocking to the region and with whom he
exchanged his first verses. In 1229, however, being deeply
implicated in certain scandalous affairs, including the kidnap-
ping and possible seduction of Count Ricciardo di San
Bonifacio’s wife in Verona, he fled the country. There followed
a rather obscure period spent as a wandering minstrel, until he
eventually found refuge at the court of Provence. Here, begin-
ning in the early 1230s, Sordello enjoyed the patronage of
Count Raymond Bérenger iv and, after the latter’s death in
1245, of his successor Charles of Anjou. From 1241 to 1269 a
series of original documents attest that he acquired an increas-
ingly important position as court functionary and when, in
1265, Charles first undertook his extensive military campaigns
in Italy, Sordello, now a knight and referred to by the Count
as his dilectus familiaris et fidelis, was able at last to return to his
native land. In 1268 and 1269, for services rendered, he was
rewarded with a number of feudal holdings in the conquered
kingdom of Naples; not that it profited him much for in August
1269 they are made over to another knight in Charles’ service.
No reason for the re-allocation is given and in no further
relevant document is Sordello’s name mentioned; one can only
presume that by late 1269 he was dead.
works. Of the general characteristics of Sordello’s work,
consisting of forty-three compositions in all, the most obvious
are a considerable variety of genre and, within that variety, a
numerical predominance of minor forms—coblas, tensos, parti-
mens, etc.—over the major forms of canso and sirventés. Many
of the minor compositions belong either to the poet’s early
years in Italy, or to that period of his life when, in the service
of Charles of Anjou, he was entrusted with more important
functions than those of simple court minstrel. Their interest is
mainly biographical, their artistic merit slight. The major part
of his work, including the cansos and sirventés, date from the
1230s and early 1240s when he most actively pursued the
career of professional troubadour. The twelve cansos form a
fairly coherent group, unadventurous in their verse-form and
remarkable in their style only by a relative simplicity of ex-
pression well-suited to a poet not working in his native tongue.
Their thematic material, however, although generally rather
limited, conventional, and repetitive in nature, is distinguished
by one important feature. That is the sustained exploitation of
the theme of honour, conceived of as both the highest reward
to which the lover might aspire and the greatest attribute of
the lady which no concession to love or the lover’s pleas should
taint. Not only does this theme most distinctively individualize
Sordello’s love-poetry, it marks an important step in the process
by which the sensualism of the classical troubadour canso is
transformed into the spirituality of the dolce stil nuovo. It is
further touched on in Sordello’s minor, possibly fragmentary,
compositions and provides the main subject of his Ensenhamen
d’Onor, a long didactic poem which catalogues those courtly
virtues which constitute true honour. As for Sordello’s eight
sirventés, three are personal satires, two are devoted toa general
deploration of the moral state of the world, and the remaining
three deal, in the same spirit, with rather more specific historical
circumstances. Although they are formally less ornate than the
cansos, and lack the vigour and sharpness achieved by such
eminent practitioners of the genre as Bertran de Born or Peire
Cardenal, it is undoubtedly to them that Sordello owed his
lasting fame. Dante certainly had them in mind when, in the
Purgatory, he assigns to him the role of critic of kings and
princes, and it is on the basis of Dante’s presentation, com-
bined with local tales of his youthful exploits, that the legend
of Sordello was to thrive for centuries to come. Unfortunately,
for all its rich fantasy, this legend serves only to obscure the
real interest and importance of Sordello’s poetry.
EDITION. M. Boni Sorde/lo, Le Poesie (Bologna 1954).
Sordello 239
SELECTION. Such is the uniformity of the art and inspiration
of Sordello’s cansos that any selection from among them will
represent in most aspects the complete group; in the three
cansos first selected here (Boni nos. 2, 4, 9), one can well
appreciate the poet’s elegance and simplicity of expression,
his successful attempts at relatively elaborate simile, the re-
stricted scope of the stanza-structure and, associated with a
number of purely conventional mozifs, the distinctive part
played by the theme of honour. The same formal qualities are
to be seen in the fourth selected piece (Boni no. 22), a moral
sirventes dedicated, like the first canso, to Na Agradiva, thought
to be Guida of Rodez, wife of a Provencal baron. The some-
what ambiguous envoy to James I of Aragon almost certainly
echoes Raymond Bérenger’s desire to secure more firmly a
rather problematical alliance with the Spanish monarch. The
next poem, the second of three personal sirventés directed
against the poet Peire Bremon Ricas Novas, is one of the more
elegant examples of an increasingly cultivated genre by which,
with a low, music-hall type of humour, the professional
troubadours sought to amuse their noble public. Lastly, a
political sirventés (Boni no. 26) which, in the guise of a
funeral lament for a Provencal nobleman, castigates the fail-
ings and weaknesses of most of the crowned heads of W.
Europe. Composed c. 1237—as is indicated by the fairly trans-
parent historical allusions—this is generally considered to be
Sordello’s most successful composition, and it is certainly his
most famous. Several imitations of it were soon produced, and
it is this poem above all which led Dante, already an admirer
of Sordello’s work, to make of him the splendidly impressive
figure who stalks through cantos 6, 7 and 8 of the Purgatory.
Aitant, ses plus, viu hom quan viu jauzens,
C’autra viure no.s deu vid’apellar;
Per q’ieu m’esfors de viur’e de reinhar
Ab joi, per leys plus coratjozamens
Servir q’ieu am; quar hom que viu marritz
Non pot de cor far bos faitz ni grazitz;
Doncex er merces si.m fai la plus grazida
Viure jauzens, pus als no.m ten a vida.
Tant pes en lieys e tan l’am coralmens

Que nueyt e jorn tem mi falh’al pensar,
Quar de beutat ni de pretz non a par,
Per que.| devon esser obediens
Las plus prezans, quar enaissi es guitz
Per dreg guidar, sos gens cors ben aibitz,
Las pros en pretz, cum las naus en mar guida
La tramontana e.l fers e.lh caramida.
E puys guida.l ferm’estela luzenz

Las naus que van perillan per la mar,
Ben degra mi cil, qi.l sembla, guidar,
Qu’en la mar suy per lieys profondamens
Tant esvaratz, destreitz, et esbaitz,
Qe.i serai mortz ans que.n hiesc’e peritz,
Si no.m secor, quar non truep a l’yssida
Riba ni port, gua ni pont, ni guerida.
Dura merces e trop loncx chauzimens

Me fan murir per sobre-dezirar,
Quar ieu non puesc ses lo joy vius durar
Quwie.l quier, sirven, aman, ab tals turmens
Que.! jorn mil vetz volri’esser fenitz,
Tan mi destreing lo dartz don sui feritz
Al cor d’Amor, per ge.l mortz m’es ayzida,
Car il non es tot eissamen ferida.
Las! Don li ven de mi aucir talens,

Pos q’ill no.m pot en nulh forfach trobar,
E ja per mal que.m sapcha dir ni far
Non puosc esser de lieis amar partens ?
Doncx, e que.lh val si.m fai mal ni.l me ditz ? over
Sordello 241
Inasmuch, no more, does a man live as he lives joyously, and

to live otherwise should not life be called; wherefore I strive to
live and to dwell in joy, so as to serve with greater heart her
whom I love. For the man who lives sadly cannot with heart
do fine deeds or fair; hence it will be mercy if she, the most
gracious, has me live joyously, since aught else I deem not life.
So much do I think of her and love her so in my heart that, night

and day, I fear that by thinking I fail, because in beauty and
merit she has no peer. For this should ladies who merit most
be obedient to her, that in the same way is her gracious and
perfect person a guide, truly to guide in merit those ladies of
worth, as the pole-star or magnet or lodestone guides ships on
the sea.
And since the constant, shining star guides ships that go in peril
on the sea, she should indeed, who is like it, guide me who for
her am so deeply at sea, so lost, distressed and in dismay that
I'll be dead before I emerge from it, and perished, unless she
helps me; for I find not at journey’s end a shore, or haven, ford
or bridge, or shelter.
Obdurate mercy and long-delayed indulgence make me die of

over-desiring, for I cannot live without the joy which I seek
of her, serving, loving, in such torment that a thousand times a
day I would my life were ended. So much does Love’s dart, by
which I’m stricken in heart, torment me that death is near,
because she is not by it likewise stricken.
Alas! Whence comes to her the wish to slay me, since she can
find me in no fault, and never, for any ill which she might say or
do me, can I quit loving her ? What then does it avail her if she
says or does me ill?
C’aissi.l sui ferms, autreiatz, e plevitz
Qu’enans sera m’arma del cors partida
Quwieu me.n parta, tan l’am d’amor complida.
N’Agradiva, dompna de pretz razitz,

De cor, de cors, e de faitz e de ditz
Suy vostres totz, quar etz la mielhs aybida,
Net’e plazens, stiaus et yssernida.
Per Dieu, aiatz merce, dompna grazida,

De me, qu’en vos es ma mortz e ma vida.
LBke Bel m’es ab motz leugiers a far

Chanson plazen et ab guay so,
Que.| melher que hom pot triar,
A cuy m’autrey e.m ren e.m do,
No vol ni.l plai chantar de mdestria;
E mas no.lh plai, farai hueymais mon chan
Leu a chantar e d’auzir agradan,
Clar d’entendre e prim, qui prim lo tria.
Gen mi saup mon fin cor emblar

Al prim qu’ieu mirey sa faisso,
Ab un dous amoros esguar
Que.m lansero siey huelh lairo.
Ab selh esgar m’intret en aisselhdia
Amors pels huelhs al cor d’aital semblan,
Que.! cor en trays e mes I’a son coman,
Si qu’ab lieys es, on qu’ieu an ni estia.
Ai, cum mi saup gent esgardar—

Si Pesgartz messongiers no fo—
Dels huelhs que sap gent enviar
Totz temps per dreg lai on l’es bo!
Mas a sos digz mi par qu’aiso.s cambia,
Pero l’esgar creirai, qu’ab cor forsan
Parl’om pro vetz, mas nulh poder non an
Huelh d’esgardar gen, si.l cor no.ls envia. over
Sordello 243
For so I am bound to her, devoted and pledged, that my soul
will have left my body sooner than I had left her, so much do I
love her in perfect love.
Lady Delightful, root of all merit, I am in heart, in body, and

in deeds and words entirely yours, for you are the most perfect,
pure and pleasing, gentle, and discerning.
In God’s name have mercy, gracious lady, on me, for in you is

my death and my life.
TH. I’m happy to make with easy words a pleasant song, and with
gay melody, for the best lady that a man can choose, to whom
I devote and yield and render myself, neither desires nor is
pleased by the elaborate style of singing; and since she is not
pleased by it, I’ll make from now on my song easy to sing and
agreeable to hear, clear and simple to understand, for one who
chooses it simple.
Gently she knew how to steal my pure heart from me, when
first I beheld her, with a sweet loving glance which her thiev-
ing eyes cast me. With that glance, on that day, love entered
through the eyes into my heart, and in such guise that it drew
my heart from me and placed it at her command, so that it is
with her wherever I go or dwell.
Ah! How she knew how to glance gently at me—unless that

glance was a liar—with eyes which she can gently turn always
directly there where it pleases her! But from her words it
appears to me that all that is now changing, yet I’ll believe her
glance; for many a time can one speak with constrained heart,
but the eyes have no power to cast a gentle glance unless the
heart directs them.
E quar am de bon pretz ses par,
Am mais servir lieys en perdo
Qu’autra qu’ab si.m degnes colgar.
Mas no la sier ses guazardo,
Quar fis amicx no sier ges d’aital guia,
Quan sier de cor en honrat loc prezan;
Per que l’onors m’es guazardos d’aitan
Que.l sobreplus non quier, mas be.u penria.
Vailla.m ab vos merces, dolz’enemia;

No m/’auziez s’eu vos am ses enjan.
Qe me suffratz ge.us serv’ab ferm talan:
Tal don deman, ni estre non deuria.
itl Qan plus creis, dompna, .| desiriers

Don languisc, quar no.m faitz amor,
De lauzar vostre pretz ausor
Creis plus mos cors, car jois entiers
No.m pot ges vinir, amija,
De vos, si.] pretz s’en destrija;
Q’aitan car teing vostre fin pretz valen
Com am ni voill vostre cors car e gen.
Aital m’autrei, fis, vertadiers,

A vos q’etz ses par de valor,
Q’eu am mais morir ab dolor
Qe de vos mi veng’aligriers
Q’al fin pretz q’en vos s’abrija
Puesca dan tener; e si ja
Mais me trobatz vas vos d’autre talen,
Ja non aiaz merce ni chausimen.
Q’amar non pot nuls cavaliers

Sa dompna ses cor trichador,
S’engal lei non ama sa honor.
Per ge.us prec, bels cors plazentiers, over
Sordello 245
And because I love in fair and peerless merit, I would rather
serve her in vain than any other who might let me lie with her.
Yet I do not serve her without reward, for the noble lover
serves not in such manner when he serves with his heart in an
honoured and praiseworthy place; wherefore the honour is
such ample reward for me that I seek not the rest, though I
would gladly take it.
May mercy avail me with you, sweet enemy; pray do not slay
me if I love you without guile. That you suffer me to serve you
with steadfast desire: such is the gift which I ask for, nor should
there be denial.
HI. The more, my lady, that the longing grows of which I

languish since you show me no love, the greater heart I have to
praise your highest merit, since joy entire cannot come to me
from you, beloved, if that merit is thereby destroyed; for I hold
dear your noble, worthy merit as much as I love and desire
your dear and gentle self.
Such do I yield myself, noble and true, to you who are peerless
in worth, that I would rather die in grief than that any pleasure
should come to me from you which, to the noble merit which
dwells in you, might be of harm. And if ever you find me
otherwise disposed towards you, then may you never have
mercy or indulgence.
For no knight can love his lady without deceitful heart unless
as much as her he loves her honour. Wherefore I pray you, fair
and gracious one,
Qe pauc ni gaire ni mija
Non fassatz de re ge.us dija,
Q’esser puesca contra.| vostr’onramen.
Gardaz s’ie.us am de fin cor, leialmen!
Per merce.us prec, bell’amija,

Qez ab una qualge brija
Del joi d’amor mi secoraz breumen,
Si far se pot salvan vostr’onramen.
Q’estiers non posc aver nul jauzimen,

Si pietatz e merces no.us inpren.
LV: Qui be.is membra del segle qu’es passatz,

Con hom lo vi de toz bos faitz plazen,
Ni com hom ve malvatz ni recrezen
Aquel d’aras, ni com ja restauratz
Non er per cel qi vendra, plus malvatz,
Totz hom viura ab gran dolor, membran
Cals es, ni fo, ni er d’aissi enan.
Mas non es dreitz c’om valentz ni prezatz

Si recreza per aital membramen,
Anz taing s’esforz tot jorn plus vivamen
Com sofra.l fais de pretz, qu’es mesprezatz,
Car cel n’a mais que plus fort n’es cargatz,
E car es dreitz que s’esforco.il prezan
De ben, on plus I’avol s’en van laissan.
En plus greu point non pot nuills esser natz

Com cel que pert Dieu e.] segl’issamen;
Tot aital son li trist malvatz manen,
C’an mes a mort domnei, joi, e solatz.
Tant los destreing non-fes e cobeitatz
C’onor e pretz en meton en séan,
E Dieu e.] mon en getan a lur dan. over
Sordello 247
to do not a whit, no mite or iota, of whatever I tell you which
could counter your honour. Behold how I love you with pure
heart, loyally!
For Pity’s sake I pray you, fair beloved, that with some little
crumb of love’s joy you come to my help, swiftly, if that can be
done saving your honour.
For otherwise I can have no joy, unless pity and mercy take
you.
IV. If one well remembers the times that are gone, how one saw
them graced with all fine deeds, and how one sees present times
wicked and faithless, and how they will never be made up for
by times to come, more wicked still, then any man will be in
great grief, remembering what times they are, and what they
were, and what they will be henceforth.
Yet it’s not right that the man of worth and of merit should
lose faith through such remembrance; it rather behoves him to
strive every day more keenly to take on the burden of merit
which is despised, because he has more of it who is by it more
heavily burdened, .and because it is right that the praise-
worthy strive after good the more the worthless abandon it.
In more grievous state can no one be born than he who loses

God and the world together; in just such a state are the
wretched, wicked rich who have put to death courtship, joy,
and pleasure. So much do faithlessness and greed grip them
that they neglect thereby honour and merit, and they despise
thereby God and the world.
Ai! com pot tan esser desvergoignatz
Nuls hom gentils, que an enbastarden
Son lignage per aur ni per argen?
Qe l’avers vai leumens, e la rictatz,
E.ill vid’es breus e la mortz ven viatz;
Per c’om degra lialmen viure, aman
Deu, retenen del mon grat, gen regnan.
Dels maiors mou tota la malvestatz,

E pois apres de gra en gra dissen
Tro als menors, per que torna a nien
Jois e pretz, si que, qui pretz vol ni.l platz,
Pot n’aver leu, car tan n’es gran mercatz
Que per cinc solz n’a hom la pez’e.l pan,
Si.] tenon vil li ric malvatz triian!
N’Agradiva, qui quez estei malvatz,

Per vos azir malvestat et enjan,
Et am valor e joi e pretz e chan.
Al rei tramet mon sirventes viatz,

Cel d’Aragon, que.| fais lo plus pesan
Sosten de pretz, per que.| ten en treman.
Lo reproviers vai averan, so.m par,

D’om’escaudat qui tem tebe ancse,
C’us fals volpills qe.is fai a det mostrar
—Tant fort se feing—a pres de sobre se
Mon sirventes, de cui gez eu faich l’aia,
Car en son cor sap totz los mals ge.i son;
E pois per sieu lo pren, qui qu’el retraia,
Far lai Ponor qu’a lui l’autrei e.l don.
Ges no.m degra de bausia reptar,

Q’ieu sui leials, et el tant fals, q’en re
Non ausaria ad un gat tornas far,
Ni.s faria el, del dreich c’auria, be. over
Sordello 249
Ah! How can any man of good birth be so unashamed as to
bastardize his lineage for gold or silver? For wealth goes
quickly, and riches; and life is short and death comes swiftly.
Wherefore one should live loyally, loving God, retaining the
world’s approval, behaving nobly.
From the most eminent does this wickedness spring, and there-
after, step by step, it descends to the least; hence joy and merit
come to naught, so that he who desires merit, he whom it
pleases, can easily have it for it’s going at such a bargain that,
for five halfpence, one has a whole suitlength of it and more,
so cheap do the great ones, wicked and criminal, hold it.
Lady Delightful, no matter who lives wickedly, for you I hate

wickedness and deceit, and I love valour and joy and merit and
song.
To the king I send my sirventes swiftly, he of Aragon who

sustains the heaviest burden of merit, and thus holds it insome
trepidation.
The proverb’s proving true, it seems to me, about the scalded

man who fears ever after what’s warm, for a foxy knave who’s
attracting attention—he gives himself such airs—has taken as
about himself my sirventes, no matter about whom I wrote it,
because in his heart he knows all the evils there are there; and
since he’s taken it as about himself, no matter whom it
portrays, I’ll do him the honour of according and giving him it.
He should by no means accuse me of trickery, for I am loyal

and he so knavish that he wouldn’t dare quarrel with a cat, nor
defend even the right that he might have.
C’om que anc jorn non fetz colp ni pres plaia
No m’es semblan pogues far nuill faich bo;
Car aitant tost cum el s’arma, s’esglaia,
C’anc hom d’aital fantonia non fon.
Ben a gran tort, car m’apella joglar

C’ab autre vau, et autre ven ab me!
E don ses penre, et el pren ses donar,
Q’en son cors met tot gant pren per merce.
Mas eu non pren ren don anta m’eschaia,
Anz met ma renda e non vuoill guizerdon
Mas sol d’amor; per ge.m par q’el dechaia
Et eu poje, qui nos jutg’a razon.
Car sol si sap peigner et afaitar,

E car se feing tot jorn non sap de que,
E car se sap torser e remirar,
Cre qe.is n’azaut tota dompna de se!
Mas eu non crei que pros dompna s’atraia
Vas tant vil cors per tant vil ochaison,
Mas car als crois si taing dompna savaia,
Trobar la pot sus el castel Babon.
En luoc d’ausberc fai camis’aredar,

E per caval vol amblan palafre,
Et en luoc d’elm fai capiron fresar,
E per escut pren mantel—e.] rete;
E si per so.ill don Amors ren ge.il plaia,
Reptar pot hom Amor de tracion.
Mas non o fai mas per semblansa gaia
Lo fals feignens, car alres no.il ten pron.
Gen I’a saubut lo valens coms onrar

De Tolosa, si co.is taing ni.s cove,
C’a Marseilla l’a faich azaut tornar,
Per que laisset son seignor e sa fe.
Mas el no tem vergoigna, ni s’esmaia
Don degr’estar marritz tota sazo,
Lo fals volpills q’a nom, car pauc s’essaia,
“Cor de conill ab semblan de leon’.
Sordello 251
And the man who never dealt a blow or received wound (in
battle) could not, it seems to me, do any fine deed; for as soon
as he puts on arms he’s scared to death, and never was there
a man of such cowardliness.
He is most certainly wrong when he calls me a minstrel, for he

follows others while others follow me; I give without taking
and he takes without giving and keeps to himself all that he
takes by favour. But I take nothing by which shame might
befall me; I rather spend all that I gain and seek no other
reward but that of love alone. Hence it appears to me that he
is on the way down, and that I’m rising high, if one judges us
rightly.
Simply because he knows how to paint and adorn himself, and

because all day long he fancies himself he knows not about
what, he thinks every lady finds him to her liking! But I think
that no worthy lady is attracted to such a base fellow for so
base a reason; but, since for knaves a worthless lady is fitting,
he can find one up in Babon’s castle (in the low quarter of
Marseilles).
Instead of a breastplate he has a soft shirt prepared, and for a

charger asks for an ambling palfrey; instead of a helmet he has
a riding-hood stitched, and for a shield he takes—and keeps—
a cloak. And if for that Love gives him anything which
pleased him, then one can accuse Love of betrayal; but he has
such only in gay appearance, this knavish impostor, for any-
thing else is of no advantage to him.
The worthy Count of Toulouse knew well how to honour him

as was fitting and suitable, for to Marseilles he properly made
him turn back, since he had quit his lord and his pledged faith.
But he fears no shame nor is moved by that for which he ought
to be downcast the whole year through, this foxy knave who’s
called, since he undertakes little, ‘Rabbit’s heart in lion’s
guise’.
Vi. Planher vuelh En Blacatz en aquest leugier so,
Ab cor trist e marrit, et ai en be razo,
Qu’en luy ai mescabat senhor et amic bo,
Et quar tug l’ayp valent en sa mort perdut so.
Tant es mortals lo dans qu’ieu non ai sospeisso
Que jamais si revenha, s’en aital guiza no:
Qu’om li traga lo cor e que.n manjo.1 baro
Que vivon descorat—pueys auran de cor pro!
Premiers manje del cor, per so que grans ops l’es,

L’emperaire de Roma, s’elh vol los Milanes
Per forsa conquistar; quar luy tenon conques,
E viu deseretatz, malgrat de sos Ties.
E deseguentre lui manje.n lo reys frances:
Pueys cobrara Castella que pert per nescies;
Mas, si pez’a sa maire, elh no.n manjara ges,
Quar ben par, a son pretz, qu’elh non fai ren que.l pes.
Del rei engles me platz, quar es pauc coratgos,

Que manje pro del cor; pueys er valens e bos,
E cobrara la terra, per que viu de pretz blos,
Que.l tol lo reys de Fransa, quar lo sap niialhos.
E lo reys castelas tanh qu’en manje per dos,
Quar dos regismes ten, e per l'un non es pros;
Mas, s’elh en vol manjar, tanh qu’en manj’a rescos,
Que si.l mair’o sabia, batria.l ab bastos.
Me
Del rey d’Arago vuelh del cor deia manjar,

Que aisso lo fara de l’anta descarguar
Que pren sai, de Marcella e d’Amilau, qu’onrar
No.s pot estiers per ren que puesca dir ni far.
Et apres vuelh del cor don hom al rei navar,
Que valia mais coms que reys, so aug comtar;
Tortz es quan Dieus fai hom’en gran ricor poiar,
Pus sofracha de cor lo fai de pretz bayssar. over
Sordello 253
VI. I would lament Sir Blacatz in this simple melody, with sad and
sorry heart, and I have indeed reason for it, since in him have I
lost a lord and good friend, and all worthy qualities have with
his death disappeared. So mortal is the loss that I have not the
faintest hope that it might ever be made good, unless in this
way: that his heart be cut out and the great nobles eat of it,
who now live disheartened—then they'll have heart enough!
Let there first eat of it, because his need is great, the Emperor
of Rome, if he wants to conquer the Milanese by force; for
they deem him conquered, and he lives deprived of his heri-
tage, in spite of his Germans. And straight after him let the
French king eat of it, then he’ll recover Castile which he’s
losing through his stupidity; but if it annoys his mother, he’ll
not eat of it at all, for it well appears, from his repute, that he
does nothing which might annoy her.
Of the English king I would that, since he is uncourageous, he

eat a good deal of the heart; then he'll be fine and worthy, and
he'll recover the land on account of which he lives without
merit, and of which the king of France robs him since he knows
him to be fainthearted. And it behoves the Castilian king to eat
of it twice over, since he has two kingdoms and he’s not
worthy by one; but if he would eat of it, it behoves him to eat
of it in secret, for if his mother knew it, she’d beat him with
sticks.
I would that the king of Aragon should eat of the heart, for
that will relieve him of the shame which he incurs here, for
Marseilles and Millau, since in no other way can he win honour
through anything that he might do or say. And next I would
that one gave of the heart to the king of Navarre, for he was
more worthy as a count than now as a king, so I hear say; it’s
wrong when God causes a man to rise to great eminence, then
lack of heart makes him decline in merit.
Al comte de Toloza a ops qu’en manje be,
Si.l membra so que sol tener ni so que te;
Quar si ab autre cor sa perda non reve,
No.m par que la revenha ab aquel qu’a en se.
E.] coms préensals tanh qu’en manje, si.l sove
C’oms que deseretatz viu, guaire non val re;
E si tot ab esfors si defen ni.s chapte,
Ops l’es manje del cor pel greu fais qu’el soste.
Li baro.m volran mal de so que ieu dic be,

Mas ben sapchan qu’ie.Is pretz aitan pauc quon ilh me.
Belh Restaur, sol qu’ab vos puesca trovar merce,

A mon dan met quascun que per amic no.m te.
Sordello 255
For the Count of Toulouse there’s need to eat well of it, if he

remembers that which he used to possess and that which he
now possesses; for if with another heart he doesn’t make good
his loss, it does not seem to me that he’ll make it good with the
one he has in him. And it behoves the Provengal Count that he
eat of it, if he recalls that the man who lives deprived of his
heritage is worth hardly anything; and even though with great
striving he defends and maintains himself, there’s need for him
to eat of the heart for the great burden which he sustains.
The great nobles will wish me ill for that which I say well, but
let them know rightly that I prize them as little as they me.
Fair Recompense, only provided that with you I could find

mercy, I scorn each man who holds me not his friend.
Guilhem de Montanhagol
LiFe. In the thirty years or so during which, following the end

of the Albigensian Crusade in 1229, the political, social, and
cultural autonomy of the Midi was being eroded, Guilhem de
Montanhagol was one of the few troubadours still striving to
maintain there the art of the courtly lyric. Of obscure origin,
possibly belonging to the lower rank of the nobility, he
consequently depended on the patronage of more eminent
nobles, although the limited number of his compositions makes
it unlikely that his services were exclusively literary in nature.
Many of his poems, including the earliest dating from 1233-
1234, reveal a close attachment to Raymond vii, Count of
Toulouse and, apart from a brief visit to the court of Aragon in
1238, Guilhem did not quit the Midi until after Raymond’s
death in 1248. A small group of poems indicate his presence at
the court of Alfonso x of Castile from 1252 to 1257, but after
this last date all trace of the poet is lost. One of the rare planhs
composed on the death of a troubadour was written to lament
his death, but its author, a certain Pons Santolh of Toulouse,
gives no chronological details. In all probability, Guilhem de
Montanhagol died in Spain, in the late 1250s.
WORKS. Five sirventés, seven cansos, a partimen shared with
Sordello and an exchange of double cob/as with the troubadour
Blacasset make up Guilhem’s total poetic output. As much of
his life centred on the court of Toulouse, so a great deal of his
poetry is closely linked with the political fortunes of his
suzerain. Thus, from the period 1233-1242, during which
Raymond was actively resisting both the Inquisition and the
incursions of French royal authority in his domains, we have a
first group of sirventés inspired by this resistance; they echo
Raymond’s grievances, encourage his allies, revile those who
defect from his cause, and generally deplore the decline of
prowess and generosity which, for Guilhem, survive only in
the person of his patron. However, the collapse of Raymond’s
revolt in 1242 marks the end of this first period; it was followed
by one of outward submission and retrenchment during which
Raymond bids desperately to ensure some measure of terri-
torial integrity and dynastic continuity. Guilhem now com-
poses a group of cansos in which he, for his part, seeks to defend
and conserve the forms and ideals of courtliness. A consequent
feature of them is an insistence on the moral values of love, on
such concepts as honour, virtue and purity which, though not
unknown to earlier troubadours, are now redefined with a new
precision and a new dialectical coherence. A second feature is
the poet’s recognition of a long-established cultural tradition,
the sense of a real and more glorious past which already pre-
figures an attitude common to poets and romancers of the later
Middle Ages. The third group of Guilhem’s compositions
belongs to the period following Raymond’s death in 1248, when
the cause of freedom from French domination in the Midi was
shattered, and, with it, the cultural conditions in which the
courtly lyric had once thrived. These last poems, composed at
the court of Castile, and in which the didactic, theorizing and
discursive tone is dominant, represent a final bid to resume, to
make known, and so to ensure the survival of what Guilhem
conceived to be the essence of the courtly ideal. In a way, they
are no less partisan than the most outspoken of his political
sirventés, but what he, the expatriate troubadour, is now
resisting is the total disappearance of an art which in its native
land was already on the point of extinction.
EDITION. P.T. Ricketts Les Poésies de Guilhem de Montanhagol
(Toronto 1964).
SELECTION. The first poem (Ricketts no. 1), Guilhem’s
earliest composition, is a sirventés dating from 1233-34. The
Inquisition had just been entrusted to the Dominican friars, and
a measure of the dread which it inspired is suggested by the
poet’s own cautious affirmation (st. 2) of the two fundamental
orthodox beliefs denied by the Albigensian heretics. The criti-
cisms made by Guilhem of both the regular clergy and the
preaching friars, for all their generality, correspond in fact pre-
cisely to the attitude of Raymond v11, whose humiliating sub-
mission imposed at the end of the Albigensian Crusade is recalled
in the tornada; it was he who, late in 1233, complained to the
Pope of the excesses and arbitrary judgements of the Inquisi-
Guilhem de Montanhagol 259
tors, and he who, in March of the following year, protested to
Louis 1x against the greedy acquisition of lands and property by
abbots and bishops in his domains. The second poem (Ricketts
no. 4), an equally partisan sirventés, dates from mid-October
1242 when some of Raymond’s allies had already submitted to
the Frenchking, when Henry 1110f England wasstill recovering
in Bordeaux from the defeats of Saintes and Taillebourg, and
when James 1 of Aragon still showed no sign of joining in an
offensive alliance with Raymond against the French. The next
two poems (Ricketts nos. 8, 6) are cansos belonging to
Guilhem’s middle period—the ladies to whom they are dedi-
cated, not positively identifiable, may well be the wives of two
of Raymond’s vassals. That both songs are of identical stanza-
structure is but one indication of the poet’s relative indifference
to the more formal aspects of his art. For him, the thematic
material of the canso has become all-important —an innovation
of which he seems fully aware—and the thematic material
itself tends now to be formulated as abstract theoretical
concept rather than subjective emotional experience. This
tendency is even more marked in the fifth piece (Ricketts no.
12) which dates from Guilhem’s stay with the scholar-king
Alfonso x of Castile. Its versification is even plainer, the style
more colourless, while the rationalizing, discursive register
now is predominant. The sixth poem (Ricketts no. 14),
Guilhem’s last work, is a moral sirventés dating from 1257, the
year of Alfonso’s election to the Imperial throne and of the
threat to Europe of Mongolian invasion. The vast disillusion
which it so eloquently expresses is scarcely tempered by the
formulation of an ideal of social justice which, in all its simpli-
city, nevertheless serves to recall that, for the troubadours,
courtliness had been not only an ideal of heterosexual relation-
ships but a total concept of life in feudal society.
Del tot vey remaner valor,
Qu’om no.s n’entremet, sai ni lai,
Ni non penson de nulh ben sai,
Ni an lur cor mas en laor;
E meron mal clerc e prezicador,
Quar devedon so qu’az els no.s cove:
Que hom per pretz non do ni fassa be.
E hom que pretz ni do met en sdan,
Ges de bon loc no. mou, al mieu semblan.
Quar Dieus vol pretz e vol lauzor,

E Dieus fo vers hom, qu’ieu 0 sai;
E hom que vas Dieu res desfai,
E Dieus I’a fait aitan d’onor
Qu’al sieu semblan I’a fag ric e major,
E pres de si mais de neguna re—
Doncx ben es fols totz hom, que car no.s te:
E que fassa en aquest segle tan
Que, sai e lai, n’aya grat, on que.s n’an.
Ar se son fait enqueredor,

E jutjon aissi com lur plai.
Pero l’enquerre no.m desplai,
Anz me plai que casson error,
E qu’ab bels digz plazentiers, ses iror,
Torno.ls erratz desviatz en la fe,
E qui.s penet que truep bona merce,
E enaissi menon dreg lo gazan
Que tort ni dreg no perdan—so que.y an.
Enquer dizon mais de folor:

Qu’aurfres a dompnas non s’eschai.
Pero si dompna piegz no fai,
Ni.n leva erguelh ni ricor,
Per gen tener no pert Dieu ni s’amor;
Ni ja nulhs hom, s’elh estiers be.s capte,
Per gen tener ab Dieu no.s dezave,
Ni ja per draps negres ni per floc blan
No conquerran ilh Dieu, s’alre no.y fan. over
I see worthiness wholly in decline, for no man makes it his
business near or far, and here none think of any good thing,
nor have their hearts set on aught but gain; and clergy and
preaching friars are ill deserving, because they forbid that
which it behoves them not to: that a man should for merit’s
sake give and act generously. Yet if a man scorns merit and
generosity, it springs from no good motive, to my mind.
For God is in favour of merit and of praiseworthiness, and God

became in truth a man, I know this; and the man who wrongs
God when He has done him such honour as to make him, in
His image, great and supreme, and nearer Him than any living
thing—every such man is then indeed a fool, for he has no
self-esteem; let him in this world do so much that, near and far,
he may have approval for it wherever he may go.
Now they have set themselves up as Inquisitors, and so give

judgement as it pleases them. Yet the Inquisition does not
displease me; rather, it pleases me that they should pursue
error, and with fair pleasant words, without anger, lead the
lost heretics back to the faith, and that he who repents should
find sweet mercy and that they should so conduct their business
rightly that they neglect not right or wrong, such as they have
in it.
Still more folly do they speak, saying that cloth of gold does
not befit ladies. Yet, if a lady does no worse and feels neither
pride nor haughtiness for that, then through fine apparel she
loses neither God nor His love; and no man, if in other ways
he behaves well, is ever through fine apparel at variance with
God, nor, through wearing black cassocks or white friars’
robes, will they ever find God, if to that end they do nothing
else.
Tug laisson, per Nostre Senhor,
Nostre clerc lo segle savai,
E no pessan mas quan de lai;
Aissi.ls gart Dieus de dezonor
Cum elhs non an ni erguelh ni ricor,
Ni cobeytatz no.ls enguana ni.ls te,
Ni no volon re de so qu’hom bel ve.
Res no volon? Pero ab tot s’en van,
Pueys prezon pauc, qui ques i aya dan!
Sirventes, vay al pro comte dese

De Toloza; membre.| que fag li an,
E gart se d’elhs d’esta ora enan.
Il. Bel m’es quan d’armatz aug refrim

De trompas, lai on om s’escrim,
E trazon prim
L’arquier melhor—
Nostri e lor—
E vey de senhas bruelha;
Adoncx trassalh
Cor de vassalh,
Tro que sos cors s’erguelha!
Coms de Tolza, on plus esprim

Los ricx, vos vey de pretz al cim;
E vuelh qu’aissi.m
Don Dieus s’amor
Cum, part lauzor,
Vostre ricx pretz capduelha—
Sol qu’a un talh,
Qui ara.us falh
May ab vos no s’acuelha.
La Marcha, Foys e Rodes vim

Falhir ades als ops de prim!
Per quieu.ls encrim
De part honor
E de valor, over
May our clerics, for Our Lord’s sake, all abandon this wicked
world, and may they have no thought but for the next; and
may God by as much preserve them from dishonour as they
have neither pride nor haughtiness, as greed deceives them
not and does not possess them, and as they desire naught of
what one deems fair. Desire naught? Yet they go off with all,
and then care little, no matter who loses thereby!
Sirventes, go swiftly to the worthy Count of Toulouse; remind

him of what they have done to him, and let him beware of them
from this time forth.
aI. It’s pleasant to me when I hear the call of armed men’s

clarions, there where there’s fighting, and when the best
archers—ours and theirs—shoot sharp, and I see a forest of
banners; then let the heart of the vassal thrill, till his body is
filled with pride!
Count of Toulouse, the more I consider the great ones, the

more I see you at the peak of merit; and I would that God
granted me as much His love as, beyond praise, your great
merit reigns supreme—only provided that, by the same token,
whoever now fails you be not received in your presence again.
La Marche, Foix, and Rodez have we seen fail in the first hour
of need! For this I accuse them in the name of honour and
valour,
Don quasqus si despuelha;
Qu’en tal sonalh
An mes batalh,
Don non tanh pretz los vuelha.
Ja mais no cug que.s desencrim,

Quar trop s’a levat peior crim,
Que.l de Caim,
Hom qui l’amor
Del ric senhor
De Toloz’era.s tuelha;
Quar, qui defalh
Nia senhor falh,
Greu er que no s’en duelha.
Sil reys Jacmes, cuy no mentim,

Complis so qu’elh e nos plevim,
Segon qu’auzim,
En gran dolor
Foran ab plor
Frances, qui qu’o desvuelha;
E quar defalh
Qu’ades no salh,
Totz lo mons lo.n reiruelha.
Engles, de flor
Faitz capelh o de fuelha! NS
No.us detz trebalh,

Neis qui.us assalh,
Tro qu’om tot vos o tuelha!
Pit: Non an tan dig li primier trobador

Ni fag d’amor,
Lai el temps qu’era guays,
Qu’enquera nos no fassam, apres lor,
Chans de valor,
Nous, plazens e verais;
Quar dir pot hom so qu’estat dig no sia,
Qu’estiers non es trobaires bos no fis over
of which each of them is stripped bare; and they’ve rung

out such a tune on their bells that it is not fitting that merit
should want anything to do with them.
I think that he’ll never prove himself guiltless, for he has

committed a crime worse than Cain’s, he who rejects now the
love of the great lord of Toulouse; because, if anyone defects
and fails his lord, then it will hardly be that he does not regret
it.
If King James, whom we have not belied, accomplished that

which he and we did pledge, then from what we hear the
French would be in great pain and in tears, no matter who disa-
vows it. But since he fails to sally forth straightway, everyone
turns a scornful eye on him.
You English, go on making hats of leaves or flowers! Don’t

trouble yourselves, not even if you’re attacked, till all has been
taken from you!
otis The early troubadours have not said and composed so much
on the subject of love, in the past when times were gay, that we
may not still, after them, compose songs worthwhile, new,
pleasant, and true; for one can say what may not have been
said, and in no other way is a troubadour good or fine
Tro fai sos chans guays, nous e gent assis,
Ab noels digz de nova mdestria.
Mas en chantan dizo.! comensador

Tant en amor
Que.! nous dirs torn’a fays.
Pero nou es, quan dizo li doctor
So que alhor
Chantan no dis hom mais,
E nou, qui ditz so qu’auzit non avia;
E nou, qwieu dic razo qu’om mais no dis,
Qu’amors m’a dat saber, qu’aissi.m noiris
Que s’om trobat non agues, trobaria.
Be.m platz qu’ieu chan, quan pes !a gran honor

Que.m ven d’amor,
E.n fassa ricx essais,
Quar tals recep mon chan e ma lauzor
Que a la flor
De la beutat que nays.
Pero be.us dic que mielhs creire deuria
Que sa beutatz desus del cel partis,
Que tan sembla obra de paradis
Qu’a penas par terrenals sa conhdia.
D’una re fan donas trop gran follor,

Quar lor amor ~
Menan ab tan loncx plays
Que quascuna, pus ve son amador
Fi, ses error,
Falh si Palonga mais.
Quar hom no viu tan quan faire solia,
Doncx convengra que.| mals costums n’issis
Del trop tarzar, qu’ieu no cre qu’om moris
Tan leu com fai, si d’amor si jauzia.
Trop fai son dan dona que.s do ricor

Quant hom d’amor
La comet, ni.s n’irays,
Que plus bel l’es que sofran preyador
Que si d’alhor over
but in making his songs gay, new, and nobly fashioned, with
new things to say with new art.
But in song the first poets say so much inspired by love that to
say anything new becomes difficult. Yet new it is when the
experts say that which nowhere else has been said in song
before, and new if someone says what he has never heard;
and new when I say things which no one has said, for love has
given me the knowledge and so instructs me that, had no one
made poetry, I would a poet be.
It pleases me well that I sing, now when I think of the great

honour which comes to me from love, and that I give fine proof
of it, because such a one receives my song and my praise who
has the flower of beauty, newly-born. On this account I tell you
indeed that I ought rather to believe that her beauty came
from heaven above, for it seems so like the work of paradise
that scarce does her loveliness appear terrestrial.
In one thing do ladies commit too great a folly, because they

spin out their love with such lengthy procedures that each one
of them, once she sees that her lover is noble and without fault,
does wrong if she then protracts it further. Because men live
not so long as they used to, it would be fitting that the low
practise of long delay should disappear, for I believe that men
would not die as soon as they do, if they had joy of love.
Great harm to herself does the lady who puts on fine airs when
a man woos her in love, and who thereat takes offence, for she
finds it better that humble suppliants should suffer than if, from
elsewhere,
Era.l peccatz savais.
Que tals n’i a, quays qu’om non 0 creiria
Ab que fos dig, qu’en fan assais fraydis;
Per qu’amors falh entr’elas e vilsis,
Quar tenon mal en car lor carestia.
Ieu am e blan dona on ges non cor

Enjans d’amor,
Per que no m’en biays,
Ni o dey far, qu’om la te per melhor
E per gensor;
Per qu’amors m’i atrays,
Qu’amans es fols quant en bon loc non tria,
Quar qui ama vilmen se eis aunis,
Qu’a las melhors deu hom esser aclis,
Don nais merces, valors e cortezia.
N’Esclarmonda, qui etz vos, e Na Guia,

Quascus dels noms d’ambas o devezis;
Que quecx dels noms es tan cars e tan fis,
Qu’om que.] mentau pueys non pren mal lo dia.
IV. No sap per que va son joy pus tarzan,

Ni fug ni gan
Dompna son amador, ~
Pus lo conoys be per bo servidor,
Senes error
En fag et en semblan.
Quar trop tarzar en dompney es follia,
Que mans amicx ne ven en dezesper,
Quar pueys no.s deu dompna de ren temer,
Pus ve l’amor ses fench’e ses bauzia.
Bona dompna, ab bel cors benestan,

Vos tray enan
Beutatz part la gensor,
E.us fai valer Valors part la melhor.
Pro.us fan d’onor:
Per so faitz lur coman. over
there were wicked sin. And there are such, though one would
not believe it even if it were said aloud, who of this give hate-
ful proof; wherefore love fails among them and is debased,
for wrongly they prize too high their preciousness.
I love and serve a lady in whom love knows no guile, and hence
I turn not from her, nor should I do so for she is considered the
best and the most noble; on this account love draws me to her,
for the lover is foolish who does not choose where there is
good, since he who loves cheaply brings shame on himself,
and one should be devoted to the best ladies, from whom are
born mercy, worth, and courtliness.
My lady Esclarmunda, who you are, and lady Guida, each of

your names reveals; for each of these names is so precious and
noble that he who is mindful of them cannnot then come to
harm, the day long.
IV. No lady has reason to delay her lover’s joy, to flee and to
avoid him, once she well knows him to be a good servant,
without fault in deed or semblance. For great delay in court-
ship is folly, and many a lover comes thereby to despair,
because a lady should not fear anything when once she sees
love without feint or deceit.
Good lady, fair and comely of person, Beauty sets you above
the most noble, and Worthiness affirms your worth above the
best. They do you much honour: do therefore as they bid you.
Valors vos ditz que fassatz ben tot dia,
Et Amors vol qu’ametz, non per dever,
Mas lo plus fi, ab qu’aya meyns poder;
Qu’on meyns er rics, mais vos 0 graziria.
Triat vos ai, dompna, mi ses enjan,

De bon talan
Que ben gar vostr’onor,
Si cum triet si ad emperador,
Senes temor,
Ja Fredericx antan;
Si eis s'i mes, quar hom tan no.y valia.
Atressi.us dic qu’om mi no.y pot valer,
Quar res, dompna, tan no.us ama, per ver;
Per so.us valh mais ieu qu’autre no faria.
Ben pot chauzir dompn’un sol fin aman,

Ses malestan,
Son par o pauc major;
Pero no falh si chauzis en menor,
Si.l ve valor,
Sol non pes lo baran.
Quar lo plus bas li grazis tota via
Mais que. plus ricx ni.l pars, si.l fa plazer,
Per que.l deu mielhs dompn’ab si retener,
Quar mais i a poder e senhoria.
<
Per ver vos jur, dompna, e.us pliu e.us man,
Quw’ieu non am tan
Ren cum vos, cuy honor;
Per que.n laissi mans bels plazers d’alhor.
Pro.y fas folor,
Mas be.m podetz aitan,
O neis cen tens esmendar, si.us plazia.
Pero ueymais vos deuria plazer;
Per que no.us platz, dompna? Qu’ieu fas saber
Qu’atressi.us er a far, coras que sia.
N’Esclarmunda, vostre noms signifia

Que vos donatz clardat al mon, per ver;
Et etz monda, que no fes non-dever.
Aitals etz, plan, com al ric nom tanhia.
4
Worthiness tells you to act always well, and Love wills that
you love, not out of duty, but the most true, even though he
should be less powerful; for the less eminent he is, the more
grateful to you would he be.
I have selected for you, lady, myself, without guile, and right
willing to defend well your honour, just as, without fear, years
ago, Frederick selected himself for Emperor; he put himself
forward because no one else was as worth it. In like wise, I tell
you that no one is as worth this as I, for no living thing, lady,
loves you so much, in truth; hence I am worth more to you
than any other would be.
A lady can well choose one true lover alone, without unseem-
liness, her equal or a little superior; and yet she is not at fault
if she chooses one more lowly, if she sees in him worthiness,
provided there’s no bar. For the lesser is always more grateful
to her than the greater or the equal, if she does him pleasure.
Hence should a lady rather retain him by her, for therein she
has more power and dominion.
In truth I swear to you, lady, and pledge and assure you, that
I love nothing as much as you, whom I honour; on this account
I renounce many fine pleasures from elsewhere. Therein I do
great folly, but for that you can well make me amends, and
even a hundred times over, if it so pleased you. Indeed it ought
to please you from_this moment forth; why does it not please
you, lady? For I tell you now that thus you will have to do, at
some time or another.
Lady Esclarmunda, your name signifies that you give light to

the world, in truth; and you are pure, for you do not that which
should not be done. You are such, clearly, as befits this
splendid name.
Ar ab lo coinde pascor,
Quan vei de bella color
Flors per vergiers e per pratz,
E aug chantar daus totz latz
Los auzeletz per doussor,
Vueilh far ab coindia
Chanso tal que sia
Plazens als enamoratz,
E a midons majormen,
Qe.m don’en trobar engenh.
Ben devon li amador

De bon cor servir amor,
Qar amors non es peccatz,
Anz es vertutz ge.ls malvatz
Fai bons, e.ll bo.n son meillor,
E met hom’en via
De ben far tot dia;
E d’amor mou castitatz,
Qar qi.n amor ben s’enten
Non pot far ge pueis mal renh.
E pos tant a de valor

Amors, ben fan gran follor
Las domnas on es beutatz,
Qar non amon los prezatz
Pos 0 connoisson en lor;
Qar pueis lor plairia
Jois e cortezia,
E chans e totz bels solatz,
Mas greu faran tan de sen
S’amors no las i empenh.
Amors, de vos fatz lauzor,

Q’amar mi fatz la gensor,
Don mi son tan aut pujatz
Qe.| morirs neis m’es onratz,
Tan es de nobla ricor.
E s’ieu joi n’avia,
Sai ge non morria;
Anz viuria gen pagatz. over
Now at graceful Easter-tide, when I see flowers of lovely

colour in meadows and fields, and on all sides I hear the young
birds sing in delight, I wish to make with grace a song such as
may please those enamoured, and above all my mistress, who
gives me skill in composing song.
Rightly should lovers with willing heart serve love, for love is
no sin, it is, rather, a virtue which renders good the wicked,
and the good are better by it, and it encourages one always to
act well; and from love is born purity, for he who rightly sets
his mind on love, it cannot be that he should then act basely.
And since love has such worth, they indeed do great folly,
those ladies in whom beauty dwells, because they love not men
of merit once they know them to be so; for then joy and
courtliness would please them, and song and all fair pleasure,
but they’ll hardly act so wisely unless love impels them
thereto.
Love, it is your praise I sing, for you cause me to love the most
noble—she through whom I’m so exalted that even death is to
me honourable, she is of such noble excellence. And if I had
joy from her, I know I would not die; rather I’d live, finely
rewarded.
Si non l’ai, morrai breumen,
Q’ieu l’am tan ge.! cor m’estenh.
Qi ve la fresca color
De vos, bella, cui ador,
E.ls uelhs vairs e.ls cilhs delgatz
[iesatesretnecrhait
an ene tat |
De natural resplandor;
Totz hom pert feunia,
Qi.us esgar’, amia.
E ieu, las, a cui mais platz,
Mueir, gan vei vostre cors gen,
D’enveia tan mi destrenh.
Fis pretz deschairia,

Si no.] sostenia
Lo reis Castellans onratz,
Qe fai totz sos faitz tan gen
Q’en ren non cal q’om l’ensenh.
VI. Per lo mon fan li un dels autres rancura,

Li clerc dels laycx e.] laic d’elhs yssamen;
E li poble.s planhon de desmezura
De lor senhors, e.l] senhor d’elhs, sden.
Aissi es ples lo mons de mal talent,
Mas ar venon sai deves Orien
Li Tartari, si Dieus non o defen,
Que.|s faran totz estar d’una mensura.
Per manh forfag e per manhta laidura

Qu’an fag, e fan, clerc e laic malamen,
Venra, si ve, esta dezaventura
A Crestias, s’a Dieu merces non pren,
Que fassa.]1 Papa metr’atempramen
En so don an li clerc e.] laic conten;
Quar s’el los fai ben d’un acordamen,
Non lor pot pueys nozer nulh’aventura. over
If I have it not, I’ll soon die, for I love her so much that my
heart grows faint.
He who sees your fresh complexion, fair one whom I adore,

and your bright eyes and their delicate lashes [.. .] of
natural splendour; every man loses ill-feeling if he beholds you,
beloved. And I, alas, to whom you are most pleasing, I die
when I see your fair person, with longing it so torments me.
Fine merit would decline if the honoured king of Castile did not
maintain it, for he does so graciously all that he does that he has
no need to be taught anything more.
VI. Throughout the world men find fault with one another, the
clerics with the laymen and the laymen with them, likewise;
and the people complain of their lords’ excesses, and the lords
often of them. Thus is the world full of ill-will, but now there
come from out of the East the Tartars who, unless God forbids
it, will reduce them all to a common measure.
Through many a crime and many an ugly deed which clerics

and laymen have done, and do, wickedly, will this disaster
come, if it comes, to Christendom, unless God takes pity and
makes the Pope bring to a settlement that over which the
clerics and the laymen quarrel; for if he well makes them of
one accord, then nothing can happen to harm them.
A! Per que vol clercx belha vestidura,
Ni per que vol viure tan ricamen,
Ni per que vol belha cavalgadura,
Qu’el sap que Dieus volc viure paubramen?
Ni per que vol tan l’autrui n’i enten,
Qu’el sap que tot quan met ni quan despen,
Part son manjar e son vestir vilmen,
Tolh als paubres, si no men la Scriptura?
E.] gran senhor, per que no prenden cura

Que no fasson tort ni fors’a lur gen?
Qu’ieu non tenc ges per menor desmezura
Qu’om forse.ls sieus cum quan l’autruy dreg pren;
Ans es mager, quar falhis doblamen,
Quar s’om de se ni d’autruy non defen
A son poder los sieus adrechamen,
Falh endreg lor tan que.n pert sa drechura.
Mas totz pobles a de bon sen frachura,

Qu’a son senhor fass’en re falhimen,
Quar totz hom deu amar d’amistat pura
Son bon senhor, e servir leyalmen;
E senher tanh qu’am los sieus bonamen,
Que lialtatz lor ne fai mandamen
Que l’us ame I’autre tan coralmen
Que no se puesc entr’els metre falsura.
Reys Castellas, l’emperis vos aten,

Mas sai dizon, senher, qu’atendemen
Fai de Breto, per que.s mou grans rancura.
Que d’aut rey tanh, quant un gran fag enpren,

Que.] trag’a cap o.n segua l’aventura.
Ah! Why does the cleric want fine raiments, and why does he
want to live so splendidly, and why does he want a fine stable
of horses, when he knows that God was willing to live in
poverty ?And why does he want so much of another’s goods,
and sets his heart on them, when he knows that all that he
disburses and all that he spends, apart from his food and his
clothing alone, he takes from the poor, according to the
Scriptures ?
And the great lords, why do they not take care not to do wrong
or violence to their own people? For I hold it by no means a
lesser excess to do violence to one’s own people than to usurp
another’s right; rather it’s greater, for one is doubly at fault
because, if a man protects not from himself or from another his
own people, as justly as he is able, then he fails them so much
that he loses thereby all his rights.
But any people has a lack of good sense if in anything they fail
their lord, for every man should love with pure love his right-
ful lord and serve him loyally. And it is fitting that a lord love
with good heart his people, for loyalty commands them in this
to love one another so cordially that falseness could not come
between them.
King of Castile, the Empire awaits you, but here they are
saying, Sire, that it is a Breton’s wait, because of which there
arises great blame. -
For it behoves a mighty king, when he undertakes a great deed,

to see it through or submit to whatever befalls.
‘Peire (ardenal
LiFe. According to an early biographer writing c. 1300, Peire

Cardenal belonged to a well-to-do family of Le Puy, studied
at the cathedral college of that city in preparation for an
ecclesiastical career but, on reaching manhood, beguiled by
the world’s vanities, became a troubadour; together with his
minstrel he visited the courts of kings and barons and, when he
died, was nearly 100 years old. Contemporary documents
attest the presence at Le Puy of an important Cardenal
family, while Peire’s own work confirms other details of this
account, as well as indicating that the poet was probably
married, with children, by the early 1230s. Furthermore, of
the few poems which can be dated with any certainty, the
earliest seems to belong to the year 1216, the latest to c. 1271.
Other aspects of the poet’s life, however, remain somewhat
problematic. A few flattering references to the court of
Toulouse, an interest in the local affairs of Le Puy, and the
isolated praise of such men as James of Aragon and Edward
of England scarcely suffice to make clear which courts the poet
actually frequented and when, or which noblemen accorded
him their favour and protection. As for his reported longevity,
though just possible—in which case he might well be the
Petrus Cardinalis mentioned as a scribe at the court of Toulouse
in 1204—it is so unusual that one would have expected some
further contemporary comment. On the contrary, no thirteenth
century troubadour seems to have known, or known
of, Peire Cardenal, and he himself gives few hints at the
material circumstances of his life. Nevertheless, of all the
later troubadours, he is one of the few really dominant
figures. His life spans the whole of that period during which
the culture of the Midi waned, and was finally destroyed,
under the pressure of historical events, and his work, which is
in essence a vigorous reaction to those events, represents
the last flamboyant flowering of southern French poetry.
WORKS. Some ninety-six compositions are now attributed
to Peire Cardenal, and although at least fifteen of these are of
doubtful authenticity, he remains one of the most prolific of all
the troubadours. In his work one notes, firstly, a relative
abundance of cob/as, terse, epigrammatic pieces of one or two
stanzas only which, for the most part, summarize themes
treated at length elsewhere; secondly, a rarity of both cansos
and minor ‘communal’ forms—of the three songs inspired by
love two at least are satirical in intent, while the one senso and
the one partimen in which Peire Cardenal took part are both
of questionable attribution; and, lastly, a scattering of rare,
unusual genres such as the estribot, the descort, two ‘sermons’
in multi-stanza form, two purely religious, hymn-like, com-
positions, etc. All these minor or isolated pieces, however, are
subsidiary to the major part of his work, consisting of nearly
sixty sirventés, moral, social, political and personal, which date
from all periods of his life. Adopting a standpoint in which the
most authentic religious convictions are fused with the highest
ideals of courtliness, and varying in tone from light-hearted
jocularity to earnest exhortation and, further, to harsh and
forceful invective, the poet reviews not only great historical
events and processes such as the Albigensian Crusade, the
Inquisition and the northern French occupation, but also the
crimes, vices, and foibles of individuals, types, and social
groups. Sharpness of moral and material perception combines
with a vigour and economy of expression to create a total
vision of man’s social, moral and spiritual condition. Individual,
particular and subjective this vision may well be, to a large
extent, but, in its scope, in its coherence, and in its artistically
convincing formulation it remains unsurpassed by any other
mediaeval poet, and comparable only to that of a Marcabrun,
a Rutebeuf or a Francois Villon.
EDITION. R. Lavaud Poésies completes du troubadour Peire
Cardenal (Toulouse 1957).
SELECTION. The first piece (Lavaud No. 2) is one of Peire
Cardenal’s few cansos: rejecting the exaggerations of con-
temporary troubadours and reaffirming the original ideal of
mutual devotion and loyalty, it neatly summarizes the poet’s
concept of courtly love. In much the same way, the second
piece (Lavaud No. 60) is, by its formal and thematic structure,
4
Peire Cardenal 281
eminently representative of a large number of the poet’s

surventés; the characteristic failings of various social groups
are highlighted against a background of earnestly propounded,
conventional, christian morality, and a fine balance is achieved
between the wide scope of the thematic material and the
economical pointedness and simplicity of its formulation. To it,
the next poem (Lavaud no. 27), one of a limited number of
personal sirventés, stands in strong contrast. Here, one indivi-
dual is the object of the poet’s detailed and heavily ironic stric-
tures, although its effect is inno way diminished by the fact that
little is now known of that individual apart from what the
poet alleges. The facts of the case, doubtless well known to
Peire’s contemporaries, are here as elsewhere simply grounds
on which to construct yet another indictment of the ways of
the world. Alongside the decline of courtliness which, for the
poet, leads to such crime, the betrayal of religion by a corrupt
and hypocritical clergy provides a second dominant theme, of
which the next three sirventés (Lavaud Nos. 74, 28, 34) are
certainly among the most lastingly impressive formulations.
In the first, the sharp violence of the opening stanza gradually
gives way, through an ever-widening contemplation of society
and of man’s condition, to the gentle calm of the closing prayer;
in the second, the mood of unrelentingly concentrated satire
is sustained throughout by an extraordinary tightness and
density of expression, while in the third poem, the eséribot, of
which only one other example is known, the attack is launched
in massively solid blocks of alexandrines, unsupported by any
melody and each ending in the harsh, hammer-like rime in -azz.
In all three, unity and coherence of inspiration are no less per-
ceptible than the rich variety of the poet’s artistic resources.
The last two poems, finally (Lavaud Nos. 36, 30), represent
more direct and positive expressions of Peire Cardenal’s moral-
religious concepts, and each, in its distinctive way, is marked
by that fusion of the personal, social and spiritual planes
which endows his work with its characteristic totality of
vision. The jestingly truculent tone of the first gives added
point to the serious moral and religious problems which under-
lie it, while the second, for all its seemingly objective didacti-
cism and its conventional scholastic imagery, still corresponds
both in mood and substance to the poet’s most personal and
essential inspiration.
Ben teinh per fol e per muzart
Cel qu’ab amor se lia,
Quar en amor pren peior part
Aquel que plus s’i fia;
Tals se cuida calfar que s’art.
Los bes d’amor a hom a tart
E.ls mals a cascun dia;
Li fol e.1 fellon, e.l moyssart,
Aquil an sa paria,
Per quieu m’en part.
Ja m’amia no mi tenra
Si ieu leis non tenia;
Ni ja de me non jauzira
S’ieu de leis non jauzia.
Conseilh n’ai pres, bon e certa:
Farai li segon que.m fara.
E s’ella mi galia
Galiador mi trobara,
E si.m vai dreita via,
Teu Virai pla.
Anc non gazanhei tan gran re

Con quam perdei ma mia;
Quar, perden leis, gazanhei me,
Qwil gazainhat m’avia.
Petit gazainha qui pert se,
Mas qui pert so que dan li te,
Ieu cre que gazainhs sia.
Qu’ieu m’era donatz, per ma fe,
A tal que.m destruzia,
Non sai per que.
Donan me, mes en sa merce

Mi, mon cor, e ma via—
De leis, que.m vir’e.m desmante
Per autrui, e.m cambia!
Qui dona mais que non rete
Et ama mais autrui que se,
Chauzis avol partia, over
Peire Cardenal 283
I hold him indeed for a fool and timewaster who joins com-
pany with love, for in love he has the worst who most trusts in
it; such a one thinks to get warm who burns himself. The good
things of love one has tardily, and the bad things every day;
the fools, the felons and the tricksters, these have its friend-
ship and so I part from it.
Never will my mistress possess me if I possessed her not; nor

will she ever have joy of me if I had not joy of her. ’ve made
a decision, good and sure: I’ll treat her as she treats me. Then
if she deceives me she'll find me a deceiver, and if she goes
straight for me, for her I'll go smoothly.
I never won anything so great as when I lost my mistress; for,

losing her, I won back myself when she had won me over. He
wins little who loses himself, but if one loses that which does
one harm, then I think that it’s a gain. For I had given myself,
in faith, to one such who was destroying me, I know not why.
Giving myself, at her mercy I put myself, my heart, and my life

—hers, who casts me aside, and abandons and changes me for
another! He who gives more than he keeps and loves another
more than himself chooses a bad deal,
Quan de se no.ilh cal ni.l sove,
E per aco s oblia
Que pro no.ilh te.
De leis pren comjat per jasse,

Que ja mais sieus non sia;
Qu’anc jorn no.i trobei lei ni fe,
Mas engan e bauzia.
Ai! Doussors plena de vere,
Qu’amors eissorba sel que ve
E losta de sa via,
&
Quant ama so qu’ilh descove,
E so qu’amar deuria
Gurp e mescre!
De leial amia cove

Qu’om leials amics sia;
Mas de leis estaria be
Qu’en galiar se fia,
Qu’om galies, quan sap de que.
Per qu’a mi plai quan s’esdeve
Qu’eu trob qui la galia,
E garda sa honor e se
De dan e de folia,
E.il tira.] fre.
Ls Mon chantar vueil retraire al comunal

De totas gens, e si. deinhon auzir,
Ni lentendon ni.l sabon devezir,
Cascuns poira trair lo ben del mal.
Que cobeitatz a tant sazit en brieu
Lo mon que no.i cor dregz, ni temon Dieu,
Ni no.i trob’om merce, ni chauzimen,
Ni vergoinha, ab lo plus de la gen.
Rei e comte, bailho e senescal,

Volo.ls castels e las terras sazir
A lur acort, e paubra gent delir;
E li baro son, li plus, atretal, over
Peire Cardenal 285
since he has no care or thought for himself, and he is self-

forgetful for that which profits him not.
Of her I take my leave for ever, so that I may never more be

hers; for at no time found I in her fairness or faith, only guile
and deceit. Ah! Sweetness, full of venom, how love blinds the
seeing man and leads him astray when he loves that which ill
behoves him, and that which he ought to love quits and
distrusts !
With a loyal mistress it behoves that one be a loyal lover; but

with her who relies on deception, it would be well to deceive,
when one has good reason. And so I’m pleased when it hap-
pens that I find one who deceives her, who guards himself and
his honour from harm and folly, and keeps her on tight rein.
HT. I want to recite my song to all peoples in common, and if they

deign to hear it and understand it and can construe it, each
will be able to distinguish good from evil. Now, greed has in
short so seized the world that right’s writ runs not there, and
they fear not God. Nor does one find there pity, indulgence,
or modesty, in the majority of people.
Kings and counts, bailiffs and seneschals, seek to seize castles

and lands at their pleasure, and to plunder the poor; and the
barons are, most of them, just the same,
Que cascuns ditz: ieu penrai d’aco mieu.
E ab tot son plus paure que romieu,
E non tenon vertat ni sagramen,
E nos autre em d’aquel mezeis sen.
Clerzia vol, trastot l’an per egal,

Ab cobeitat gen caussar e vestir;
E.] gran prelat volo.s tant enantir
Que ses razon alargan lor deptal.
E si tenes del lor un onrat fieu,
Volran l’aver, e no.l cobraretz lieu
Si non lor datz une soma d’argen,
O non lor faitz plus estreg covinen.
Si morgue nier vol Dieus que sian sal

Per trop manjar, ni per femnas tenir,
Ni monge blanc per bolas a mentir,
Ni per erguelh Temple ni Espital,
Ni canorgue per prestar a renieu,
Ben tenc per fols san Peire e sant Andrieu
Que sufriron per Dieu tan gran turmen,
S’aquist venon aissi a salvamen.
Si capellan per trop beure anéal,

Ni legistas per tort a mantenir,
Ni albergier per lor oste trair, _
Ni logadier per falsar lor jornal,
Ni regidor ni baile ni corrieu
Rauban la gen si salvan, no cre ieu
Que Menudet non reinhon follamen,
E sil qu’estan confes e peneden.
Revendedor, obrier e menestral,

Iran ab Dieu, so lor o vol sufrir,
Ab car vendre e ab menten plevir;
E camjador e home de portal
E renoier atressi com Juzieu,
E noirigier panan so c’om lor plieu,
Laorador terras sensals menten,
Obran festas e faitilhas crezen. over
Peire Cardenal 287
for each one says ‘I'll take some of that for my own’. And with
all that they’re poorer than pilgrims, and they keep not to truth
nor to their oath, and we ourselves are of the selfsame mind.
The clergy want, all through the year the same, in their greed
to be well-shod and clad; and the great prelates seek such self-
advancement that without reason they put up their dues. If you
hold of theirs a fief in honour, they’ll want to have it, and you'll
not recover it easily unless you give them a deal of money, or
make in their favour a more stringent bond.
If God desires that the black monks be saved by over-eating

and by keeping women, and the white monks by making
boundary-stones lie, the Temple and the Hospital by pride,
and canons by lending on interest, then I indeed hold for fools
Saint Peter and Saint Andrew who suffered for God such great
torment, if all those come thus to salvation.
If chaplains by drinking too much on feast-days, and lawyers

by upholding wrong, and innkeepers by cheating their
customers, hirelings by fiddling the daybook, and if stewards
and bailiffs and emissaries by robbing people are saved, then
I believe not that Friars Minors behave not like fools, and those
who stand confessed and penitent.
Retailers, labourers, and artisans, they'll go with God, if He

permits it them, by selling dear and making false pledges; and
money-changers and traffickers and usurers like Jews, and
herdsmen stealing from what is entrusted to them, ploughmen
lying about taxable lands, working on feast-days and believing
sorcerers’ spells.
A tota gen darai conseil leial,
Si tot no.] sai a mos ops retenir:
Que cadaiis volgues ben far e dir
A son poder. Car plus de bon captal
Non portarem escrit en nostre brieu,
Can nos n’irem e rendrem comte grieu
De totz los faitz, al jorn del jutjamen,
Al franc senhor que.ns formet de nien.
Ges qui.m repren mon chantar no m’es grieu,

Car man far ben, si tot n’en fauc pauc ieu;
Ab que la gen renhesson ben e gen,
Pois pogran dir: de fol apren hom sen.
ry: Un sirventes ai en cor que comens

Que cantarai al despieg de trachors,
En que dirai blasmes e dezonors
E trassions, a miliers e a cens.
Car, si Caims a del segle semensa,
Esteves cre que fos de sa naissensa,
Qu’az Aénac fes tals tres trassios
Que non fera Judas, ni Gainelos.
Quar aquil dui trairon en vendens;

L’un vendet Crist e Pautr’els ponhedors,
E.s feron fort descauzitz vendedors.
Mas Esteves trais en aucizens,
Qu’anc sos pairis non i trobet guirensa,
Ni sos fillols, don fes tal descrezensa
Qu’a lur disnar los aucis ambedos.
E pres lur ben quar l’avian somos!
Quant Esteves vai vezer sos parens,

E] fa semblans que lur aia amors;
E ten auzels e cans e cassadors,
E fai si mot amoros e rizens,
E vai manjar ab bella captenensa. over
Peire Cardenal 289
To all people I'll give true advice, though I don’t know how
to follow it for my own good: that each one be willing to act
and speak as well as he is able. For more to our credit shall we
not have written down in the record, when we depart and give
dire account of all deeds, that day of Judgement, to the noble
Lord who made us from naught.
By no means if one blames my song does it bother me, for I

commend good to be done, even though I do little myself; pro-
vided that people behaved well and rightly, then they could
say ‘from a fool can a man learn sense’.
. I have in mind to begin a sirventes which I’ll sing in despite of

traitors, wherein I’ll speak of blames and dishonours and
treacheries, by the hundreds and thousands. For, if Cain has
offspring in this world, I believe that Stephen was born of his
line, since at Eynac he did three deeds of treachery such as
Judas would not have done, nor Guanelon.
For these two betrayed in selling out; one sold Christ and the
other the warriors, and they made themselves most vile
vendors. But Stephen betrayed in killing, and his godfather
never had a chance against him, nor his godson, for on them
he wrought such betrayal of trust as to kill them both while
they were at dinner. Much good it did them to have invited
him!
When Stephen goes to see his kinsfolk, he makes a show of

having love for them; he brings birds and dogs and hunters,
and behaves most lovingly and smilingly, and goes to eat in
gracious manner.
E, quant il an en servir entendensa,
El salh en pes com trachers desuptos,
E auci cuecx e portiers e bailos.
Esteves es, a for dels aguilens,

Gros e redons, ples de malas humors,
E es dels fins trachors del mon la flors.
Per que l’agr’ops us fort grans pendemens,
Mas als pendutz seria viltenensa,
Si el era de lur obediensa,
Nisela claustra era rezensios,
Quar anc no.i ac pendutz que tan fals fos.
Esteves fes, ’autrier, us ignocens,

Quan fazia martirs e confessors
Az Aénac; e fes enguanadors,
E fes trachors tot ab uns ferramens!
Mas aras fai hueimais tal penedensa:
Qu’el fa ergueilz e las guerras comensa,
E alberga las tozas e.ls lairos,
E embla buous e froment e bacos.
Esteves, cant penras ta penedensa

Al capelan, diguas en passiensa
Dels sirventes que t’ai fach un o dos;
Qu’adoncx poira auzir tas trassios!
IV. Tartarassa ni voutor

No sent tan leu carn puden
Quom clerc e prezicador
Senton ont es lo manen.
Mantenen son sei privat,
E quant malautia.! bat,
Fan li far donassio
Tal que.l paren no.i an pro. over
Peire Cardenal 291
Then, when they are busy serving he leaps to his feet, like the
sudden traitor he is, and kills the cooks and the doormen and
the stewards.
Stephen is, in the manner of the eglantine, plump and round

and full of horrid humours, and of the world’s cunning traitors
he’s the flower. For this a mighty hanging would serve him
well, except it would be an insult to all men hanged if he were
to be of their number, and if that cloister were to be his redemp-
tion, for there was never hanged one who was so false.
Stephen acted, the other day, like an innocent, when he was

making martyrs and penitents at Eynac; he behaved like a
trickster and a traitor, all with the same set of irons! Yet now
such is the penance he does henceforth: he lords it proudly
and stirs up trouble, and harbours loose women and robbers,
and steals oxen and wheat and pickled pork.
Stephen, when you take your penance of the chaplain, just

tell him, in patience, one or two of the poems I’ve made for
you; then he’ll be able to hear about your treacheries!
Neither buzzard nor vulture smells stinking flesh so soon as

clergy and preaching friars smell out where the rich man is.
Straightway they’re his friends, and, when sickness strikes
him, they have him make a bequest such that his kinsfolk gain
from it naught.
Franses e clerc an lauzor
De mal, quar ben lur en pren;
E renovier e trachor
An tot lo segl’eissamen,
C’ab mentir et ab barat
An si tot lo mon torbat
Que no.ia religio
Que no.n sapcha sa leisso.
Saps qu’endeven la ricor

De sels que l’an malamen ?
Venra un fort raubador
Que non lur laissara ren;
So es la mortz, que.ls abat,
C’ab catr’aunas de filat
Los tramet en tal maizo
Ont atrobon de mal pro.
Hom, per que fas tal follor

Que passes lo mandamen
De Dieu, quez es ton senhor
E va format de nien?
La trueia ten al mercat
Sel que ab Dieu si combat,
Que.| n’aura tal guizardo
Com ac Judas lo fello.
Dieus verais, plens de doussor,

Senher, sias nos guiren!
Gardas d’enfernal dolor
Peccadors, e de turmen;
E solves los del peccat
En que son pres e liat,
E faitz lur veray perdo,
Ab vera confessio!
Peire Cardenal 293
Frenchmen and clergy are renowned for their evil, because it

works well for them; and usurers and traitors possess all the
world likewise, for with lying and cheating they’ve so con-
fused everyone that there’s no religious order which learns not
its lessons from them.
Know you what becomes of the wealth of those who come by

it evilly? There'll come a great robber who'll leave them
nothing; that is, death, who strikes them down and in four yards
of winding-sheet dispatches them to such a dwelling where
they find pain in abundance.
Man, why do you such folly as to transgress the law of God

Who is your Lord and Who made you from nothing?He takes
his sow to market who contends with God, and from it will
have such deserts as had Judas the traitor.
True God, full of sweetness, Lord, be our protector! Preserve

from hell’s anguish all sinners, and from torment; and free
them from the sin in which they are caught and bound, and
grant them true pardon, with true confession.
Ab votz d’angel, lengu’esperta, non bleza;
Ab motz sotils, plans plus c’obra d’engles,
Ben assetatz, ben ditz e sens repreza,
Miels escoutatz, ses tossir, que apres;
Ab plans, sanglotz, mostran la via
De Jhesu-Christ que quex deuria
Tener, com el per nos la volc tener,
Van prezican com puescam Dieu vezer.
Si non, con il, mangem la bona freza;

E.] mortairol si batut c’o.] begues,
E.1 gras sabrier de galina pageza
E, d’autra part, jove jusvert ab bles,
E vin qui millior non poiria,
Don Franses plus leu s’enebria.
S’ab bel vieure, vestir, manjar, jazer
Conquer hom Dieu, be.! poden conquerer . . .
Aissi con cill que bevon la serveza,

E manjo.! pan de juel e de regres;
E.] bro del gras buou lur fai gran fereza,
Et onchura d’oli non volon ges,
Ni peis fresc gras de pescaria,
Ni broet ni salsa que fria.
Per qu’ieu conseil qui.n Dieu a son esper
C’ab lurs condutz passe—qui.n pot aver!
Religios fon, li premieir’, enpreza

Per gent que treu ni bruida non volgues;
Mas Jacopin apres manjar n’an queza,
Ans desputan del vin, cals mieillers es.
Et an de plaitz cort establia
Et es Vaudes qui.ls ne desvia;
E los secretz d’ome volon saber,
Per tal que miels si puescan far temer.
Esperitals non es la lur paubreza;

Gardan Io lor, prenon so que mieus es.
Per mols gonels, tescutz de lan’engleza,
Laisson selis car trop aspre lur es. over
Peire Cardenal 295
With angel’s voice, with expert tongue not lisping; with
subtle words, smoother than English cloth, well placed, well
said, without repeat, more listened to, without a cough, than
taken to heart; with moans, with sobs, showing the way of
Jesus Christ which each should keep to as He was willing to
keep to it for us, they go preaching how we might see God.
If we don’t, then like them let us eat fine fare; purée so pulped
that you could drink it, and the thick soup of a good farm
chicken and, added to that, young verjuice with chards, and
wine which couldn’t be better, such as a Frenchman would get
drunk on most quickly. If by fine living, dressing, eating and
sleeping, one wins God, then they can as well win Him...
. . as they who drink small beer, and eat bread of wholemeal

and bran; who are frightened to ask for fat beef broth and
don’t even wish for seasoning of oil, for fat fresh fish from the
fishpool, for broth or simmering sauce. Wherefore I advise
whoever in God has his hope that he should feed on their
dishes—if he can get them!
There was a religious order, the first, founded by men who

would have neither uproar nor noise; but the Jacobins, after
meals, do not keep silent, but rather argue about which is the
better wine. And they’ve established courts of inquiry, and
anyone’s a Valdensian who deters them therefrom; they want
to know a man’s secrets, so that they may better make them-
selves feared.
Their poverty is not the spiritual one; keeping what’s theirs,

they take that which is mine. For soft tunics, woven in English
wool, they quit the haircloth because that’s too rough for them.
Ni parton ges lur draparia

Aissi com sains Martins fazia;
Mas almornas, de c’om sol sostener
La paura gent, volon totas aver.
Ab prims vestirs, amples, ab capa teza—

D’un camelin d’estiu, d’invern espes;
Ab prims caussatz, solatz a la francesa
Can fai gran freg, de fin cuer marselhes,
Ben ferm liatz per maistria—
Car mal liars es grans follia—
Van prezicant, ab lur sotil saber,
Qu’en Dieu servir metam cor e aver.
S’ieu fos maritz mot agra gran fereza

C’oms desbraiatz lonc ma moiller segues;
Qu’ellas e il an faudas d’un’ampleza,
E fuoc ab grais fort leumen s’es empres.
De Beguinas re no.us diria;
Tals es turgua que fructifia.
Tals miracles fan, aiso sai per ver:
De sainz paires saint podon esser l’er.
Wile Un estribot farai que er mot maistratz,

De motz novels e d’al, e de divinitatz.
Qu’ieu ai en Dieu crezensa que fon de maire natz,

D’una santa pieusela, per que.l mons es salvatz.
E es paire e filhs e santa trinitatz,
E es en tres personas e una unitatz.
E cre que.| cels e.l tros ne fos per el traucatz,
E.n trabuquet los angels can los trobet dampnatz.
E crey que sans Jéans lo tenc entre sos bratz
E.] bateget en Paigua el flum, can fo propchatz;
E conoc be la senha abanchas que fo natz:
EI ventre de sa maire que.s volc al destre latz.
E cre Rom’e sant Peire a cuy fon comandatz
Jutge de penedensa, de sen e de foldatz. over
Peire Cardenal 297
Nor do they share at all their cloak like Saint Martin did; and
as for alms, by which one used to sustain the poor, they want
to have them all.
With fine-spun, ample robes, with spreading capes—of camlet

cloth in summer, in winter thick; with fine-made footwear,
soled in the French style when it’s very cold, of good Marseil-
les leather, well and truly stitched with a master’s craft—for
loose stitching’s a terrible waste—they go preaching with
their subtle science, that we should devote to God’s service
heart and possessions.
If I were a husband I’d be most frightened that a man without

breeks should sit alongside my wife; for the women and they
have skirts of the same fulness, and fire with fat most easily
bursts into flame. Of the Béguine nuns, I'll tell you naught;
such a one’s barren who then bears fruit. Such miracles do
they work, I know this for certain: of saintly fathers can
saints be the sons and heirs!
VI. I'll write an ‘estribot’ which will be most masterly wrought, of

new things to say and of others, and of divinity’s lore.
I have in God my belief Who was born of mother, of a holy

maiden, and through Whom the world is saved. And He is
Father and Son and Holy Trinity, and He is in three persons
and in one Unity. And I believe that heaven and its vault were
by Him rent asunder, and that He cast down the angels when
He found them corrupt. I believe, too, that Saint John held Him
in his arms and baptized Him in the river’s water, when He had
drawn near; he well knew the sign even before he was born,
for in his mother’s womb he leapt on his right side. And I
believe Rome and Saint Peter, to whom was commended the
judgement of penitence, of wisdom and of folly.
Mas so non crezon clergue, que fan las falcetatz,
Que son larc d’aver penre et escas de bontatz.
E son bel per la cara et ore de peccatz,
E devedon als autres d’aco que fan lurs atz,
E en loc de matinas an us ordes trobatz
Que jazon ab putanas tro. solelhs es levatz,
Enans canton baladas e prozels trasgitatz;
Abans conquerran Dieu Caifas o Pilatz!
Monge solon estar dins los mostiers serratz,

On azoravan Dieu denan las magestatz;
E can son en las vilas on an lurs péestatz,
Si avetz bela femna o es homs molheratz,
El seran cobertor, si.eus peza 0 si.eus platz.
E can el son desus e.1 cons es sagelatz
Ab las bolas redondas que pendon al matratz,
Con las letras son clausas e lo traucs es serratz,
D’aqui eyson liretge e li essabatatz,
Que juron e renegon e jogon a tres datz.
Aiso fan monge negre en loc de caritatz!
Mon estribot fenisc que es tot compassatz,

C’ai trag de gramatica e de divinitatz;
E si mal o ai dig, que.m sia perdonatz,
Que yeu o dic per Dieu, qu’en sia pus amatz,
E per mal estribatz ~~
Clergues.
VII. Un sirventes novel vueill comensar

Que retrairai al jor del jujamen
A sel que.m fes e.m formet de nien.
S’el me cuja de ren arazonar,
E s’el me vol metr’en la diablia,
Teu li dirai : “Seinher, merce, non sia!
Qu’el mal segle tormentiei totz mos ans;
E guardas mi, si.us plas, dels tormentans.’ over
Peire Cardenal 299
But this the clergy believe not, who do false things, who are
open-handed in taking wealth and tight-fisted in bounty. They
are fair of face and foul in sins, and forbid others that with
which they suit themselves. And in place of matins they’ve
devised a service where they lie abed with whores till the sun
is up, and before that they sing ballads and sprightly versets;
Caiaphas and Pilate will sooner win God!
Monks used to live confined within the monasteries, where

they adored God before the holy images; now, when they’re
in the towns where they have their strongholds, if you’ve a fair
woman or if you’re a married man, they'll be the ones to do the
covering, whether you like it or not. And when they’re
mounted and the cunt is sealed with the round balls which hang
from their prick, asa letter is closed and the opening shut, then
from that are born the heretics and Valdensians who curse and
renegue and play with three dice. This the black monks do
instead of charity!
I finish my ‘estribot’, now fully encompassed, which I have

drawn from grammar and divinity; and if I’ve spoken it ill, be
it forgiven me, for I say it for God’s sake that He might the
more be loved, and for the sake of evil-goaded clergy.
iy IT. I want to begin a new sirventes which I'll recite on Judgement

Day to Him Who made and fashioned me from naught. If He
thinks to arraign me for anything and if He wants to send me
to devildom, I’ll say to Him: ‘Lord, mercy, let that not be!
For in the wicked world I was tormented all my days; and so
preserve me, if it please You, from the tormentors.’
Tota sa cort farai meravillar
Cant auziran lo mieu plaideiamen,
Qu’eu dic qu’el fa ves los sieus faillimen
Si los cuja delir ni enfernar.
Car qui pert so que gazanhar poiria,
Per bon dreg a de viutat carestia,
Qu’el deu esser dous e multiplicans
De retener las armas trespassans.
Los diables degra dezeretar,

Et agra mais d’armas, e plus soven,
E.] dezeretz plagra a tota gen
Et el mezeis pogra s’o perdonar.
Car per mon grat trastotz los destruiria
Pos tut sabem c’absolver s’en poiria.
Bels seinhers Dieus, sias dezeretans
Dels enemix enuios e pezans!
Vostra porta non degras ja vedar,

Que sans Peires i pren trop d’aunimen
Que n’es portiers; mas que intres rizen
Tota arma que lai volgues intrar,
Car nuilla cortz non er ja ben complia
Que l’uns en plor e que lautre en ria.
E sitot ses sobeirans reis poissans,
Si no m’ubres, er vos en fatz demans.
.
leu no me vueill de vos dezesperar,
Anz ai en vos mon bon esperamen
Que me vaillas a mon trespassamen;
Per que deves m’arm’e mon cors salvar.
E farai vos una bella partia:
Que.m tornetz lai don moc lo premier dia,
O que.m siatz de mos tortz perdonans,
Quieu no.ls feira si non fos natz enans.
S’ieu ai sai mal et en enfern /’avia,

Segon ma fe tortz e peccatz seria!
Qu’ieu vos puesc ben esser recastenans
Que, per un ben, ai de mal mil aitans. over
Peire Cardenal gol
I'll set His whole court agog when they hear my pleading, and
I say that He fails His own if He thinks to destroy them or send
them to hell. Because he who loses what he could gain has,
most rightly, a dearth of what’s abundant, He should then be
gentle and solicitous to take to Himself the souls of the dead.
He should dispossess the devils, then He would have more

souls, and more often; and the dispossession would please all
people, and He Himself could permit Himself it. For it would
be to my pleasing that He destroyed them all, since we all
know that He could absolve Himself for it. Fair Lord God, be
You the dispossessor of the hurtful and grievous fiends!
You ought not to bar Your gate, for Saint Peter who is its
keeper suffers thereby great shame; but let there enter,
smiling, every soul who would therein enter, for no court will
ever indeed be complete if one weeps for it while another
laughs. And though You are the sovereign, mighty King, if
You open not for me, a complaint will be laid against You.
I do not want to despair of You, but rather have in You all my

good hope that You may avail me at my death; wherefore You
should save my body and my soul. I’ll make You a fair deal:
either You return me there whence I sprang on my first day,
or You forgive me my wrongs, for I would not have done them
had I not first been born.
If I have pain here and had it in hell, by my faith that would be

a wrong and a sin! For I can indeed charge this against You,
that for one good I have a thousand times as much pain.
Per merce.us prec, donna sancta Maria,
C’al vostre fill mi fassas garentia,
Si qu’el prenda lo paire e.ls enfans
E.ls meta lay on esta sans Johans.
VIII. Dels quatre caps que a la crotz,

Ten l’us sus vas lo fermamen,
L’autre vas abis, selh de jos;
E [autre ten vas orien,
E l’autre ten vas occiden;
E per aital entresenha
Que Cristz o a tot en poder.
La crotz es lo dreitz gofainos

Del rey cuy tot cant es apen,
Qu’om deu seguir totas sazos,
Las stias volontatz fazen.
Car qui mais y fay mais y pren,
E totz homs qu’ab lui se tenha
Es segurs de bon loc aver.
Cristz mori en la crotz per nos,

E destruis nostra mort, moren;
E en crotz venset l’ergulhos,
El leinh on vensia la gen.
Et en crotz obret salvamen,
Et en crotz renhet e renha,
Et en crotz nos vole rezemer.
Aquest fagz fo meravilhos,

Qu’el leinh on pres mortz naissemen,
Nos nasquet vida e perdos,
E repaus en loc de tormen.
En crotz pot trobar veramen
Totz homs, que querre l’i denha,
Lo frug del albre de saber. over
Peire Cardenal 303
For mercy’s sake I pray you, my Lady, Holy Mary, that with
your son you be my guarantee, that He might take the father
and the children and set them there where dwells Saint John.
Vill. Of the four arms which the cross has, one points up towards
the firmament, another towards the abyss, the one beneath;
one points towards the orient, and the other towards the west;
and by such it signifies that Christ has all in His power.
The cross is the rightful banner of the king to Whom all that
there is belongs, and Whom one should at all times follow,
doing whatever He wills. For he who does more thereof gains
therefrom the more, and any man who keeps His company is
sure to have a good home.
Christ died on the cross for us and, dying, destroyed our death;
and on the cross He vanquished the proud one, on that piece of
wood where he used to vanquish men. And on the cross He
wrought salvation, on the cross He reigned and does reign,
and on the cross He was willing to redeem us.
This fact was miraculous, that on that wood where death had
its birth, there was for us born life and forgiveness, and rest in
place of torment. On the cross can every man truly find, if he
deigns to seek it, the fruit of the tree of knowledge.
Ad aquest frug em tug somos,
Que. culham amorozamen,
Que.! frugz es tan bels e tan bos
Que qui.! culhira, ben ni gen,
Tostemps aura vida valen.
Per qu’om de culhir no.s fenha,
Mentre qu’en a loc e lezer.
Lo dous frug cuelh qui la crotz pren

E sec Crist vas on que tenha,
Que Cristz es lo frugz de saber.
Peire Cardenal 305
To that fruit we are all summoned, so that we might lovingly
cull it; for the fruit is so fair and fine that he who culls it, well
and rightly, will always have everlasting life. Wherefore let
no one hold back from culling it, while he has for it time and
occasion.
He culls the sweet fruit who takes the cross and follows
Christ to wherever He may lead, for Christ is the fruit of
knowledge.
Guiraut Riguier
LiFe. As for most of the professional troubadours, our know-

ledge of Guiraut Riquier’s life is limited to those general cir-
cumstances of his career which figure in his own poetry. Such
is the nature of that poetry however, and the manner of its
conservation, that these circumstances can be described with
amore than usual measure of accuracy, for not only does one of
the base manuscripts claim to reproduce the poet’s original
holograph in which most of the works are precisely dated, but
much of the poet’s thematic material derives directly from his
personal and professional situation. Of this, the dominant
feature is the fact that Guiraut, as he himself grew increasingly
aware, was to be the last of the troubadours. Thus, from his
earliest poem of 1254 to his latest, of 1292, one can trace his
efforts to maintain in the face of growing neglect and indiffer-
ence the traditions of troubadour lyric poetry, to establish a
livelihood on their cultivation, and finally to seek consolation
for repeated failures in a form of poetry which itself marks their
end. During the first part of his career, from 1254 to 1270,
Guiraut worked in Narbonne, seeking the patronage of the
local viscount Aimery 1v. Whether he did secure the latter’s
recognition is already somewhat problematical since, although
Aimery’s name figures frequently in poems of the period, other,
minor noblemen of the region, named less often, are yet
addressed more warmly, more hopefully, and with greater
enthusiasm. Even in the 1250s Guiraut introduces what will
become in time a dominant theme, the failure of noble society
to appreciate the poet of true courtliness, while in the 1260s he
makes increasingly plain his intentions of seeking fairer fortune
elsewhere. This he does in 1270, journeying to Spain and com-
ing to settle, for a period of nine years or so, at the court of
King Alfonso x. But the court of Castile in the 70’s, like that of
Narbonne in the preceding decade, had already passed its peak
aol
Gutraut Riquier 307
as a centre of a flourishing literary culture, open to all comers

and welcoming especially the troubadours. Alfonso himself
was increasingly beset with material, dynastic and political
difficulties, and in all events his court had by this time developed
highly specific, native poetic forms dependent no longer on the
once prestigious traditions which Guiraut represented. The
themes of disappointment and deception are taken up more
frequently, more bitterly, as the decade wore on, and at its end
Guiraut returns to the Midi. Here, at the court of Count Henry
11 of Rodez, one of the last to maintain, albeit on a restricted
scale, some vestiges of literary activity, Guiraut’s hopes are for
a time revived. New projects are conceived, new forms and
themes worked on, but to no lasting avail. In a poem of 1286 he
laments once more the absence of patronage and protection,
and it is impossible to trace his whereabouts thereafter. If, as is
likely, he returned to Narbonne, nothing suggests that he found
there even the limited favour he had enjoyed some thirty years
earlier. In his last dated composition he turns away from the
world, finally admitting that he had come too late; too late,
that is, to achieve that to which, despite all the changing cir-
cumstances, he had devoted his long career. Late in 1292 or
soon after, Guiraut Riquier disappears without trace, and the
last shadows of a once great and flourishing art fade away.
woRKS. The number of this poet’s compositions, just over a
hundred in all, their unprecedented generic variety and
novelty, with the classic canso and sirventés accounting for
little more than half, and the remainder provided by an assort-
ment of genres such as the roiroencha, the pastorella, tensos, albas
and non-lyric verse epistles, together with the markedly even
rate of production, averaging between two and three pieces
each year for nearly forty years, all this bears witness to the
conscientious dedication with which Guiraut sought to fulfil
his self-appointed mission. Equally indicative is the register in
which the greater part of his work is written. The moral, religi-
ous, and literary advice and exposition to which his long verse
epistles are devoted are as unrelievedly earnest and solemn
as, in his lyrics, the more conventional laments of unrequited
love, the protestations of unconditioned loyalty, the prayers
to God and the Virgin Mary, the complaints about the decline of
courtliness and about his own failure to secure recognition.
Yet it must be admitted that if Guiraut’s mission was so con-
stantly and, at the end, so definitively frustrated, the fault lies
as much in the nature of his own art as in the changing nature
of external circumstances. The variety and the novelty of
genres practised and developed throughout his career fail to
make good a lack of genuine creativity and, while a certain
amount of his verse does rise above the general level of facile
prolixity, even his best work is distinguished by little more
than adequate resolutions of unambitious technical problems
and satisfactorily coherent formulations of long-established
themes. If his numerous religious lyrics constitute in fact an
authentically personal and individual achievement, they also
tend, by their very nature, at first to rival and ultimately to
replace the secular ideals on which the troubadour lyric had
been founded. Their emergence in his own work as a dominant
lyric form, together with the steady development of the long
verse composition as a vehicle of moral, religious and literary
discourse, is paralleled by the gradual abandonment of the
courtly love-song, more than half his compositions of this genre
dating from his first period and none at all from his last, post-
Castilian period. Both religious lyrics and long verse treatises,
finally, while leaving far behind the art and inspiration of
Guiraut’s predecessors, already announce two distinctive fea-
tures of later medieval poetry, be it that cultivated by the good
burgesses of Toulouse in the Consistoire del Gay Saber, or that
of the professional writers labouring in the courts of northern
France. In his work as in his life, Guiraut Riquier thus figures, in
spite of himself no doubt, as the last of the troubadours.
EDITION. S. L. H. Pfaff, in C. A. F. Mahn’s Die Werke der
Trobadors, (5 Vols., Berlin 1846-1886) Vol. 4, 1853.
SELECTION. Beyond stating that even the briefest selection
would illustrate the main features of Guiraut Riquier’s art
and inspiration, there is little occasion for further, detailed com-
ment. Thus the first two pieces (Pfaff, nos. 7 and 23), written
in Narbonne, 1259, and Castile, 1275, show well the exclusive
consistency with which the poet maintained through much
of his career the most characteristic and conventional features
of the canso d’amor. Similarly in the next piece (Pfaff, no. 45), a
sirventés dating from 1286, if a note of individuality can be
perceived, it is in the very completeness with which the poet
identifies himself with all the current topics of moral and
social comment, a completeness aptly mirrored in the formal
3
1
Guiraut Riquier 309
coherence and neat regularity of the composition. The follow-
ing piece (Pfaff, no. 50, dated 1289) is undoubtedly more
innovatory. The sustained and detailed adaptation of the lan-
guage, style and topics of the courtly love-song to what is, in
essence, a hymn of praise to the Virgin Mary contrasts strongly
with the traditional pattern of such compositions, closely based
hitherto on liturgical and mediaeval Latin models. With the
exception of a few minor troubadours of the late thirteenth
century the device is unique to Guiraut himself. Its signifi-
cance, with regard both to the poet’s personal situation and to
the contemporary literary and cultural context, is to be seen
again in the fifth selected piece, a sirventés dating from 1292
(Pfaff, no. 53). As the last of his compositions one cannot help
but read it as the poet’s farewell to the world, a farewell which,
in its pathetic simplicity, envisions the whole of Guiraut’s
experience and endows it with a meaningful unity. To the very
last word we see the poet striving to maintain the fundamental
traditions of the troubadours; in the profoundly modified sense
in which that last word is used we see, too, that those traditions
are now at their end.
No.m sai, d’amor, si m’es mala o bona,
O.m val o.m notz, 0.m manten o m’azira;
Ni sai, del mal ni del ben, quals se sobra.
Ni no conosc si m’aleuja o.m carga,
Ni entendi si.m dic ver o messonja,
Ni si vau dreg o tenc via traversa.
Qu’est pessamens me destrenh e.m taborna,
Don trac trop pieytz que selh qu’om viu escorja.
Qu’amors me fa chauzir per la pus bona

Lieys qu’ieu dezir et am, per que m’azira,
E.m fa sufrir, ses camjar, so que.m sobra;
E.m fa voler tal re que.m sobrecarga,
E.m fa semblar vertat de la messonja
Tant que mo mielhs me trastolh e.m traversa;
E.m fa tornar al dur colp que.m taborna,
E.m fa portar lo cotelh que m’escorja.
Si aissi.m notz amors, en als m’es bona,

Qu’a luex vils faitz per lieys mon cor azira,
E.m fa eslir aquelhs don bos pretz sobra.
E m/a donat tal saber que no.m carga,
Ans me fa dir mant bon vers ses messonja;
E.m dona grat dels pros, senes traversa,
Ab tal engenh que.ls pecx amans taborna,
Quar mos braus ditz, per semblant, los escorja.
Pero mai vuelh que.m sia d’aitant bona

Que si m’aizis amors lieys que m’azira,
Senes tot l’als, si tot l’afans me sobra.
E pur manda.m suffrir, d’als no.m descarga,
Quar ab suffrir n’aurai joy ses messonja.
Et on mais am midons, pus m’es traversa;
Aissi no truep vertat, per que.m taborna,
Si.m val 0.m notz, 0.m sana o m’escorja.
Al vescomte N’Amalric de Narbona

Vir ma chanso, quar tot vil fag azira,
E manten pretz, per que valors li sobra
Tant que.ls vils ricx de mals pessamens carga,
E manten joy e gab senes messonja, over
Guiraut Riquier Sis
I know not, concerning love, whether it’s bad or good to me,
whether it profits or harms me, or helps or hates me; nor do I
know, of the bad and the good, which overwhelms the other.
I do not recognize whether it pleases or oppresses me, nor do I
understand whether it tells me truth or falsehood, or whether
I go straight or keep to a path perverse. And by this state of
mind am I tortured and stricken; I suffer far worse from it
than one who is flayed alive.
Love has me choose as the most good her whom I love and
desire, whereby Love hates me and makes me endure, without
alteration, that which overwhelms me; it makes me want such
a thing as oppresses me greatly, and it so much makes truth
appear to me from falsehood that it robs me of what is best and
perverts it for me; it makes me run into the hard knock that’s
struck against me, and has me bear the knife which flays me.
If Love thus harms me, in other ways it’s good; for betimes
my heart, for its sake, hates base deeds, and it makes me opt for
those whose fine merit is overwhelming. It has given me such
knowledge as does not oppress me but, rather, has me say
many a fine verse, without falsehood; it earns for me the good-
will of the worthy, pure of perversion, and with such skill as
strikes against foolish lovers, for my harsh words, to all
appearances, flay them.
For all this ’'d rather that Love were so good as to win over
for me her who hates me, without all else, though the anguish
overwhelms me. But it bids me only to endure—by naught else
does it relieve me —for by enduring will I have its joy, without
falsehood. Yet the more I love my lady, the more she’s perverse
towards me, and so I discover not the truth—and thereby she
afflicts me—as to whether she profits or harms me, or heals or
flays me.
To the Viscount Lord Aimery of Narbonne I address my song,

for he hates every base deed and upholds merit, whereby valour
so triumphs in him that he oppresses the base rich with their
evil thoughts, and upholds joy and jesting without falsehood,
Ab grat dels pros, senes tota traversa;
E sap valer tant que.ls estranhs taborna,
Salvan s’onor, per que ira.ls escorja.
Midons bona sai, qu’azira traversa;

Si be.m sobra, no.s carga ni.s taborna,
Car messonja tem que valor escorja.
Lies Fis e verays e pus ferms que no suelh

Suy vas amor endreg mon Belh Deport.
Non que m’aja fag semblan de conort,
Mas que.m soven qui fuy ans que ames,
E que.m cossir qui fora ses amor,
Et aug per qui.m teno.l conoyssedor.
Per quieu am fis, quar d’amar ay I’enans.
L’enans que n’ay m’es mout plazens e grans,

Qu’ieu non saupi penre ni far honor,
Ni negus faitz d’azaut no m’ac sabor,
Tro.m fes plazer amors qu’ieu lieys ames
Qu’ab mi no fon en lunh fag d’un acort,
Sal quar son pretz creysser dezira fort;
Que s’ylh 0 vol, ieu atretant o vuelh.
D’aquelh voler ni dels autres no.m duelh

Endreg de lieys, ans m’a d’afan estort,
Qwieu non dezir qu’autres plazers m’aport.
Mas si.m disses que.l plagues qu’ieu l’ames,
Foran complit mey dezirier maior.
Mas non o vuelh, qu’ilh no.y agues honor,
Quar d’aquella creysser suy dezirans.
Amors fa far totz bos faitz benestans,

E dona.ls ayps qu’a pretz son valedor.
Doncx amors es doctrina de valor,
Que non es hom tan pecx, sol ben ames,
Que no.] menes amors a valent port.
Mas ad enjan es datz sos noms a tort,
Qu’amors enjan ni barat non acuelh. over
;
Guiraut Riquter 313
and with the goodwill of the worthy, pure of all perversion;
and he is capable of such valour that he strikes against the
foreigners, preserving his honour, wherefore frustration flays
them.
I know my lady is good, who hates perversion; though she

overwhelms me, she’s not oppressed or stricken, for she fears
falsehood which flays valour.
i. Noble and true and more constant than is my wont am I

towards love for my Fair Delight. Not that she’s made me any
show of comfort, but because I recall who I was ere I loved,
and I consider who I would be without love and hear whom
those who know take me to be. For this I love nobly, that by
loving I am enhanced.
The enhancement which I have thereby is to me most great

and pleasing, for I knew not how to win or how to do honour,
and no gracious deed appealed to me, until love made it please
me that I should love her who was in no way of one accord
with me, except that she greatly desires to increase her merit,
for, as she wants it, so I want it just as much.
For such wanting and others I’ve no regret regarding her; it

has, rather, freed me from anguish, and I desire not that
it should bring me other pleasures. But if she told me that it
pleased her that I loved her, my greatest desires would be
fulfilled. But this I want not: that she thereby should not have
honour, since I am desirous of increasing that.
Love causes all good, seemly deeds to be done, and bestows

those qualities which pertain to merit. Thus love is a school of
valour, for no man is so stupid but, provided he love, love
guides him to valorous port. But to deceit is its name wrongly
given, for love has no dealings with deceit or guile.
Tals ditz ‘Ieu am selha que.m fa erguelh’
Que dezira de lieys pieitz de sa mort,
E.1 pus, conosc, que son d’aquella sort.
Mas si quascus sa dona fis ames,
Totz sos enans, say, que l’agra sabor;
E.] contraris fera.l mout gran temor,
Quar aital es l’esser dels fis amans.
S’al rey degues dire que ieu l’ames!

Assatz sembla que.l porti fin’amor,
Quar per sos ops dezir mil tans d’onor
Que per lo mieu, si.m sia Dieus enans.
Reys Castellas, vostre laus m’a sabor,

E si per vos non venh en gran ricor,
Al mens per tot n’er pus grazitz mos chans.
III. Ja mais non er hom en est mon grazitz

Per ben trobar belhs digz e plazens sos,
Ni per esser de bon grat enveyos,
Tant es lo muns avengutz deschauzitz.
Quar so que sol dar pretz, grat, e lauzor,
Aug repenre per folhia major;
E so qu’om sol repenre e blasmar
Vey mantener, et aug per tot lauzar.
De tolre vey los poderos arditz,

E.ls vey volpilhs de condutz e de dos;
E de dir ver tardius e vergonhos,
E de mentir frontiers et yssernitz.
E lialtat no servan, ni amor,
Mas ab enjan s’aziran entre lor;
Et a merce no.s volon regardar,
E son cobe d’aizina de peccar.
Ab tot ditz hom que.| mun es corregitz,

E pus que mais no fo es valoros!
E pareys be de conoyssensa blos
Qui so pessa, e trop pus qui o ditz. over
Guiraut Riquier BD
Such a one says ‘I love her who is proud towards me’ who
desires of her worse than her death; and the most, I am aware,
are of that sort. But if each loved his lady nobly, I know that
all that which enhanced her would appeal to him; and the con-
trary would inspire in him great dread, because such is the
essence of noble lovers.
If only she were to tell the king that I loved her! It’s clear
enough that I bear her noble love because, for her sake, I
desire a thousand times more honour than for my own, so help
me God.
King of Castile, I take pleasure in your praise, and if by you I

come not to great wealth, at least for it will my song be by all
more favoured.
pit. Never more will a man be in this world thanked for well com-
posing fair words and pleasant airs, nor for being eager for
esteem, so much is the world come to its decline. For that
which used to inspire merit, approval, and praise, I hear
blamed as the utmost folly; and that which one used to criticize
and blame, I see upheld, and hear it praised by all.
I see those in power bold to take, and see them reluctant to

welcome and give; tardy and bashful to speak the truth, and
shameless and clever in lying. Loyalty they serve not, nor love,
but with deceit they contend among themselves; they would
have no regard for mercy and are avid of occasion to sin.
Withal it’s said that the world is improved, and that it’s more
valorous than it ever was! And he seems indeed bereft of wit
who thinks that, and he far more who says so.
Qu’anc el mon mais tant no foron trachor
Ni falsari sufert, que.l gran senhor
Fan de gran tort, ab elh, bon dreg semblar,
Et es volgutz mais qui.n sap pus obrar.
Perparan dreg, es tortz tant enantitz

Que. mons es ples de platz e de tensos,
Qu’om sec apelhs assizas volontos,
Meten lo sieu tro n’es empaubrezitz.
E caritatz no troba valedor,
Don vey camjar totz jorns mal per peior;
E pot quascus en si meteys trobar
Que vertatz es, si so sap cossirar.
Ab aquelh mal qu’es dels autres razitz,

Et ab erguelh em tug contrarios
A tot dever, qu’entre mil non a dos
Que.s conoscan, car bos sens no.ns es guitz.
Ni temem mort, ni pena, ni dolor,
Ni vergonha, et aujatz gran folhor:
Qu’apres la mort mandam so acabar,
Per nos, que viu no sabem comensar!
E tuch avem los mandamens auzitz

Que nos a faitz Dieus, qu’es totz poderos,
E totz savis, drechuriers, e totz bos,
Ples de merces; mas pauc n’es obezitz.
E sol qu’aman, luy honran ab temor,
E lus l’autre, visquessem ses rancor,
Fazen lo ben que pogram, ses mal far,
Crey certamen qu’elh nos volgra salvar.
Sanctz paires Dieus, sanctz filhs, sanctz esperitz,

Qu’etz caritatz, misericordios,
E tot quant es, es niens senes vos,
Senher, tot so de que vos etz servitz
Nos faitz obrar, a la vostra honor;
E de tot Vals, per la vostre doussor,
Faitz nos partir, e.ns o faitz azirar,
E.ns datz guida que.ns sapcha dreg guidar. over
Guiraut Riquier SUS)
For never in the world were knaves and cheats so suffered as
now, when the great lords make great wrong, with their help,
seem natural right, and when he is most sought after who best
knows how to work it.
Right being up for sale, wrong has so prospered that the world
is full of quarrels and disputes, and men take their pleas to
court most readily, spending whatever they have until they’re
impoverished. Charity finds no champion, whence I see bad
changed every day for worse; and each can discover in him-
self that that’s the truth, if he’s able to think on it.
By that evil which is the root of all others, and by pride are we
all against all duty, so that in a thousand there are not two
who are in accord, for good sense guides us not. Nor fear we
death, pain, suffering, or shame, and just listen to this folly: we
expect, after death, that to be done for us which we, in this
life, know not even how to begin!
Yet we all have heard the commandments which God gave us,
He Whois almighty and all-knowing, just and wholly good and
merciful; but for all that He is not much obeyed. If only, in
loving, honouring Him in awe, and one another, we lived
without ill-will, doing the good that we could, without doing
evil, I surely believe that He would be willing to save us.
God, Holy Father, Holy Son, Holy Spirit, You who are charity
itself, and merciful, and all that is, is nothing without You, cause
us to do all that by which You are served, and to labour in
Your honour; and all else, through Your sweetness, have us
shun, have us hate it, and give us that guidance by which we
might rightly be guided.
De far l’obra son trop li dictator
De drechura, e pauc li fazedor;
L’un trop escur e li autre pro clar;
Mas tant sofre Dieus que.ns deu temor far.
Anc pus perdei l’onrat rey plen d’amor

De Castella, N’Anfos, non ayc senhor
Que.m conogues, ni.m saubes tant honrar
Que m’en pogues de vergonha cessar.
Greu me sera si.m coven ablasmar

Un senhor mieu que solia lauzar.
IV. Ieu cujava soven d’amor chantar

El temps passat, e non la conoyssia,
Qu’ieu nomnava per amor ma folia.
Mas era.m fai amors tal don’amar
Que non la puesc honrar pro, ni temer,
Ni tener car endreg del sieu dever;
Ans ai dezir que s'amors me destrenha
Tant que l’esper, qu’ieu ai en lieys, n’atenha.
Quar per s’amor esper en pretz montar,

Et en honor et en gran manentia,
Et en gran gauch, doncx en als non deuria
Mos pessamens ni mos dezirs estar;
Que pus per lieys puesc tot quant vuelh aver,
Al sieu servir dey far tot mon poder.
Quar amatz suy per lieys, sol que.m captenha
Vas lieys aissi co fin’amors essenha.
E per aisso dey m’en miels esforssar,

Pus ylh me vol si.m vuelh, quieu no poiria
Entendr’en lieys, si de lieys no.m venia.
Doncx per s’amor dey ben la mia dar;
Quar ieu no puesc ses ella re valer,
Ni puesc a lieys, sal d’onrar, pro tener;
E fassa.m Dieus, que pot, tener la senha
Endreg midons dels fis, on amors renha. over
S}
Gutraut Riquier 319
To do that work the teachers of righteousness are many, and

few the doers; these hard to find, the others manifest enough;
but God endures so much that it must strike us with fear.
Since I lost the honoured, loving king of Castile, Lord Alfonso,

I never had a lord who acknowledged me, or who could so
honour me that I might cease feeling shame.
It will be hard for me if I’m to blame a lord of mine whom I

used to praise.
IV. I often thought to sing of love in times gone by, and I knew
nothing of it for I named by love’s name my folly. But now
love has me love a lady such that I cannot honour her enough,
hold her in awe or cherish her as she ought to be; I rather
desire her love so to constrain me that I might thereby attain
the hope which I have in her.
Since through her love I hope to rise to merit, to honour, to

great wealth and to great joy, I should not therefore set else-
where my thoughts or my desires; and since through her I can
have all I desire, I must in her service do all that is in my power.
For I am loved by her, if only I act so towards her as noble
love commends.
And for this I should better strive, that she wants me if I so

want, and I could not aspire to her unless, of herself, she came
to me. Hence for her love I must indeed give mine, for I cannot,
without her, be worth anything, nor can I to her, save by
honouring, be of avail. Then may God, who is able to, have
me bear on behalf of my lady the banner of the noble over
whom love reigns.
Saber non ay ni sen per lieys lauzar;
Tant a d’onor que pus non y cabria,
E tant de ben que res no.I creysseria.
Doncx ma lauzors de que la pot honrar ?
Ieu prenc l’onor, quar no.n puesc dir mas ver.
Per que m’en dey esforsar jorn e ser;
Quar, a lunh for, en ren qu’a mi covenha
No puesc pecar, que midons mi sovenha.
Tan gran beutat a que no pot mermar,

Nires no.y falh, ans resplan nuech e dia;
Et a poder tal qu’en ren no.s fadia,
Et gracia en tot quan que vol far,
Humilitat, caritat, sen, saber,
E pietat e merce, per qu’esper
Ay en s’amor, pus ylh amar me denha,
Que.m tenra gay, sol qu’ieu dreg a lieys venha.
Ma dona puesc nomnar ben per dever

Mon Belh Deport, pus ay mon bon esper
Qu’ilh me fassa selh que razos m’essenha,
Per que la prec, per merce, que.m revenha.
Gilos non suy, qui s’amor vol aver,

De lieys qu’ieu am, ans n’ay mot gran plazer,
E.m desplay fort, qui amar non Ja denha.
Quar per s’amor crey cert que totz bes venha.
Sos amadors prec midons que mantenha,

Si que quasqus son dezirier n’atenha.
Gutraut Riquier 321
Knowledge I have not, nor sense enough to praise her; so
much honour she has that there’d be no place for more, and so
much good that nothing would increase it. Then in what way
could my praise honour her ?Mine is the honour, for I cannot
speak of her but the truth. Wherefore I must strive morn and
evening, for, on no account, can I sin in whatever it behoves me
to do, provided my lady helps me.
She has such great beauty that it cannot wane, it lacks in

nothing but is resplendent night and day; and she has such
power that in nothing does it abate, and grace in all that she is
pleased to do, humility, charity, sense and knowledge, and
pity and mercy; wherefore I have hope in her love, since she
deigns to love me, that it will keep me joyful, if only I come
to her straightway.
I can indeed by rights name my lady My Fair Delight, since I

have good hope that she will make me such that reason guides
me; wherefore I pray her, through mercy, to restore me.
I am not jealous if one would have the love of her whom I

love; I rather take great pleasure in it and am most displeased
with whoever deigns not to love her. For through love of her
I firmly believe that all good comes.
I pray that my lady so maintain her lovers that each one may
thereby attain his desire.
Be.m degra de chantar tener,
Quar a chan coven alegriers,
E mi destrenh tant cossiriers
Que.m fa de totas partz doler;
Remembran mon greu temps passat,
Esgardan lo prezent forsat,
E cossiran l’avenidor,
Que per totz ai razon que plor.
Per que no.m deu aver sabor

Mos chans, qu’es ses alegretat;
Mas Dieus m’a tal saber donat
Qu’en chantan retrac ma folhor,
Mo sen, mon gauch, mon desplazer,
E mon dan et mon pro, per ver;
Qu’a penas dic ren ben estiers,
Mas trop suy vengutz als derriers.
Qu’er non es grazitz lunhs mestiers

Menhs en cort que de belh saber
De trobar; qu’auzir e vezer
Hi vol hom mais captenhs leugiers
E critz mesclatz ab dezonor;
Quar tot quan sol donar lauzor,
Es, al pus del tot, oblidat,
Que.| mons es, quays, totz en barat.
Per erguelh e per malvestat

Dels Christias ditz, luenh d’amor
E dels mans de Nostre Senhor,
Em del sieu Sant Loc discipat,
Ab massa d’autres encombriers;
Don par qu’elh nos es aversiers
Per desadordenat voler
E per outracujat poder. over
Guiraut Riquter 322
I should indeed refrain from singing because for song there’s

need of gaiety, and care constrains me so much that from all
sides it causes me pain; remembering my hard times past,
considering the difficult present, and thinking on the future, so
that for all times I have cause to weep.
Wherefore my song should have no pleasure for me, for it is

without any gayness; but God has given me such art that in
singing I recount my folly, my sense, my joy, my displeasure,
and my losses and my gains, in truth; I scarcely say anything
worthwhile otherwise, but I have come too late, among the
last.
For now no craft is less well-received in courts than the fair art
of writing poetry; one there prefers to see and hear frivolous
pastimes and shameful chatter. Because all that which used to
give rise to praise is, most of all, forgotten, the world is, so to
speak, all up for sale.
Through the pride and wickedness of so-called Christians, far

from the love and the biddings of Our Lord, we are now
driven from His holy Sepulchre, not to speak of the mass of
other setbacks; whence it seems that He is hostile to us, on
account of unruly desire and overweening power.
Lo greu perilh devem temer
De dobla mort qu’es prezentiers:
Que.ns sentam Sarrazis sobriers,
E Dieus que.ns giet a non-chaler.
Et entre nos, qu’em azirat,
Tost serem del tot aterrat;
E no.s cossiran la part lor,
Segon que.m par, nostre rector.
Selh que crezem en unitat,

Poder, savieza, bontat,
Done a sas obras lugor
Don sian mundat peccador.
Dona, maires de caritat,

Acapta nos, per pietat,
De ton filh nostre redemptor,
Gracia, perdon, et amor.
Gutraut Riquter 325
We should fear the grievous peril of twofold death which now

is present: of our feeling the Saracens victors, and of God
forsaking us. We who are in mutual strife will swiftly be
struck down, and they think not on their réle, so it appears to
me, these our leaders.
May He in Whose oneness we believe, as in His power,

wisdom and goodness, cast light on His works by which sin-
ners might be made pure.
Lady, Mother of Charity, secure for us in pity from your son

Our Redeemer, grace, forgiveness, and love.
it
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The purpose of this series is to study the words and compre-

hend the meaning of works by poets, playwrights, and prose

EDINBURGH BILINGUAL LIBRARY

Edited and Translated by

for the University Press

effect of a troubadour lyric, with its subtle blend of verbal and

LiFe. Born in 1071, William 1x acceded to the titles and

aristocrat attributes to the poetic function. Such a poem is not

Companho, faray un vers [. . .] covinen,

E tenguatz lo per vilan qui no l’enten,

Dos cavalhs ai a ma selha, ben e gen;

Si.ls pogues adomesjar a mon talen,

La uns fo dels montanhiers lo plus corren,

L’autre fo noyritz sa jus, part Cofolen,

Qu’ie.l doney a son senhor polin payssen,

De Gimel ai lo castel e.1 mandamen,

Lk Compaigno, non puesc mudar qu’eo no m’effrei

My friends, I’ll make a fitting poem and there’ll be in it more

And consider him a serf who doesn’t understand it, or in his

I have two horses to my saddle, right and properly; good they

If I could break them in to my desire, I would never wish to

And I gave it to its lord, a foal in pasture; yet for myself I

Knights, give me counsel in a problem! Never was I more

ie My friends, I cannot help but be dismayed at news which I

[E]t aquill fan entre lor aital agrei—

[E]t eu dic vos, gardador, e vos castei,

[Q]u’eu anc non vi nulla domn’ab tan gran fei,

[E] si.l tenez a cartat lo bon conrei,

[N Jon ia negu de vos la.m desautrei:

[C]hascus beuri’ans de l’aiga que.s laisses morir de sei.

LEE Farai un vers de dreyt nien:

No sai en qual guiza.m fuy natz:

And between them they behave in such a way—any one of

Each would drink water sooner than die of thirst.

Malautz suy e tremi murir,

Amigu’ai ieu, no sai qui s’es,

Anc non la vi et am la fort,

Fag ai lo vers, no say de cuy;

I know not when I sleep, or when I wake, unless someone tells

D’amor non dey dire mas be.

A totz jorns m’es pres enaissi

Per tal n’ai meyns de bon saber:

Ja no sera nuils hom ben fis

Obediensa deu portar

I should say nothing of love but good. Why have I so little of

At all times has it befallen me thus, that never of that which I

No man will ever be gracious to love unless he is submissive to

Obedience to many men must he show who would love; and it

Mon Esteve, mas ieu no.i vau,

Farai chansoneta nueva

Qu’ans mi rent a lieys e.m liure,

Que plus es blanca qu’evori,

Qual pro.y auretz, dompna conja,

Before my friend Stephen, though I’m not going, be my poem

For she is whiter than ivory, wherefore I adore no other. If

Per aquesta fri e tremble,

VI. Pos de chantar m’es pres talentz,

Qu’era m’en irai en eisil;

Lo departirs m’es aitan grieus