Chapter XXXII: Some Interlinear Versions

I.

_CANZO BY GUILLEM DE CABESTANH._

Li douz cossire
The sweet thoughts
Qem don amors soven,
Which to me gives love often,
Domnam fan dire
Lady, me make say
De vos maint vers plazen;
Of you many a poem pleasant;
Pessan remire
Thinking I gaze (on)
Vostre cors car e gen,
Your body dear and comely,
Cui eu dezire
Which I desire
Mas qe non faz parven;
More than (not) I make appearance;
E sitot me deslei
And although myself I make (appear) disloyal
Per vos, ges nous abnei,
For you(r sake), scarcely (not) you I deny;
Q’ades vas vos soplei
For soon towards you I pray
De francha benvolensa.
With genuine love.
Domna, on beutaz gensa,
Lady, where (in whom) beauty is an ornament,
Maintas vez oblit mei
Many times I forget myself
Q’eu lau vos e mercei.
That I may praise you and implore mercy.

Toz temps m’azire
All times me may hate
L’amors qeus mi defen,
The Love which you (from) me withholds
S’eu jal cor vire
If I ever the heart turn
Ad autr’ entendemen;
To another (loving) understanding;
Tolt m’ avez rire
Taken away (from) me you have laughter
E donat pessamen.
And given thought.
Plus greu martire
More severe martyrdom
Nuls homs de me no sen;
No man of me (than I) not feels;
Qar vos qe plus envei
For you whom more I desire
De re q’el mon estei,
Of (than a) thing which in the world is
Desautorc e mescrei
I disavow and deny
E desam en parvensa;
And un-love in appearance;
Tot qant faz per temensa
All how much I do through fear
Devez en bona fei
You must in good faith
Prendre, neis qan nous vei.
Take, even when not you I see.

En sovinensa
In memory
Tenc la car’ el dous ris,
I hold the face and the sweet smile,
Vostra valensa
Your worth
El bel cors blanc e lis;
And the beautiful body white and lithe;
Si per crezensa
If through faith
Estes ves deu tan fis,
I were towards God as faithful,
Vius ses falhensa
Alive without failure
Intrer’ en paradis;
I should enter into paradise.
Q’ aissim sui ses toz cuz
For so myself I am (have) without all (any) hesitation
De cor a vos renduz
Of the heart to you given
Q’autra jois nom aduz;
That another joys not to me gives;
Q’una no porta benda,
For one not wears a band
Q’en prezes per esmenda
That I of her should prize as compensation
Jaser ne fos sos druz
To lie (with her) nor that I were her lover
Per las vostras saluz.
(In exchange) for the your greetings.

Toz jorns m’agensa
All the days me stirs
Desirs, tan m’abelis
Desire, so much me attracts
La captenensa
The bearing
De vos per cui languis;
Of you for whom I languish;
Bem par qem vensa
Good to me it seems that me should conquer
Vostr’ amors, q’ans qeus vis
Your love, for before that you I saw
Fo m’ entendensa,
It was to me a knowledge
Qeus ames eus servis;
That you I should love and you I should serve;
Q’ aissim sui remansuz
For thus myself I am (have) remained
Sols ses autres ajuz
Alone without other helps
Q’ ab vos, e n’ ai perduz
But (from) you and therefrom I have lost
Mans bes, quis vuelhals prenda;
Many boons; he who for himself will (have) them take (them);
Q’a mi plaz mais q’atenda
For to me it pleases more that I should wait
Ses toz covenz saubuz
Without all covenants known
Vas don m’ es jois creguz.
(With) towards (her) from whom to me (has) is joy grown.

Ans qe s’encenda
Before that itself may inflame
Inz el cor la dolors,
Inside in the heart the pain,
Merces desenda
Mercy may descend,
Domn’ en vos et amors,
Lady, into you and love,
Qe joi mi renda
Which joy to me may give
En lonhs sospirs e plors.
Amidst long sighs and tears.
Nous o defenda
Not you this may forbid
Paratges ni ricors;
Parentage nor wealth;
Q’oblidaz m’es toz bes,
For forgotten (by) me is every boon,
S’ab vos nom val merces;
If with you not me helps mercy;
Ai! bella dousa res,
Oh! beautiful sweet thing,
Molt feraz gran franqesa
Much will you do great frankness
M’amessez o non ges;
(If) me you would love or not (scarcely)
Q’eras no sai qe s’es.
For now not I know which (itself) it is.

Non trop contenda
Not I find resistance
Contra vostras valors;
Against your worth(s);
Merces von prenda
Mercy you thereof may take
Tals q’a vos si’ onors;
Such as to you would be an honour;
Ja nom entenda
Ever not me may hear
Dieus mest sos prejadors,
God amongst his worshippers,
Si volh la renda
If I will (take) the income
Dels qatre reis majors
Of the four kings greatest
Qe ab vos nom valgues
So that with you not to me should be of use
Dieus e ma bona fes;
God and my good faith;
Qe partir nom posc ges
For part (from you) not (me) I can scarcely
Tant fort si es empresa
So strongly itself is (has) inflamed
M’ amors, e si fos presa
My love, and if it were found
En baisan nius plagues,
(In) kissing and if you it pleased
Ja no volgram solves.
Ever not should I wish myself that I severed.

Anc res q’a vos plagues
Ever a thing that (to) you pleased
Bona domna cortesa
Good lady courteous
Tan no m’ estet defesa,
So much not to me was forbidden
Q’eu ans no la fezes,
That I sooner not it should do
Qe d’als mi sovengues.
Than of another thing (myself) I should think.

II.

_IDYLL BY MARCABRUN._

A la fontana del vergier,
At the fountain of the orchard
On l’ erb’ es vertz jostal gravier,
Where the grass is green near the gravel
A l’ ombra d’ un fust domesgier,
In the shade of a tree indigenous
En aizement de blancas flors
In the beauty of white flowers
E de novel chant costumier,
And of new song familiar
Trobei sola ses companhier
I found alone without companion
Cela que no volc mon solatz.
Her who not relished my conversation.

So fon donzel’ ab son cor bel,
This was a girl with her body beautiful
Filha d’un senhor de castel;
The daughter of one lord of a castle;
E quant eu cugei que l’ auzel
And when I thought that the birds
Li fesson joi e la verdors,
Her made (gave) joy and the greenery
E pel dous termini novel,
And (because of) the sweet season new
E que entendes mon favel,
And that she would listen (to) my address
Tost li fon sos afors camjatz.
Soon (the) were her manners changed.

Dels olhs ploret josta la fon
From her eyes she cried by the fountain
E del cor sospiret preon.
And from the heart she sighed deeply.
‘Jhesus,’ dis ela, ‘reis del mon,
‘Jesus,’ said she, ‘king of the world,
Per vos mi creis ma grans dolors,
Through you me grows my great grief
Quar vostra anta mi cofon,
For your disgrace me injures,
Quar li melhor de tot est mon
For the best of all this world
Vos van servir, mas a vos platz.
You go to serve, but to you it pleases.

Ab vos s’en vai lo meus amics,
With you (himself) away goes (the) my friend
Lo bels el gens el pros el rics,
The beautiful and the gentle and the brave and the worthy
Sai m’en reman lo grans destrics,
Here to me therefrom remains the great grief
Lo deziriers soven el plors.
The longing often and the tear.
Ai! mala fos reis Lozoics
Alas! evil be (befal) king Louis.
Que fai los mans e los prezics
Who makes the commands and the preachings,
Per quel dols m’es el cor intratz.’
Through which the pain to me is into the heart entered.’

Quant eu l’auzi desconortar,
When I her heard lament
Ves leis vengui jostal riu clar.
To her I came near the brook clear.
‘Bela,’ fi m’eu, ‘per trop plorar
‘Beautiful one,’ said (myself) I, ‘by too much crying
Afola cara e colors:
Degenerates face and colour:
E no vos qual dezesperar,
And not you it beseems to despair,
Que cel que fai lo bosc folhar
For he who makes the bush bring forth leaves
Vos pot donar de joi assatz.’
You can give of joys enough.’

‘Senher,’ dis ela, ‘ben o cre,
‘Sir,’ said she, ‘well this I believe
Que Deus aja de mi merce
That God may have of me mercy
En l’ autre segle per jasse,
In the other world for ever
Quon assatz d’ autres peccadors;
As enough of other sinners;
Mas sai mi tol aquela re
But here me he takes that thing
Don jois mi crec; mas pauc mi te
Of which joy me grew; but little me he holds worth
Que trop s’es de mi alonhatz.
As too (far) (himself) he is from me gone.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Even the oldest Provençal poem of importance known to us, a popular version of the story of Boethius, belonging, according to Raynouard, to the tenth century, shows in most essential points the same grammatical structure as the language of the Troubadours, barring such irregularities and archaisms as are fully accounted for by the age and origin of the work.

[2] The religious poems of the Vaudois, especially the celebrated ‘Noble Lesson,’ a medley of moral and dogmatic precepts, do not concern us, they being both by language and tendency entirely removed from the sphere of artistic literature.

[3] A curious collection of all imaginable law cases, called ‘Albres de Batalhas,’ or ‘Tree of Contention,’ and written most likely originally in French, may be mentioned as throwing a curious though faint light on a recent controversy. One of the fictitious actions is between a Frenchman and a licentiate of London who has come to Paris to take his degree in the celebrated university of that city, a case of frequent occurrence, although ‘as every one knows the Kings of France and England are always at war with each other.’ In answer to some argument of the Englishman his antagonist exclaims in his boisterous way: ‘We Frenchmen don’t care about your laws or the _emperor_ who made them.’ What better precedent could the advocates of Queen Victoria’s new title demand than this testimony of an enemy, who curiously enough speaks of his own monarch as the king?

[4] In one passage, it is true, he uses the words, ‘que ay escrichas questas razos,’ ‘I who have written these things,’ but that may be a shorter way for saying ‘dictated,’ which the expression in the text evidently indicates.

[5] In the second-mentioned poem the instruction takes the whimsical form of a reproof to a joglar for _not_ knowing the various subjects mentioned in the text. ‘I will tell you the truth without a lie,’ the ingenuous poet opens his diatribe; ‘you are a bad fiddler and worse singer from beginning to end.’

[6] Pulci says that Angelo Poliziano called his attention to Arnaut’s work, in acknowledgment evidently of what he considered a remarkable antiquarian achievement.

[7] ‘Galahalt’ was the go-between of the Queen and her lover. The word became nationalised in Italian as equivalent to ‘Pandar.’

[8] This kind of personal apprenticeship to a renowned troubadour, be it here parenthetically stated, was, in the good times, the common way of acquiring the complicated and difficult art of poetry. Other poets taught themselves with the assistance of the great models preserved in writing, or transmitted by word of mouth and sound of voice or fiddle. Jaufre Rudel says prettily, that meadows and orchards, trees and flowers, and the cries and songs of wild birds have been his teachers. The ‘Academies,’ _i.e._ teaching and examining bodies, were, like the schools of the German master singers, creations of a late epoch.

[9] M. Damase Arbaud some time ago published a charming collection of popular ditties (‘Chants Populaires de Provence,’ Aix, 1862), containing amongst other pieces some beautiful Christmas songs or _noëls_ evidently of great antiquity, although still sung in Provence. Some of these poems, the editor believes, date back from the times of the Troubadours. But the oral tradition to which they owe their preservation has unfortunately changed their linguistic character beyond recognition.

[10] The _senhal_ or pseudonym of his lady-love.

[11] Songs of dispute or contention.

[12] ‘The other day by the roadside I heard a shepherd sing a song, which said: “False traitors have killed me.” And when he saw me approach, he jumped to his feet to do me honour and said, ‘God be with you, sir; for now I have found a friend, leal and discreet and without falsehood to whom I may complain of love.’

[13] A curious exception to this rule occurs in a _balada_ published by Professor Bartsch from a Paris manuscript. It is evidently written in imitation of a popular model, and differs _in toto_ from the spirit and diction of the poetry of the Troubadours, with which it has nothing in common but the language. Here we have a refrain of purely musical significance at the end of some of the lines, and also the exclamation of the dancers referred to in the text. Here also, curiously enough, the words take a narrative turn, thus seeming to foreshadow the gradual transition of the term ballad from its old to its modern meaning. A stanza may follow here:—

A l’entrada del tems clar, eya,
Per joya recomençar, eya,
E per jelos irritar, eya,
Vol la regina mostrar
Q’el’est est si amoroza.
Alavi’, alavia, jelos,
Laissaz nos, laissaz nos
Ballar entre nos, entre nos.

(‘At the beginning of the bright season, eya, in order to begin again joy, eya, and to irritate the jealous, eya, the queen resolves to show how amorous she is. Away, away, ye jealous, let us, let us, dance by ourselves, by ourselves’).

[14] An article in the _Cornhill Magazine_ (July 1877), called a ‘Plea for certain Exotic Forms of Verse,’ may be consulted with advantage, as regards the adoption of these French metres by some modern English poets. For modern French poetry, that charming volume ‘Petit Traité de Poésie,’ by Théodore de Banville, is the chief source. Of the mediæval development of his own language and the _langue d’oc_ M. de Banville unfortunately says little or nothing. Villon seems the earliest author known to him. Rutebœuf he ignores.

[15] According to the _Leys d’amors_, this choice of one of two arguments proposed by one troubadour to another, is the characteristic feature of the _partimen_ in distinction from the _tenso_ generally.

[16] A notorious freebooter of the time.

[17] Attacks on the morals of the clergy are frequent in Provençal literature; but of poems containing heretical opinions in matters of dogma I know only one, by Peire Cardinal. It is a passionate plea against the eternity of punishment, and might have been quoted with advantage in a recent ecclesiastical trial. It is, however, by no means unlikely that other poems of heterodox import may have been accidentally or wilfully destroyed in the course of ages. The fact that a bull of Pope Innocent IV., dated 1245, prohibits to students the use of Provençal, as a language of heretics, tends to confirm this surmise.

[18] This poem may be found in Bartsch’s ‘Chrestomathie Provençale,’ 2nd edition, p. 55.

[19] The exact meaning of the word _sirventes_ is not easy to define. It is evidently derived from the Latin verb _servire_, and may therefore loosely be rendered as the ‘song of a serving-man in praise or in the interest of his master.’ The _Leys d’amors_ calls the _sirventes_ ‘a song which contains censure and vituperation, and castigates wicked and malignant people.’ This tolerably meets the case. The use of the word by later grammarians for a song in praise of the Virgin is a manifest corruption of its original meaning.

[20] The characteristic change between plural and singular in the lady’s address to Guillem adds greatly to the impressiveness of the original. Here, for instance, she says, ‘Eram digaz (Tell _you_ me), t’es tu anquera (hast _thou_ found out),’ etc.

[21] See the interlinear version of it; Index, ii.

[22] Another biographer adds with ghastly accuracy, ‘_a pebrada_,’ with pepper—‘devilled,’ as we should say.

[23] Some readers may care to know the whole passage referring to our troubadour, one of the most weird and impressive of the ‘Inferno.’ It occurs in the 28th Canto towards the close, and runs thus:—

Ma io rimasi a riguardar lo stuolo,
E vidi cosa ch’io avrei paura
Senza più pruova di contarla solo;
Se non che conscienzia m’assicura,
La buona compagnia che l’uom francheggia
Sotto l’usbergo del sentirsi pura.
Io vidi certo ed ancor par ch’io ’l veggia,
Un busto senza capo andar, si come
Andavan gli altri della trista greggia.
E ‘l capo tronco tenea per le chiome
Pesol con mano, a guisa di lanterna:
E quei mirava noi, e dicea: O me!
Di sè faceva a sè stesso lucerna;
Ed eran due in uno ed uno in due:
Com’ esser puo, Quei sa che sì governa.
Quando diritto appiè del ponte fue
Levò ‘l braccio alto con tutta la testa
Per appressarne le parole sue,
Che furo: Or vedi la pena molesta
Tu che, spirando vai veggendo i morti:
Vedi s’alcuna è grave come questa.
E perchè tu di me novella porti,
Sappi ch’io son Bertram dal Bornio, quelli
Che al rè giovane diedi i mai conforti;
Io feci ’l padre e ‘l figlio in sè ribelli:
Achitofel non fè più d’Absalone
E di David, coi malvagi pungelli.
Perch’io partii così giunte persone,
Partito porto il mio cerebro lasso!
Dal suo principio chè ’n questo troncone;
Così s’osserva in me lo contrappasso.

But I remained to look upon the troop,
And saw a thing which I should be in fear,
Without more proof of telling, I alone,
But that my conscience reassureth me,
The good companion which emboldens man
Under the hauberk of its feeling pure.
I certes saw, and seems I see it still,
A trunk without a head proceeding, so
As went the others of the sorry flock.
And by the hair he held his truncate head
In guise of lantern, pendulous in hand:
And that gazed on us, and it said, ‘Oh me!’
He of himself made light unto himself,
And they were two in one, and one in two:
How it can be He knows who governs thus.
When he was right against the bridge’s foot,
He raised, with all the head, his arm on high
So to approach to us the words thereof,
Which were: ‘See now the troublous penalty
Thou who go’st breathing, looking at the dead,
See whether any is so great as this.
And, for that thou mayst carry of me news,
I, know thou, am Bertran de Born, the man
Who gave the young king ill encouragements.
I mutually made rebels son and sire:
Ahithophel made Absalom no more
And David with his wicked goadings on.
Because I parted persons thus conjoined,
My brain, alas! I carry parted from
Its principle which is in this my trunk.
So retribution is in me observed.

W. M. ROSSETTI’S _translation_.

[24] I must warn the reader not to mistake the above lines for an attempt at rendering a somewhat similar war-song generally ascribed to Bertran de Born, and translated into English as one of his poems. It is the magnificent _sirventes_ beginning ‘Bem platz lo gais temps de pascor’ (Well I love the gay time of spring), and so much is it in the spirit of our troubadour that even one of the old manuscripts has his name affixed to it. Unfortunately, however, the evidence of numerous other and better manuscripts is against this plausible surmise, and by their authority the poem must be ascribed to William de St. Gregory, a troubadour comparatively little known.

[25] ‘First among all, Arnaut Daniel, the great master of love, who still does honour to his country by his new and beautiful parlance.’

[26] Owing to the noble protection granted to the remnants of the old Waldenses in the valleys of the Cottonian Alps by Cromwell, and continued by subsequent English governments, till the full emancipation of the sect by King Charles Albert in 1848, their history and doctrines have excited a great deal of interest in this country. A rich and valuable literature on the subject exists in our language, disfigured only by the desire, on the part of theologians, to absolutely identify the original doctrine of the Vaudois with that of the Protestant reformers. This kind of retrospective propagandism may have been useful in the days of the Commonwealth to raise Puritan sympathy for oppressed fellow Protestants, but surely is out of place in our critical times. The works by Blair, Faber, Gilly, Allix, and others are well known. The reader’s attention is called to an interesting volume by Dr. Todd, containing a description of the Waldensian manuscripts in the library of Trinity College, Dublin, also reprints of articles by the late Hon. Algernon Herbert, Dr. Gilly, and other authors, on the Waldenses and their representative poem, the ‘Noble Lesson.’ Here also will be found a curious account of the re-discovery of certain interesting MSS., brought over to England by Morland, Cromwell’s envoy to the Duke of Savoy, and deposited by him in the library of Cambridge University. They were long supposed to have disappeared, but were ultimately found by Mr. H. Bradshaw, the accomplished scholar, in 1862, on the identical shelf where Morland had deposited them. The possibility of this strange neglect Mr. Bradshaw explains from the fact that ‘the history of the MSS. was lost sight of, and they had come to be regarded as miscellaneous pieces, _apparently in Spanish_.’ The italicised suggestion reveals a beautiful development of modern philology at Cambridge. Does that state of things continue at the present day? What reason is there to believe the contrary, or what chance of improvement?

[27] The great value of this MS., which is on parchment, and in perfect condition, is proved by a curious endorsement on the last page, dated 1336, to the effect that one Jordan Capella obtained on it a loan of fifteen ‘_livres tournois_,’ by no means an inconsiderable sum in those days.

[28] The poem is written in tirades, or paragraphs of varying lengths, bound together by the same rhyme. At the end of each tirade there is a short line which, in the second portion of the poem, is, as a rule, literally repeated in the first line of the following tirade, while in the first part it only anticipates its rhyme. This difference is the chief metrical evidence against the one-author theory.

[29] The degree of nobility between the Viscount and the simple Baron.

[30] Grave doubts have recently been thrown on the authenticity of this poem. Into these I cannot enter here. But it seems strange that the bearing of the reality or fictitiousness of the ‘courts of love’ on the mooted point should have been entirely overlooked. Chaucer’s visit to France (1359) coincides with the time when amateur judges and juries deciding questions of gallantry were all the rage, and these might very well have suggested to him the symbolical machinery of the poem. But of course the intrinsic probability of Chaucer having written _a_ poem on the ‘Court of Love’ does not amount to much compared with the philological arguments of Mr. Skeat (see ‘Athenæum,’ November 4, 1876). At the same time it seems surprising that neither he nor Mr. Furnivall is apparently acquainted with the historical controversy on the point, in spite of Diez’s admirable work, and of the paper I wrote on the subject in a monthly periodical. If this is true of scholars, what can be expected of the general reader? At this rate the ‘courts of love’ may protract their spurious existence for another century or so—in England at least.

[31] The reader interested in these matters may find some account of Andreas’ book in the pretty little edition of Chaucer for which Mr. Robert Bell is responsible (vol. iv. pp. 116 _et passim_). All the absurd stories of the Chaplain the ingenuous editor accepts as gospel truth. Queen Eleanor, Richard Cœur de Lion, and other worthies are named as the presidents of these amorous parliaments, of which the world knew nothing till hundreds of years after their deaths. Several of the _arrêts d’amour_ are quoted, and the power of the court is said to have extended even to the assessing of pecuniary damages and the inflicting of corporal punishment. This _naïveté_ is the more touching on Mr. Bell’s part, as, unlike Mr. Furnivall and Mr. Skeat, he is acquainted with Diez’s pamphlet. But his faith is proof against the most trenchant criticism.

[32] Westphal, _Fragmente und Lehrsätze der griechischen Rhythmiker_, pp. 14, 101.

[33] _Sat._ 1. i. 28.

[34] _Ars Poet._ 99.

[35] _Ars Poet._ 139.

[36] _Epist._ 1. xiv. 7.

[37] The stanza of the Sestina, as we know, both Dante and Petrarch took from Arnaut Daniel, whom the latter calls—

‘Fra tutti il primo Arnaldo Daniello
Gran maestro d’amor.’

[38] _Opere Minori_, ed. Fraticelli, ii. 212.

[39] In this, as in all other cases, the expression of the ‘Leys d’Amors’ has been used in measuring verses, which, besides being more appropriate for the _langue d’oc_, seems also the more logical.

[40] Clarratz is evidently a mistake; very likely it should be read clartatz = clarté.

[41] Dieresis probably, where it occurs in this treatise, is always a misreading for diesis, which is the proper term for what Dante means.

[42] _Canzoniere_, ed. Giuliani, p. 227.

[43] The meaning of the word coda in modern music is not exactly the same as the one here given by Dante, but might well be derived from it.

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