The troubadours' spring celebrations of kalenda maia and their courtly worship of 'the lady' probably drew on
remnants
of pre-Christian worship.
Troubador Verse
But now I'm vexed by the dawn,
And the sorrows, that day brings nigh,
Make me sigh,
More than the dawn
The dawn, oh, the dawn!
Keep a watch, watchman there, on the tower,
For your lord: jealously he holds power,
He's more vexing than the dawn:
While words of love we speak here.
But our fear
Comes with the dawn,
The dawn, oh, the dawn!
Lady, adieu! No longer dare I stay;
Despite my wish, I must be away.
Yet heavily weighs the dawn,
How soon we'll see the day;
To betray
Us, wills the dawn,
The dawn, oh, the dawn!
Kalenda maia
Calends of May
Nor leafy spray
Nor songs of birds, nor flowers gay
Please me today
My Lady, nay,
Lest there's a fine message I pray
From your loveliness, to relay
The pleasures new love and joy may
Display
And I'll play
For you, true lady, I say,
And lay
By the way
The jealous ones, ere I go away.
My belle amie
Let it not be
That any man scorns me from jealousy,
He'd pay me,
Dearly indeed
If lovers were parted by such as he;
Never would I live happily,
No happiness without you I see;
I'd flee
Run free
No man would find me readily;
An end
Of me,
Fine Lady, were you lost utterly.
How could I lose her
Replace her ever
Any fine Lady, before I had her?
No beloved or lover
Is just a dreamer;
When he's a lover, no more a suitor,
He has accrued a signal honour,
A sweet glance produces such colours;
Yet I here
Have never
Held you naked, nor any other;
Longed for,
Lived for,
You without pay, I have though, forever.
I'd be sadder
Should we part ever,
Sorrowful, my Beautiful Warrior,
For my heart never
Seems to deliver
Me from desire
Nor slakes it further;
Gives pleasure only to the slanderer
He, my lady, who finds no other
Joy, the man there
Who'd feel my utter
Loss, and thanks would offer,
And consider
Insolent starer
You, the one from whom I suffer.
Flowers so kindly,
Over all brightly,
Noble Beatrice, and grows so sweetly
Your Honour to me;
For as I see,
Value adorns your sovereignty,
And, to be sure, the sweetest speech;
Of gracious deeds you are the seed;
Verity,
Mercy,
You have: and great learning truly;
Bravery
Plainly,
Decked, with your generosity.
Lady so graced,
All acclaimed and have praised
Your worth with pleasure freighted;
Who forgets, instead,
May as well be dead,
I adore, you, the ever-exalted;
Since you have the kindest head,
And are best, and the worthiest bred,
I've flattered
I've served
More truly than Erec Enida.
Words are fled,
All is said,
Sweet Engles - my estampida.
Notes: The Calends, Latin Kalendae, corresponded to the first days of each month of the Roman calendar, signifying the start of the new moon cycle.
The troubadours' spring celebrations of kalenda maia and their courtly worship of 'the lady' probably drew on remnants of pre-Christian worship. Pound mentions Kalenda Maya in Canto CXIII.
Engles is Boniface Marquess of Montferrat (c1150-1207), leader of the Fourth Crusade, called here Engles, the 'Englishman', for some unknown reason. His eldest daughter was Biatrix.
Beatrice here is probably Boniface's daughter Biatrix. The vida claims that Raimbaut spied on Beatrice in her shift practising with her husband's sword, after which he called her his Bel Cavalier.
Erec et Enide is Chretien de Troyes' first romance, completed around 1170 and the earliest known Arthurian work in Old French. It tells the tale of Erec, one of Arthur's knights, and the conflict between love and knighthood he experiences in his marriage to Enide.
The Estampida, a medieval dance and musical form called the estampie in French, and istampitta (also istanpitta or stampita) in Italian was a popular instrumental style of the 13th and 14th centuries. The earliest reported example of the musical form is this song Kalenda Maya, supposedly written to the melody of an estampida played by French jongleurs. All other known examples are purely instrumental pieces.
Guillem de Cabestan (1162-1212)
A Catalan from Capestany in the County of Roussillon, his name in Occitan is Guilhem de Cabestaing, Cabestang, Cabestan, or Cabestanh. According to his legendary vida, he was the lover of Seremonda, or Soremonda, wife of Raimon of Castel Rossillon. Raimon killed Cabestan, and fed the lover's heart to her without her knowledge. On discovering what she had eaten, she threw herself from a window to her death. The legend appears later in Boccaccio's Decameron.
