No More Learning

Estat ai en greu cossirier

I've been in great distress of mind,

About a knight whom I possessed,

How I've loved him to excess

I want known, throughout all time;

Now I feel myself betrayed

Because I did not tell my love,

In great torment so I prove,

In bed or in my clothes arrayed.

Would that I might hold my knight

Till morning naked in my arms,

Intoxicated by my charms

He'd think himself in paradise;

For more pleased with him am I

Than Floris was with Blancheflor:

I grant him my heart, my amour,

My eyes, my mind, and my life.

Sweet friend, so good so gracious

When shall I have you in my power,

And lie with you at midnight hour,

And grant you kisses amorous?

Know, great desire I nurture too

To have you in my husband's place,

As soon as you grant me, with grace,

To do all that I'd have you do.

Note: Floris and Blancheflor are Floris and Blancheflour lovers in a popular romance found in many different vernacular languages and versions. It first appears in Europe around 1160 in 'aristocratic' French, and was popular well into the fourteenth century. The poem tells of the troubles of two lovers: Blancheflour, or Blancheflor ('white flower') being a Christian princess abducted by Saracens and raised with the pagan prince Flores or Floris or Floire ('belonging to the flower') The Muslim/Christian tale is often set in Andalusia where there is a famous Granadan variant. Aucassin and Nicolette has a similar context.

A chantar m'er de so qu'ieu no volria

Now I must sing of what I would not do,

Complain of him I confess to loving true;

I love him more than any the world can view:

Yet my grace and courtesy own no value,

Nor my beauty, my worthiness, my mind;

I'm deceived, betrayed, as would be my due,

If the slightest charm in me he failed to find.

I solace myself with this, I was false never

My friend, to you, neither in acts nor manner;

I love you more than Seguis loved Valensa;

To conquer you in love gives me more pleasure,

Dear friend, for, of all, you are the worthiest;

Yet proud to me in deeds and what you utter,

Though you seem humble towards all the rest.

I marvel at the pride your heart dares display

To me, friend, the cause why I weep all day,

And it's wrong that another draws you away,

Whatever she does, whatever she might say,

And however it may recall the true beginning

Of our love: the good God wishes in no way

That any fault of mine should cause its ending.

From the great gallantry lodged in your heart,

And the rich worth you own, my torments start;

For I know no lady near to you or afar,

Desiring love, who towards you would not draw:

Yet you, dear friend, are of such fine judgement

You ought to know who the sincerest are;

And remember, remember our agreement.

My worth should help me and my nobility,

My beauty, and more my own heart's loyalty;

That's why I send now, wherever you may be,

This song to act as a messenger from me;

I wish to know, my sweet and gentle friend,

Why to me so harsh and full of cruelty;

I'd know if it's pride, or ill-will in the end.

And I'd have him say, this messenger I send,

That excess of pride works harm on many men.

Notes: Seguis and Valenca, or Seguin and Valence, a pair of lovers in a lost romance, are mentioned also by Arnaut de Mareuil.
The covinens, the 'agreement', mentioned at the end of the fourth verse is the standard term for the concordia that ended conflicts in eleventh and twelfth-century Occitania. Here it is used to reinforce the sense of a binding love.

Arnaut de Mareuil (late 12th century)

The name is spelt variously, from Maroil, to Miroilh. The vida has Arnaut as a poor clerk from the castle of Mareuil in Perigord. He was a joglar at the court of the Countess of Burlatz, Azalais of Toulouse, daughter of Count Raimon V. In 1171 she married Roger II, Viscount of Beziers and Cacassonne, called Talliafero, or Taillefer. She was loved by Alfons II of Aragon, d. 1196. Arnaut was dismissed, and found refuge with Guillem VIII de Montpellier, d. 1202, a noted sponsor of joglars.

Bel m'es quan lo vens m'alena

It's sweet when the breeze blows softly,

As April turns into May,

And in tranquil night above me,

Sing the nightingale and jay.

When each bird in his sweet language,

In the freshness of the morn

Sings, joyful of his advantage,

At ease with his mate, at dawn.

As all things on earth have joy so,

Are happy when leaves appear,

Then I'll recall a love I know

And rejoice in all the year.

By past usage and by nature,

It seems now that I must turn

Where soft winds revive the creature,

And heart must dream and yearn.

Whiter she is than Helen was,

The loveliest flower of May,

Full of courtesy, sweet lips she has,

And ever true word does say.

Open-hearted, her manner free,

Fresh colour and golden hair,

God who grants her all sovereignty

Preserve her, the best is there.