No More Learning

My Stephen, though here I keep my berth,

There presently,

I trust you'll read this, and of its worth

Give guarantee.

Mout jauzens me prenc en amar

Great the joy that I take in love,

A joy where I can take my ease,

And then in joy turn as I please,

Once more with the best I move,

For I am honoured, she's above

The best that man can hear or see.

I, as you know, small credit take,

Nor for myself claim any power,

Yet if ever a joy should flower,

This one should, and overtake

All others, Earth from shadows wake

Like the sun in a gloomy hour.

No man can fashion such a thing,

By no wish of his, no desire,

Nor by thought or dream aspire

To such joy, as she will bring,

All year I could her praises sing

And not tell all before I tire.

All joys are humbled, all must dance

To her law, and all lords obey

My lady, with her lovely way

Of greeting, her sweet pleasant glance,

A hundred years of life I'd grant

To him who has her love in play.

Her joy can make the sick man well,

And through her anger too he dies,

And fools she fashions of the wise,

And handsome men age at her spell,

And status, wealth she can dispel

And raise the beggar to the skies.

Since man can find no better here,

That lips can tell of, eyes can see,

I wish to keep her close by me.

To render my heart fresh and clear,

Renew the flesh too, so the sere

Winds of age blow invisibly.

If she'll grant her love in measure,

My gratitude I'll then declare,

And conceal it and flatter there,

Speak and act all for her pleasure;

Carefully I'll prize my treasure,

And sing her praises everywhere.

I daren't send this by another,

I have such fear of her disdain,

Nor go myself, and go in vain,

Nor forcefully make love to her;

Yet she must know I am better

Since she heals my wound again.

Farai chansoneta nueva

I'll make a little song that's new,

Before wind, frost, and rain come too;

My lady tests me, and would prove

How, and in just what way, I am

In love, yet despite all she may do

I'd rather be stuck here in this jam.

I'd rather deliver myself and render

Whatever will write me in her charter,

No, don't think I'm under the weather,

If in love with my fine lady I am,

Since it seems I can't live without her,

So great the hunger of sire for dam.

For she is whiter than ivory,

So there can be no other for me.

If there's no help for this, and swiftly,

And my fine lady love me, goddamn,

I'll die, by the head of Saint Gregory,

If she'll not kiss me, wherever I am!

What good will it be to you, sweet lady,

If your love keeps you distant from me?
Are you hankering after a nunnery?

Know this then: so in love I am,

I'm fearful lest pure sadness claim me,

If you don't right my wrongs, madam.

What good if I seek a monastery,

And you don't keep tight hold of me?

All the joy of the world we'd see,

Lady if we were ewe and ram.

To my friend Daurostre, I make this plea,

That he sing (not bray) this at my command:

For her I shiver and tremble,

Since with her I so in love am;

Never did any her resemble,

In beauty, since Eve knew Adam.

Pos de chantar m'es pres talentz

Since my mood urges me to sing

I'll make a verse, of my grieving:

Yet not serve Love in anything,

In Poitou or in Limousin.

Now to exile I have come:

In great fear and danger's room,

And fierce war I'll leave my son,

By his neighbours ill is planned.

This parting now makes me rue

The Seigneury of Poitou!

Fulk of Angers keeps it true,

With his kin, all the land.

If Fulk fails these lands to succour,

And the king, from whom's my honour,

Then that crew will bring dishonour

Gascon felons and Angevin.

If neither good nor worth he knows,

When I'm gone from you, suppose

They'll quickly cause his overthrow

Knowing him young: but half a man.

Mercy I ask of each companion,

If I have wronged him may he pardon;

And I ask it of Jesus in heaven

Both in Latin and Romance.

I was of joy and chivalry,

But now of both I must be free;

And to Him I now take me,

Where sinner finds his goal at hand.

Happiness, gaiety have I seen

But our Lord bans what has been;

Will not suffer such ill scenes,

When so near my end I stand.

All have I left for love of Him,

Chivalry and pride grow dim;

And if God please, he'll gather me in,

And I pray keep me at his right hand.

I ask that my friends at my death

Come but to honour my last breath,

For I have had both joy and mirth

Near and far, and in palace grand.