No More Learning

My lady shows herself, not to my good,

A woman indeed, scorns my behest,

Since she wishes not what she should

But what's forbidden her finds best.

Now I'm fallen from all grace,

I've done well on the asses' bridge!

And don't know why I'm in disgrace,

Except I've asked a world too much.

Mercy's lost, and gone from sight

And now I can retrieve it not.

Since she who owns to it of right

Has none to give, and where's it sought?

How little it seems to those who see -

What would she want with me poor wretch? -

That without her nothing's here for me,

She lets me die who've no help left.

Since with my lady there's no use

In prayers, her pity, or pleading law,

Nor is she pleased at the news

I love her: then I'll say no more,

And so depart and swear it's done!

I'm dead: by death I'll answer her,

And off I'll go: she'll see me gone,

To wretched exile, who knows where?

Tristram, none will hear of me:

Off I'll go, who knows where?

I'll sing no more, resigned I'll be,

And banish joy and love of her.

Note: Pound adapts and utilises phrases from verse 1, 'qual cor mi vai: that goes to my heart' at the start of Canto XCI; 'es laissa cader: lets fall' and 'de joi sas alas: with joy, its wings' in Notes for Canto CXVII et seq.

Tant ai mo cor ple de joya

So full is my heart of joy now,

All is changed for me.

Flowering red, white, and yellow,

The winter seems to be,

For, with the wind and rain, so

My fortune's bright I see,

My songs they rise, and grow

My worth proportionately.

Such love in my heart I find,

Such joy and sweetness mine,

Ice turns to flowers fine

And snow to greenery.
I go without my clothes now,

One thin shirt for me,

For noble love protects now

From the chilly breeze.

But he's mad who'll not follow

Custom and harmony,

So I've taken care I vow

Since I sought to be

Lover of loveliest,

To be with honour blest:

Of her riches I'd not divest

For Pisa, for Italy.

From her friendship I'm severed

Yet my faith's so in place,

That I can barely counter

The beauty of her face.

I cannot hope to wed here

Such happiness and grace,

On the day when I see her

Weightlessness I taste.

To Love my heart's as near

As body to spirit clear,

Though she is far from here,

Fair France where I am placed.

I'm full of hope that's true now.

But that's little use to me,

She holds me in suspense I vow

Like a ship upon the sea.

From sad thoughts that follow,

I cannot win free.

Each night, head on pillow,

I turn fretfully.

More pain of love I suffer

Than Tristan the lover,

Who felt much dolour

For Iseult, her beauty.

Oh God were I a swallow

Flying through the air,

Rising from the depths below

Where I now despair.

Sweet and joyous lady, know

Without your loving, there,

I die, my heart it breaks so

The pulse is scarcely there.

My lady for your grace

I clasp my hands and pray

Lithe body and fresh face,

Have brought me many a care.

The world and its affairs

Could not absorb me so,

That when men spoke of her

My heart it would not glow,

My face not brighten there.

When I speak of her also

You'll quickly judge I care

Seeing my laughter grow.

My love for her's so deep

Often too I must weep,

So that my sighs taste sweet

Sweeter for tears they share.