No More Learning

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.

I'd be blessed, if she'd not treat me

To endless quarrelling here,

But grant me a kiss discretely

For my service costs me dear.

Then we'd go on a brief journey,

Often, a fine short play;

For her sweet body has led me

Willingly on that way.

Arnaut Daniel (fl. 1180-1210)

Arnaut Daniel de Riberac, of Ribeyrac in Perigord, was praised, in Dante's Purgatorio, by Guido Guinicelli, as il miglior fabbro, the better maker, and called the Grand Master of Love by Petrarch. Riberac is on the left bank of the Dronne in the Dordogne.

'Ieu sui Arnautz qu'amas l'aura

e chatz la lebre ab lo bueu

e nadi contra suberna. '

'I am Arnaut who nets the breeze

and with an ox pursues the hare

and swims against the rising seas. '

Sols sui qui sai lo sobrafan que? m sortz

I am the one that knows the pain that flows

Through loving hearts that suffer love's excess,

For my desire is ever so firm and whole

I have never denied her, never wandered

From one I so desired at once and ever:

Far from her, now, I call to her urgently,

Though when she's here I know not what to say.

My blindness, my deafness to others shows

That only her I see, and hear, and bless,

And I offer her no false flatteries so,

For the heart more than the mouth gives word;

That in field, plain, hill, vale, though I go everywhere

I'd not discern all qualities in one sole body,

Only hers, where God sets them all today.

Many a goodly court my presence knows,

Yet in her there's more that does impress,

Measure and wit and other virtue glows

Beauty, youth, good manners, actions stir,

Of courtesy she has well-learnt her share

Of all displeasing things I find her free

I think no good thing lacking anyway.

No joy for me were too brief that arose

From her: I hope that she might guess,

For of me she'll otherwise not know,

Since the heart such words can scarce utter,

That the Rhone, its swollen waters there,

No fiercer than my heart flows inwardly,

Nor floods more with love, when on her I gaze.

Solace and joy seem false from those

Other girls, none share her worthiness,

Her solace exceeds all others though,

Ay, alas, ill times if I do not have her,

Yet the anguish brings me joy so fair,

For thinking brings desire of her lustily:

God, if I might have her some other way!

No play ever pleased more, you may suppose,

Nothing could bring the heart more happiness,

Than this, of which no evil rumours grow

All publicly, to me alone its treasure;

I speak too openly?