No More Learning

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.

So, I abandon joy and mirth,

Vair, sable, ermine: I'll naked stand.

Note: Fulk is Foulques V of Anjou (its capital Angers) also known as Foulques the Younger, Count of Anjou 1109-1129, and King of Jerusalem from 1131 to his death in 1143.

Jaufre Rudel (d. c. 1148)

The Castellan of Blaye, he flourished early to mid 12th century and probably died during the Second Crusade, 1147-9.
His 13th century vida or biography claims he fell in love with the Countess of Tripoli without ever having seen her and after taking ship for Tripoli fell ill during the voyage, ultimately dying in the arms of his 'love afar'.

Lanquan li jorn son lonc e may

When the days are long, in May,

Sweet the songs of birds afar,

And when I choose from there to stray,

I bring to mind a love that's far.

I walk face lowered, and I glower,

And neither song nor hawthorn flower,

Can please me more than winter's ice.

I hold the Lord for truth always

By whom was formed this love afar,

But for each good that comes my way

Two ills I find, since she's so far.

Would I were a pilgrim at this hour,

So staff and cloak from her tower,

She'd gaze on with her lovely eyes!

What joy it will be to seek that day,

For love of God, that inn afar,

And, if she wishes, rest, I say,

Near her, though I come from afar,

For words fall in a pleasant shower

When distant lover has the power,

With gentle heart, joy to realise.

Sad, in pain, would I go away,

Should I not see that love afar.

For I don't know when I may

See her, the distance is so far.

So many the roads and ways lower,

That indeed I can say no more,

But let all things be as she likes.

The delights of love I never may

Enjoy, if not joy of my love afar,

No finer, nobler comes my way,

From any quarter: near or far.

So rich and high is her dower,

That there in the Saracen's tower

For her sake I would be their prize.

God that made all that goes or stays

And formed this love from afar

Grant me the power to hope one day

I'll see this love of mine afar,

Truly, and in a pleasant hour,

So that her chamber and her bower,

Might seem a palace to my eyes.

Who calls me covetous, truth to say,

Is right, I long for a love afar,

For no other joy pleases me today

Like the joy in my love from afar.

Yet what I wish is not in my power,

It is my godfather's curse, so sour,

That I love, yet love should be denied.

For what I wish is not in my power,

Cursed my godfather's word so sour,

Who has ruled my love should be denied.

Quan lo rius de la fontana

When the sweet fountain's stream

Runs clear, as it used to do,

And there the wild-roses blow,

And the nightingale, on the bough,

Turns and polishes, and makes gleam

His sweet song, and refines its flow,

It's time I polished mine, it would seem.