His younger brother John
succeeded
him as king.
Troubador Verse
Firm heart a man needs, that suffers here.
Dead is the king, and a thousand years gone
Since one of such worth was, such vile loss,
Nor was ever a man like him, not one,
So brave, so free, so generous, giving,
That none half as much or more has given,
Since Alexander thrashed Darius;
Not Charlemagne, nor Arthur, as valorous
As he who made men, if truth appear,
Either rejoice in him, or shake with fear.
I marvel that in this false world not one
Generous or courteous man should exist,
None now value good words, fine action,
And why should a man aim high or low?
Now Death has shown us his mighty blow,
Who at one stroke takes the best there is,
All honour, worth, oh, all good we miss;
Now he sees there is none to shield us,
A man may dread his own dying less.
Ai! Brave lordly king, what's to be done
With our vast armies, great tournaments,
Bright courts, and fine gifts and handsome,
If you're gone, that had their captaining?
What's to be done for those suffering,
All those for your good service meant,
Who waited on you, life's ornament?
What's to be done with them, in despair,
Whom you brought to great riches there?
A wretched life and worse death they'll win,
A grievous time, whether far or near;
And Saracen, Turk, Persian, Paynim,
Who, more than all, found you to dread,
Will grow in pride and power instead.
More slowly we'll gain the Sepulchre;
God wills so, for did he not, it's clear,
That if you, lord, had lived, unfailingly,
From Syria they'd have sought to flee.
No longer have I hope, through grace,
Some king or prince might all oversee;
For those who will occupy your place,
Needs have regard to their love of worth,
Your two brave brothers are under earth;
The Young King, noble Count Geoffrey,
And who remains to replace these three?
He'll need a lofty heart, firm thought,
To work good deeds, aid those he ought.
Ah, Lord God, You, our true pardoner,
True God: true man, true life, have mercy on
Him, who has pressing need of it, pardon,
And Lord, oh, look not on his error,
But how he served you, oh, now remember!
Note: Richard I, the Lion Heart, was killed at the minor siege of Chalus-Chabrol in 1199, by a stray bolt from a crossbow. Of his two elder brothers, the Young King, Henry, had died in 1183, and Geoffrey, Duke of Brittany, in 1186.
His younger brother John succeeded him as king.
Peire Cardenal (c. 1180-c. 1278)
Peire Cardenal, or Cardinal was born in Le Puy-en-Velay educated as a canon, but abandoned his career in the church for 'the vanity of this world' according to his vida. He began his career at the court of Raymond VI of Toulouse and subsequently travelled widely, visiting the court of James I of Aragon. He died at an advanced age in Montpellier.
Vera vergena Maria
Truest Virgin, our Maria
True of life, and true of faith,
True in truth, and our truth clear,
True in virtue, the true way,
Truest friend, truest mother,
True in love, true mercy's ray,
Through true mercy now declare
Among your heirs I'll be one day.
Lady, grant this, if you please,
That from your son to us flow Peace.
You repair for us the folly
That saw Adam overcome;
You, the star, guiding gently
Pilgrims passing through our land;
You then are the Dawn of day
To which the son of God is Sun,
Shining warmly, shining brightly,
Of true righteousness the sum.
Lady, grant this, if you please,
That from your son to us flow Peace.
You were born in Syria,
Gentle, poor in worldly goods;
Ever humble, pious, purer,
In all done, said, understood,
Fashioned by such a Master,
Without all evil, with all good,
Of such sweet company there
That in you was harboured God.
Lady, grant this, if you please,
That from your son to us flow Peace.
He, who in you puts his trust,
Needs no other for defence,
Such that if the world were lost
He will not be carried hence;
Before your worth, the mightiest
Is humbled, if the man has sense,
And your son will not protest
At your wish, takes no offence.
Lady, grant this, if you please,
That from your son to us flow Peace.
David in his prophecies
Says, in a psalm of old,
That at God's right hand will be,
Near the King that law foretold,
A Queen who in finery
Will be dressed, in vair and gold.
Without fail you are she,
No plea to you can be too bold.
