The lady's
delightful
and greatly pleases
Her beauty draws to her many gazes,
Yet in her heart love loyally blazes,
Ah, God, Ah, God, the dawn!
Her beauty draws to her many gazes,
Yet in her heart love loyally blazes,
Ah, God, Ah, God, the dawn!
Troubador Verse
Till the watchman on the tower
Cries loudly: Lovers, now arise!
I see the dawn, and day's clear skies.
En un vergier sotz fuella d'albespi
In a deep bower under a hawthorn-tree
The lady clings to her lover closely,
Till the watchman cries the dawn he sees,
Ah, God, Ah, God, the dawn! Is here so soon.
'Please God, now, night fail us not cruelly,
Nor my friend be parted far from me,
Nor day nor dawn, let the watchman see!
Ah, God, Ah, God, the dawn! Is here so soon.
Fine gentle friend, let us kiss, you and I,
Down in the meadow, where sweet birds sigh,
And all to each other, despite jealous eye.
Ah, God, Ah, God, the dawn! Is here so soon.
Fine gentle friend, we'll have sweet loving,
In the garden, where the small birds sing,
Till the watch his pipe sets echoing,
Ah, God, Ah, God, the dawn! Is here so soon.
Out of the sweet air that rises from my
Dear friend who's noble, handsome, and bright,
By his breath I'm touched, like a ray of light. '
Ah, God, Ah, God, the dawn! Is here so soon.
The lady's delightful and greatly pleases
Her beauty draws to her many gazes,
Yet in her heart love loyally blazes,
Ah, God, Ah, God, the dawn! Is here so soon.
Note: The Occitan caramehl, the 'pipe' of verse four, is the 'chalumeau' in use in France from the twelfth century. The word refers to various sorts of pipes, some of which were made of cane and featured a single 'reed' cut into the side of the cane itself.
Anonymous Balade (13th century or later)
Mort m'an li semblan que madona? m fai
The glance that my lady darts at me must slay,
Born of her sweet eyes amorous and gay.
If I have none of her let me die alway;
The glance that my lady darts at me must slay.
On my knees I shall beg of her today;
The glance that my lady darts at me must slay.
Humbly before her then I go to pray;
That she solace me, one sweet kiss I'd weigh.
The glance that my lady darts at me must slay,
Born of her sweet eyes amorous and gay.
Her body's white as snow that on glacier lay,
The glance that my lady darts at me must slay.
Fresh is her colour as a rose in May,
The glance that my lady darts at me must slay.
Her hair, red gold, pleases in every way,
Softer and sweeter than a man can say.
The glance that my lady darts at me must slay,
Born of her sweet eyes amorous and gay.
God made none so beautiful nor may,
The glance that my lady darts at me must slay.
Her body I'll love, forever and a day,
The glance that my lady darts at me must slay.
