A TRANSLATION
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ROM THE PROVENÇAL OF EN BERTRANS DE BORN. =“Dompna pois de me no’us cal”= Lady, since you care nothing for me,And since you have shut me away from youCauselessly,I know not where to go seeking,For certainlyI will never again gatherJoy so rich, and if I find not everA lady with look so speakingTo my desire, worth yours whom I have lost,I’ll have no other love at any cost. And since I could not find a peer to you,Neither one so fair, nor of such heart,So eager and alert,Nor with such artIn attire, nor so gayNor with gift so bountiful and so true,I will go out a-searching,Culling from each a fair traitTo make me a borrowed ladyTill I again find you ready. Bels Cembelins, I take of you your colour,For it’s your own, and your glanceWhere love is,A proud thing I do here,For, as to colour and eyesI shall have missed nothing at all,Having yours.I ask of Midons Aelis (of Montfort)Her straight speech free-running,That my phantom lack not in cunning. At Chalais of the Viscountess, I wouldThat she give me outrightHer two hands and her throat,So take I my roadTo Rochechouart,Swift-foot to my Lady Anhes,Seeing that Tristan’s lady Iseutz had neverSuch grace of locks, I do ye to wit,Though she’d the far fame for it. Of Audiart at Malemort,Though she with a full heartWish me ill,I’d have her form that’s lacedSo cunningly,Without blemish, for her loveBreaks not nor turns aside.I of Miels-de-ben demandHer straight fresh body,She is so supple and young,Her robes can but do her wrong. Her white teeth, of the Lady FaiditaI ask, and the fine courtesyShe hath to welcome one,And such replies she lavishesWithin her nest;Of Bels Mirals, the rest,Tall stature and gaiety,To make these availShe knoweth well, betideNo change nor turning aside. Ah, Bels Senher, Maent, at lastI ask naught from you,Save that I have such hunger forThis phantomAs I’ve for you, such flame-lap,And yet I’d ratherAsk of you than hold another,Mayhap, right close and kissed.Ah, lady, why have you castMe out, knowing you hold me so fast!
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