Not the great book of Cervantes, as is commonly believed, held up mediaeval court life to ridicule and destroyed it as an ideal, but the life and exploits of this knight and minnesinger. The same spirit animated Guilhem of Balaun. At the command of his lady he had a finger-nail extracted and sent to her, after which he was re-admitted to her favour. Spiritual love was discovered by the Provencals, but the greater and profounder Italian poets developed it and brought it to perfection. What had been a naive sentiment with the troubadours, became in Dante's circle a system of the universe and a religion. The Italian poet, Sordello, who wrote in Provencal, may be regarded as the connecting link, and the forerunner of the great Italians. He died in the year of grace 1270, and Dante, who was almost a contemporary, immortalised his name in the _Divine Comedy_. The doctrine on which the _dolce stil nuovo_ was based pointed to the love of a noble heart as the source of all perfection in heaven and earth. Purely spiritual woman-worship was regarded as an absolute virtue. The words of the last of the Provencal troubadours, Guirot Riquier, "Love is the doctrine of all sublime things"--was developed into a philosophy. I will quote a few characteristic verses, omitting Dante for the present. One of the finest lyric poems of all tongues and ages, written by Guido Guinicelli, begins as follows: Within the gentle heart love shelters him, As birds within the green shades of the grove; Before the gentle heart in nature's scheme Love was not, or the gentle heart ere love. (_Transl. by_ D.G. ROSSETTI.) Cino da Pistoia says in epigrammatic brevity: You want to know the inmost core of love? 'Tis art and guerdon of a noble heart. A wonderful canzone by Guinicelli contains the following verses: A song she seems among the rest and these Have all their beauties in her splendour drowned. In her is ev'ry grace,-- Simplicity of wisdom, noble speech, Accomplished loveliness; All earthly beauty is her diadem. This truth my song must teach-- My lady is of ladies chosen gem. (_Transl. by_ D.G. ROSSETTI.) And Cavalcanti sings: What's she whose coming rivets all men's eyes, Who makes the air so tremble with delight, And thrills so every heart that no man might Find tongue for words but vents his soul in sighs? (_Transl. by_ SIR THEODORE MARTIN.)