For her great love the uttermost shall proffer Of honour, wealth, and earthly joy and bliss, With her to love, my heart will never miss Those who no gifts like her gifts have to offer. She the fulfilment is of my desire, Therefore I vow myself her true esquire; She'll love me in return--my splendid meed-- If I but love aright in word and deed. and one of his rather more religious songs ends as follows: Without true love there is on earth no peace, Love gives us wisdom, faith which will not swerve, A noble mind and willingness to serve. How rare a thing on earth in perfect ease! To Thee, oh Virgin! Mother of all love, I dedicate this song; if thou deniest Me not, thou shall be my "sweet bliss." With Christ I pray Thee, intercede for me above. In this song, then, he calls Mary "his sweet bliss" (_bel deport_), a name which he had previously given to a certain countess with whom he had been in love. In the next poem, in which earthly love and love of the Madonna are again brought into juxta-position, he commends himself "to the Virgin, the sublime mother of love, on whom all my happiness depends." One of his poems which begins in quite an earthly strain, ends thus: I feel no jealousy; for he whose soul Is filled with yearning for his heavenly love, Has purest happiness; he is her serf, And he has all things that his heart can crave. But long before this, in one of his very worldly poems there is a sudden outburst, addressed to the Madonna: "He who does not serve the Mother of God, knows not the meaning of love." Excellent proof of this intimate connection between earthly and Madonna love is found in the poems of the trouvere Ruteboeuf, who calls Mary his "very sweet lady." Lanfranc Cigala wrote genuine love-songs to the Virgin. The following are two stanzas from one of his poems: I worship a celestial maid, Serene and wondrously adorned; And all she does is well; arrayed In noble love and gentleness. Her smile is bliss to all who mourn, Her tender love is happiness, And for her kiss the world I scorn. Lady of Heaven, Thy heart incline To me, and untold bliss is mine. By day and night my only thought Art, Mary, Thou. I am distraught Say many men, for few can gauge The ardour which consumes my soul. I care not that they say bereft I am of sense; the world I've left, To worship Thee, love's spring and goal. But other poems written by Cigala are unmistakably addressed to the celestial Madonna; some of them seem to be written in a penitential mood; he almost seems to repent of his former passionate adoration. The same poet, in his love-songs, uses all the metaphors which are commonly used for Mary (or for Christ), "root and climax, flower, fruit and seed of all goodness." A little older is an erotic hymn to Mary by Peire Guillem of Luserna; I quote a few stanzas: