The historic identity of Guillem de Cabestanh, a celebrated poet of the fourteenth century, is sufficiently proved, and there is no intrinsic or external reason to doubt that he was enamoured of a married lady, and killed by her jealous husband. It is also by no means unlikely that the discovery was brought about by an unguarded expression in one of the poet’s songs, although this circumstance is not mentioned in the oldest and simplest version. The chronologically second version, on the contrary, lays great stress on this interesting fact, naming the fatal song—none other than the beautiful and popular canzo, ‘Li dous cossire,’ already referred to. Here, then, we discover the clue to the numerous romantic additions of the later versions, which could be made with the greater impunity, as the real circumstances of the story began to fade from the memory of men. For most of these additions are evidently invented with a view to connecting this particular song with the tragic fate of the poet—an idea by no means wanting in poetic beauty, although not borne out by the dry facts of history. The ingenious way in which this connection is attempted is particularly shown in one of the manuscripts where the actual passage of the song from which Raimon is said to have derived his knowledge is quoted. The words run: Tot qan faz per temensa Devez en bona fei, Prendre neis qan nous vei. In English, ‘All I am compelled to do by fear, you must accept in good faith, even if I do not see you.’ At first sight the suggestion seems plausible. The song, as we know, was written to account for Guillem’s apparent faithlessness, and to the jealous suspicion of the husband the allusion might seem plain enough. But it must be borne in mind that Raimon was not supposed to know to whom Guillem’s songs were addressed. After he had once found out that the poet spoke of his wife and to his wife in such a manner as is done in the _canzo_ in question, the further discovery of any particularly suggestive passage was quite unnecessary. The idea of connecting a song treating of the ordinary incidents of a love-affair with the death of the poet is evidently an after-thought, although by no means an inappropriate one. The author of the version followed by me in the above shows the highest degree of inventive boldness by adding entirely new incidents (_e.g._, the visit to Castle Liet), and rendering _verbatim_ long conversations, of which no cognisance could possibly have been obtained.