The slight favours she granted him were overbalanced by outbreaks of bad temper, and worst of all she began to find something ridiculous in the rather eccentric proofs of Peire’s unchanged devotion. At last an inconsiderate outbreak of his passion resulted in his being for a long time banished from her presence. One day, early in the morning, Count Barral had risen, and Azalais remained alone in her room. Of this occasion the enamoured troubadour availed himself to go there in secret. He knelt down before her couch and kissed the lips of his slumbering love. At first she believed him to be her husband, and smiled kindly, but when she fully awoke and saw it was the ‘fool’ Peire Vidal who had taken this liberty, she grew furious, and began to weep and to raise a great clamour. Her attendants rushed into the room, and the importunate intruder had a narrow escape of being severely punished on the spot. The lady immediately sent for her husband, and begged him to avenge Peire’s impertinence; but Count Barral, in accordance with the opinion of his time, did not consider the offence an unpardonable one, and reproved the lady for having made so much of a fool’s oddities. He did not, however, succeed in softening her wrath; she made the story known all over the country, and uttered such terrible threats that the poet began to fear for his safety, and preferred to wait abroad for a change in his favour. He went to Genoa, and soon afterwards, according to some manuscripts, followed King Richard on his crusade to the Holy Land. Though this latter assertion is, for chronological reasons, not very probable, yet Peire’s voyage to Palestine cannot be doubted. Here he composed the little song of love and homesickness which I have attempted to translate, following the original closely, but the tender grace and melodious charm of which it would be impossible to reproduce in our Northern idiom: CANZO. Ab l’alen tir vas me l’aire Qu’eu sen venir de Proensa; Tot quant es de lai m’agensa, Si que, quan n’aug ben retraire, Eu m’o escout en rizen; En deman per un mot cen: Tan m’es bel quan n’aug ben dire. Qu’om no sap tan dous repaire Cum de Rozer tro qu’a Vensa, Si cum clau mars e Durensa, Ni on tan fis jois s’esclaire. Per qu’entre la franca gen Ai laissat mon cor jauzen Ab leis que fals iratz rire. Qu’om no pot lo jorn maltraire Qu’aja de leis sovinensa, Qu’en leis nais jois e comensa. E qui qu’en sia lauzaire, De ben qu’en diga noi men, Quel melher es ses conten El genser qu’el mon se mire. E s’eu sai ren dir ni faire, Ilh n’ajal grat, que sciensa M’a donat e conoissensa, Per qu’eu sui gais e chantaire. E tot quan fauc d’avinen Ai del seu bel cors plazen, Neis quan de bon cor consire. _Translation._