With my breath I drink the air That Provence my country sends me, For a message ever lends me Joy, from her most dear and fair. When they praise her I rejoice, Ask for more with eager voice, Listen, listen night and morrow. For no country ’neath the sun Beats mine from Rozer to Vensa, From the sea to the Durensa: Nowhere equal joy is won. With my friends, when I did part, And with her I left my heart Who dispelled my deepest sorrow. Nothing harms me all the day While her sweet eyes stand before me, And her lips that rapture bore me. If I praise her, no one may Call my rapturous word a lie, For the whole world can descry Nothing wrought in sweeter fashion. All the good I do or say Only to her grace is owing, For she made me wise and knowing, For she made me true and gay. If in glory I abound, To her praise it must redound Who inspires my song with passion. By such repeated proofs of the poet’s unchangeable love the heart of Azalais, was at last touched. Besides, fool as he was, Peire was undoubtedly one of the most renowned troubadours, and the proudest beauty could not be indifferent to the celebration of her charms in _canzos_ as popular as they were exquisite. Barral importuned his wife till she promised the poet forgiveness of all past offences, and immediately sent the happy message to Peire. Some of the manuscripts say that Azalais wrote him a letter in which she promised him all he had been wishing for so long. Peire Vidal returned to France, and Barral on hearing of his arrival rode out to meet him, and guided him to Marseilles. Azalais received him gracefully, and granted him the kiss he had once taken. All was forgiven and forgotten, and the troubadour commemorated the happy reconciliation by a song radiant with joy and hope. This state of pure happiness, however, was not destined to be of long duration. The lady seems to have been disinclined to fulfil her promises; the complaints in Peire’s _canzos_ of her cruelty and falseness begin anew, and at last he very likely grew tired of his unrewarded pains. Certain it is that he did not stay very long at Marseilles, for he does not make the slightest mention of Barral’s death, which happened soon after, in 1192. This silence would have been impossible if he had been living at the time at his old friend and protector’s court.