This by no means flattering portrait ought to be received with caution; maybe it was drawn by one of the ‘good courtiers’ who had experienced the poet’s cynical humour. A cynic Guillem no doubt was, a lover of low-life realism, defying polite society among his boon companions of the tavern, a genius akin to Rutebœuf, and Villon, and Rabelais. But there is nothing debased or debauched in his poetry, as far as we can judge by the specimens remaining to us, although the unreserved violence of his invective is remarkable even amongst the works of those keenest of satirists, the troubadours. One of his _sirventeses_ is noticeable by the word ‘Rome,’ uttered with the emphasis of hatred at the beginning of every stanza. In it the Church is held responsible for an infinitude of political and moral crimes, and the climax of invective is reached in the final outburst of angry passion. ‘Rome, with wily prudence thou layest thy snares, and many a vile morsel thou devourest in spite of the hungry. Thou hast the semblance of the lamb, thy countenance is so innocent, but in thy heart thou art a rabid wolf, a crowned snake engendered by a viper, wherefore the devil greets thee as the friend of his heart.’ It is a curious fact that the Church on this occasion was valiantly defended by a lady, Gomonde of Montpelier, who pays the furious poet in his own coin, and threatens him with the death of the heretic. Another _sirventes_ by Guillem directed against the vices of the clergy is marked by the same immoderate language, but a foundation of truth is unmistakably at the bottom of his extravagant structure of abuse. The following stanza, for instance, is eminently characteristic of orthodox tactics:— ‘If you say a word against them (the priests), they accuse you, and you find yourself excommunicated. If you refuse to pay, there is no peace or friendship to be hoped from them. Holy Virgin, Lady Mary, let me see the day when I need no longer go in fear of them.’