The troubadours : $b A history of Provençal life and literature in the middle agesHueffer, Francis
History
The troubadours : $b A history of Provençal life and literature in the middle ages
Hueffer, Francis
Provençal poetry -- History and criticism; Troubadours
Ja deus mi sal, si ja soi amoroza
Coindeta soi;
De lui amar mia sui cobeitoza
Coindeta soi;
Ans qan lo vei ne soi tan vergonhoza
Q’en prec la mort q’el venga tost aucire.
Coindeta soi.
Mas d’una re m’en soi ben acordada
Coindeta soi;
S’il mieus amics m’a s’amor emendada
Coindeta soi;
Vel bel esper a cui me soi donada
Planh e sospir qar nol vei nil remire,
Coindeta soi.
E dirai vos de qem soi acordada
Coindeta soi;
Qel mieus amics m’a longamen amada
Coindeta soi
A li sera m’amors abandonada
El bels espers q’eu tant am e dezire,
Coindeta soi.
En aqest son fas coindeta balada
Coindeta soi;
E prec a totz qe sia lonh cantada,
Coindeta soi;
E qe la chant tota domn’ ensenhada
Del mieu amic q’eu tant am e dezire.
Coindeta soi.
An attempt at translation in prose or verse would be as impossible as it
would be superfluous. The charm lies in the music of the words. Moreover,
the subject is by no means edifying. It is the ever recurring burden of
Provençal poetry: a lady dissatisfied with her husband and openly calling
for death to come and kill him soon in order that she may be united to
her lover.
Essentially identical with the _balada_ is the _dansa_, of which also
several examples are found in the manuscripts. The difference which the
_Leys d’amors_ tries to establish between these and other variations of
the dance-song are evidently pedantic quibbles, and, moreover, not borne
out by the best models.
CHAPTER XI.
ARTIFICIAL FORMS OF POETRY.—THE SESTINA.
In the forms of lyrical verse hitherto considered by us we were
able to trace some popular germs, considerably modified and highly
developed though they might appear. But any such connection ceases in
the numberless variations of verse and stanza, in which the unrivalled
workmanship of the troubadours loved to shine. That this ease of
inventing ever new and ever more complicated combinations frequently led
to excesses of artificiality need not surprise us. Our admiration of the
marvellous ingenuity displayed by the poets is mingled with regret at
seeing it wasted on trifles.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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