Very different from this is the second and larger class of _tensos_, in which two real troubadours discuss some subject of every-day life and love. The variety of topics makes this part of the literature an especially valuable source for the study of Provençal customs and morals. Sometimes an abstract problem is started, such as the respective advantages of wealth and wisdom, very seriously discussed by two minor troubadours. ‘I would sooner possess wisdom,’ says the virtuous Guillem, ‘which must remain with me, than wealth, which in my opinion is of little avail to those who possess it. For one can easily fall from high to low estate, but science does not fall, because she is seated firmly. He who possesses wisdom is rich in his shirt.’ But his antagonist, nothing daunted, upholds the advantages of the independence and freedom from care derived from the possession of riches. ‘Even Aristotle,’ he replies, ‘the foremost among the wise, accepted presents, and so did Virgil, he who lies buried near the strand at Naples. I prefer giving to asking.’ The heavy artillery of learning having thus been brought into action, the troubadours continue for some time to pelt each other with classical and Biblical names and facts, without, however, producing the slightest impression on the hostile positions. Finally, both appeal to the arbitration of a mutual friend, as is their wont in such cases. Infinitely more interesting, although less edifying, is a _tenso_ in which two celebrated troubadours, Bernart de Ventadorn and Peirol, express their opinions as to the mutual relations of personal feeling and artistic creation. Here we have no longer to deal with a logical fencing-match, but with the utterance of personal experience. Such a maxim as ‘Little is worth the song that does not come from the heart,’ expressed by Peirol, reflects the highest credit on the psychological and poetic insight of that troubadour. On the other hand, it is amusing to watch the attitude of a light-hearted poet and lover, treating his muse as he treats his mistress, and winding up with something very like a boast of secret favours—which Bernart de Ventadorn assumes, and which is strangely at variance with the gentle sentimental character of his life and work. Believers in the migration of fables will be pleased to find here a slightly altered version of the old story of ‘fox and grapes,’ and the poem as a whole may be regarded as an admirable specimen of the elegant grace of Provençal thought and versification. For these reasons it may follow here as transcribed by Professor Bartsch:— BERNARTZ DE VENTADORN E’ N PEIROLS. ‘Peirol, cum avetz tant estat Que non fezetz vers ni chanso? Respondetz mi per cal razo, S’o laissetz per mal o per be, Per ir’ o per joi o per que? Que saber en voill la vertat.’