THAT IS, PRINCE HENRY PLANTAGENET,
ELDER BROTHER TO RICHARD “CŒUR DE LION”
From the Provençal of Bertrans de Born,
“Si tuit li dol elh plor elh marrimen.”
IF all the grief and woe and bitterness,
All dolour, ill and every evil chance
That ever came upon this grieving world
Were set together, they would seem but light
Against the death of the young English King.
Worth lieth riven and Youth dolorous,
The world o’ershadowed, soiled and overcast,
Void of all joy and full of ire and sadness.
Grieving and sad and full of bitterness
Are left in teen the liegemen courteous,
The joglars supple and the troubadours.
O’er much hath ta’en Sir Death, that deadly warrior,
In taking from them the young English King,
Who made the freest hand seem covetous.
’Las! Never was nor will be in this world
The balance for this loss in ire and sadness!
O skilful Death and full of bitterness,
Well mayst thou boast that thou the best chevalier
That any folk e’er had, hast from us taken;
Sith nothing is that unto worth pertaineth
But had its life in the young English King,
And better were it, should God grant his pleasure
That he should live than many a living dastard
From this faint world, now full of bitterness
Love takes his way and holds his joy deceitful,
Sith no thing is but turneth unto anguish
And each to-day ’vails less than yestere’en,
Let each man visage this young English King
That was most valiant mid all worthiest men!
Gone is his body fine and amorous,
Whence have we grief, discord and deepest sadness.
Him, whom it pleased for our great bitterness
To come to earth to draw us from misventure,
Who drank of death for our salvacioun,
Him do we pray as to a Lord most righteous
And humble eke, that the young English King
He please to pardon, as true pardon is,
And bid go in with honourèd companions
There where there is no grief, nor shall be sadness.
ALBA INNOMINATA
From the Provençal.
IN a garden where the whitethorn spreads her leaves
My lady hath her love lain close beside her,
Till the warder cries the dawn—Ah dawn that grieves!
“Please God that night, dear night, should never cease,
Nor that my love should parted be from me,
Nor watch cry ‘Dawn’—Ah dawn that slayeth peace!
Ah God! Ah God! That dawn should come so soon!
“Fair friend and sweet, thy lips! Our lips again
Lo, in the meadow there the birds give song!
Ours be the love and Jealousy’s the pain!
Ah God! Ah God! That dawn should come so soon!
“Sweet friend and fair, take we our joy again
Down in the garden, where the birds are loud,
Till the warder’s reed astrain
Cry God! Ah God! That dawn should come so soon!
“Of that sweet wind that comes from Far-Away
Have I drunk deep of my Belovèd’s breath,
Yea! of my Love’s that is so dear and gay.
Ah God! Ah God! That dawn should come so soon!”
Envoi
Fair is this damsel and right courteous,
And many watch her beauty’s gracious ways.
Her heart toward love is no wise traitorous.
Ah God! Ah God! That dawn should come so soon!