Troubadour Poems and Fabliaux

7/30/2019 Troubadour Poems and Fabliaux

1/6

troubadour poem of love :Jaufr6 Rudel, When D*ys *re {,,ong in May (c,rrz5*rr5o).in Occitan.raousaDouRs wERE PoETs and singers who generally worked for courtly patrons. They

the.mselves be of che petty nobiliry,likeJaufr Rudel {f. rra5-rr5o), who was the lord ofand a crusader. We have six of his poems, four of them with music. To appre ciate lheirit is go*d to kneiw how rhey were consrructed in Occilan {or Provengal). This one, forbegins;

Lanquan li jorn son ionc en rrlaym'es belhs dcus chans d'auzeihs de lonh,e quan mi suy parLiLz de layrenler:rbra'rn d'un' amor de lonh: .

iorft {far awry) is rhe key word here, and it becomes ever: rnore imporrart as it is repeatedand over. In fact, lonh ends the second and fourth line of every vets except the final one,the poet realizes that it is not just distance that keeps him from his love.

Lyrks of the Tra*badours rtnd Tloaydres, trans. Frederick Gcldin {Garden Ciry NY: Anchorr9T3), pp. ro-5-o7.]

days are longin May,*qioy the sr'|reet sang of the birds fir away,when I am parted from thei: song,parting reminds me of a lave far away:

go benr wilh desire, head bowed down;neither che song nor tbe hawthcrn's flowerrne more than the wintel's ice,

shall consider him my lord, in lrulh, the manlets n:.e see this love far away;for one good thing that falls Lo me,gql two evils, for this lave is far away.il I wish I were a piigrim rhere,rtaffand my cioak

d in her beauriful eyes.y joy wiil come forth, when I enfreat her

the love of God, thc love far away,if it pleases her, I shall lodgeto her, though ns'rnr I am far away.wirat {ine confen'ing will conre forth,hen ttre lover come fronr afar will be so closeshall know the cornforf of her sweet words.

Sad and rejoicing I shall part from her,when I have seen this lcve far away:bnt when I shall see her I do nct knovr,our lands ar-e very far aNray:there are meny vrays and roads,and I am no prophet ...but as it pleases God!I shall have no pleasure in ioveif it is not the pleasure ofthis love far away"for I do not krrorrr a gentler or a better oneanywbele, nor close by, not far away:hersrorth is trtre, and perfect, sothat there , in the kingdom of the Saracens,I wish I were a prisoner for her.God, who rnade everyrhing that coms and goesand formed this lsve far away,give me the power-for I have the heart-to see this love tbr awayface to face, in such pleasant dwellingsthat the chamber and rhe gardenwauld all the while be a palace lo rrry eyes.

z5

3o

35

4o

6. r9 leurn-f, nuncl, wr"tEN DAys aRE LoNc rN MAY (c.rre5-rr5o] 38s


2/6

He speaks the truth who saYs I craveand go desiring this love far awaY,4j for no other joy pleases me nrorethan the rich enjoyment of this love far away'But the parh i$ blocked to nry deure,

for my godfather gavs {ne this fate:I must love and not be loved'But rhe path is blocked [o mY desire,a great curse on rhis godfarherrnrho doomed me to be unloved.

6.eo A poem of war: Bertran de Born, I Lwe theloyful Time $zt"h c.). Original in Occitan.BsnrnaN nu Bop1{ (c.rr4o--bef rar5) was rHf LORD of Hautefortin the Prigordregion afFrance. Much like Hugh of Lusignan {see above, p. zr3), Berlran was alrnost constantly at war-in his case with his brother and with Henry II ofEngland iBerttan was on rhe side of Henry'sfirst son, "young Helry"). "We have forty songs written by him.fsource: Lyrits of the Troubadaurs and Traupires. trans- Frederick Goldin {Garden Ciry NY: AnchorBooks, rgzl), pp. 243,245,247.1

IO

I5

2A

I iove the joyful time cfEaster,that makes the leaves and flowers come forlh,and it pleases me lo hear the rnirthof the birds, who make thrir songresound through the woods,and it please$ me to $ee upott the meadowstents and pavilions planted,andlfeelagreatjcywhen I see ranged along the fieldknights and ho$es armed for war.furd it pieases me when the skirmishersnrake the people and cheir baggage rrr$ away,and it pieases me when I see behind rhem cominga great mass ofarmed men together,and I have pleasure in my heart,qrheu I see strong castles besieged,the brokea ramparts caving in,and I see the host on the water's edge,closed in all atound by ditches,wirh palisades, strong stakes close together.And I am as well pleased by a lordwhen he is first in the attack,armed, upon his horse, unafraid,so he makes his rnen take heartby his own brave lordliness.

And when the armies mix in battle,each man should be Poisedto followhim, smiling,for no man x worrh a thingtill he has given and goLte{ blow on blow'Maces and swords and Painted helnx,the useless shields cut lhrough,we shall see as rhe Gghting starts,and many vassals together striking,and wandering wildly,the unreined horses of the wounded and dead'And once entered into battlelet every man proud of his birdrthink only afbreaking arms and heads,for a man is worth rnore dead than alive and bearcrr'I tell you there is not so much savorin earing or drinking or sleePing,ar when I heat thern scream, "There they are! Let's

get lhem!"on bodr si.des, and I hear riderlesshorses in the shadows, neighing,and I hear them scream, "Help! Help!"and I see themfall arnong the ditches,lictle men and great men on the grass,and I see fixed in rhe flanks of lhe corpsesstumps af lances with silken $ttearners,25

390 srx: rNrrrrurroNALrzIrvG As?rRATroNs {c.rr5o-c"rr5o}


3/6

parfi/n your castles"your villages, and your citiesyou stop making war oh one another.Papiols, gladly gofasr tc my Lord Yes-and-No1and rell himhe has lived in peace toc 1cng. 5J

ot3.tro\inru: comtessa de T)iu, I'ie Bees in Great Anguish {c.rzoc?).in Occitan.

trobaiitz, i.e,, a fernale troubadour, the Comtessa de Dia was a Foet etffin'amar*courlly,iove. We know alrrrost nothing about her except that she has left to us seyeral scngs, onenrusic. Taking all of these poems top;ethrr (When D*ys we Long in Mny, p.3sg, J Lou* theJoy-Tirxe, p. 3go, and this cne by the Comtessa de Diai discuss rhe theraes that are mo$r i:rrportanttrouiradour paeffy.The Writinps oJ- Medieunl Wnren, trans. Marcelle Thi6beux {New York: Garlandr98?), p- rS8.l

beel ia great anguisha noble soldier I once had,I want erreryone to know, for all time,I loved hun--too much!I sse l"rr berrayedI didn'r yield my love ro him.

ebat I've sufferecl grearly,in my bed and ful1y clad.I'd yearn to have my soldierirr rny arms for one nighr!would feel a frenzy of deiighrhave cnly me for his pillow.

I'mmore inlove with himthan Elancheflor everwas with Floris.zTo him I'd give my heart, my love,mymind, my eyes, my life.B eautiful, gracicus, sweel friend,when shall I hold yon in my power?If I could lie with you for ane night,and give you a kiss of love,you carl be sure I would dssire greauiyeo granr you a husband's place,so long as you promisedro do everything I wished!

.Broyn!, tIrc Piest's cou: and rhe priest wko peeleed {r3th c.).in Old French.rN N0RTHERN Fnaxcn and performed by jonglean {who vrere also acrobats,and jugglers), fabliaux were popuiu entertainment for *11 clesses, though, roday onlyr5o are exlant in manuscriprs. Shart, humarous poems, fabliaux **r, ,o*rot to rnakelaugh; they highlighted human foibles and poked fun at peasanrs, women! and-especiai-The priest fu The Priest who Pe&ed is one of the f** cl*rgy*en who succeeds in hisiutentions in a fabliau; lhe poer {Guerin) wants ro show h$rlr the husband is fficked. But-Srann11 the Priest's Cou {whic.h is by the most famous fablior of *11, Jean Bodel, rr65?-rzrc},priest (a different priert) gers his conreuppance fsr his greed. Although rough and bawdy,

Ricl-rard I the Lir:n-Heart {d.rr99), rhe duke cf Aquiiaine.(in sourhetn France) as wbl1 rs king of Engl*nd.Blancheflor and Flcire (or Floris) were fi^mous lovers in a French Romance poern,6'za gnowNy, Tn,E pRrEsr's cow A"NI) THE.FRTEsT wHo pEEKen {r3'rn c,) j9r


4/6

feblianx were qui[e sophisticated paems, each writterr irr rhyming couplets, Fot gxaraple, Brol,;rlnybegins:

D'un vilain conte e[ de sa fame , tc'un-icr de fesre Ncstre l)ameAlaient r:urer i l'yglise,Li prestres, devant le servise,

Here Jane rhymes with Darte, I'yglxr wirh serurr; and-as with all fabliaux,*al1 of the linescantain exaclty eighr syll*bles, Flosr da these poerus pick up some themes of troubadour paetrywhile at the same time parcdying courtly ideals?[Source: Cucfrolds, Cferiu, &'Countrymen: Medieva{ Ftenilz. Fabliaux, trarx. Joh-n Du Va1, ed.RaymondEichmann {Feyertevilie: lJrriversity of Arkansas Press, r98z), pp. 3r-32, 45-46.]

Browny, the Priut's CawOnce, on blessed Mary's day,A peasant took his wife to prayAnd celebrate the nrass in lown.Before the office, the priesr carne downAnd turned to the peaple to deliverHis sermon: Blessed be rhe giver-Who gives for love of Gad in heaven.God will recurri what has been giverrDauble to hiru. wh.ose hearr is true ."My wife!" the peasant said, "Did youHear lvhat the parson up drere said?'Whoever gives for Gocl will getThe gi{t returned and multipliedlWhat better use cculd we decideFor aur cow, Berny than to give herTo God through the priest? Besides, she neverDid give much milk. She's not much good.""'Iffell," said the wife, "I guess wfi should,Siace rhat's a facc. Let's take lhat courAnd give her to the parsonnow'"They ro.se at once and left tagether.'!X/hen they got home, the farmer rethere dHis cow and led her &orn the shedAnd topk her back f


5/6

how the good Lortl multiPlies''rBerny back *ndBerny lwrce-v the second's brown, and bigger!,'r r*o for one the waY I figure'nsw our barn's not big enough'"

Mylords, this fabliau is Proofts faolish rot l0 give all Yoa own'

good things come frcm God alone'are nol buried in the ground-ventuted, norhing found,nothing rnultiPlied. That's howblessed the rn'*n r"qhc risked his cow:for lhe Pealanr, none for the Priest,those who have the most' get least'Frie.st Who Peeleed

He pounded at the doorrntay' crylng,"Fley thete, gocd peoplel You insidel.What "r* yoo doing?" The ruan teplied,"Faith, Sir, urete eating' Why not comeIn here tc join us and have scme?"-"Eating? What a iie! I'mlookingStraight thro.rgh this hole at you' You're fuckrng'"-t{$g5!1}' said the Feasant}

"Believe me,.We're ealing, Sir, as You can see'"-*{Tfyou al," s*id lhe priesr, "I'11 eat m;r hat'You're fucking, Sir- I can see thatlDcrr'[ try to ralk me oul af it'Why not let me go in and sit?You stand out here and do the spying'And let rne know rf I've been iYingAbour uhe light I'm looking at'"Tbe pbasanr leapt from rnlhere Le sat,Ijnlocked the door and hurr-ied out'The priest ceme in, turned about,Shur and latched and boired the door'Flowever hard the Peasant boreThe sight r:fit, the Parson sPedTo the peasanL's wife. He caught her head,Tripped her uP and laid her down'Up to her chest he Pulled her gownAnd did of all good deeds lhe oneThatwomen everYwhere want done'Hb bumped and bettered rryith such forceThe peasant's wife had no reccurseBut let him get rqrhar he was seeking'And there the otber rnao wa$r peekingAr the little hale, through which he spiedHis love1y wife's exPosed backsideAnd the priest, riding on top of her'"M"y God Ahnightl helP Yor, Sir,"The peasant called, "Is this a joke?"The parson turned his head and spoke:o'Ne, I'm not joking' Wh*t's dre m*tter?Dcn'c You see: I have Your Platter'I'rn eating suFper at Youl- lable'""Lord, this is like t dream ar fable'If I weren't hearing it frorn You,I never would believe it trueThar you aren't fucking wich nry wife'""I'm not, Sir! Hush! As God's mY 1ife,

3z

36

+0

you will kindlY listen:rellI my next tale, I'd like to tell

+4

48

52short and courtly fablianGuerrn has ig. Long agoiived a peasan[ who hed wed

maiden courtetrlls, well bred,ise, beautiful, of goodlY trirth'

cherished her fbr alt his worthfi.nd did his best tc keep her pleased'

lady loved the Parish Priest,\Fho was her onlY hearl"s desire'priesr himself was ss a{re'With love for her that he decidedilo tell iris love and not to hide it'of he starled, running hard'

As he came rnnning through lheir yard,The peasant and his wife were sittingTogether af *re tthle eating'bhe priest neifher called their narne nar knocke cl'He tried the door. The door was lockedAndbolted tight. H* looked aroundAnd up and down until he foundA hole to spy tl:rough and was ableTo see the peasanl at the table"Eating and drinking as she served.The priest indignanrly observedThe way the peasant led his life'Taking no pleasure r:f his wife.Andwhen he'd h*d enough of sPYing,

56

6o

64

68

5,2 1 BRoril'NY, TIiIE PRTEST' s cow .ilI.{D TI{E PRrEsr wII0 PEEr(tn {r3rx c') 193

76


6/6

8o

Thet's what I rhought I saw you dc'"The peasant said, "I guess *rar's true."That's how the peasarc gol confused,Bewitched, befuddled, and con sed,By the priest aad by his own weak brain

And didn't even feel rhe Pain'Beceuse of the door, j.t still is said,"Many a foslby God is fed."Here ends the fabliru of the priesr.The End: Amen.

39+ sIx: TN,TTTTUTI*NALIZTNG ASFIRAT1ONS {C.ir5o-C.rZ5o)

Documents

Troubadour Poems and Fabliaux