So may I lose my hawk, ere he can spring, If every word thou utterest does not bring Or may the board be shut, the dice untrue, From her I've long desired and loved-from you. Together with three more, some dungeon chill Let master, servants, porters, try their skill, So may I be becalmed 'mid oceans wide; As they, that slander me, have grossly lied. Bertrand de Born was reconciled to Maenz de Montagnac, by another celebrated woman of that time, Dame Natibors, or S'ieu anc falli ves vos, veys, del pensar. Escut al col cavalq' ieu al tempier, S' ieu per jaugar m' asseti al taulier Tiberge de Montauzier, herself a poetess, and one whose praises had frequently been sung by the Troubadours. Disgusted with the world, he, at last, retired into a monastery, where he died, after having assumed the habit of a Cistercian monk. But the history of the great men of this age does not terminate with their lives. The terrible fictions of Dante, before whom they are, as it were, placed in judgment, seem to possess a sort of reality; and Bertrand de Born, who, as a poet and warrior, had played so brilliant a part, and exercised such noxious influence over his contemporaries, was not likely to be passed over in neglect, by the bard of the Divina Comedia. The poet, in fact, meets him in hell. He beholds, with horror, a body advancing without a head, or rather holding its head by the hair, in its right hand. The severed head is raised by the hand, and thus addresses the poet : "Now, behold This grievous torment, thou, who breathing goest Be terrible as this. And that on earth Thou may'st bear tidings of me, know that I I set at mutual war. For Absalom Inferno, Canto xxviii. Senher sia ieu de Castel parsonier, Ma Don' aim lais per autre cavayer NOTE. M. de Sismondi has announced his intention of devoting his attention, hereafter, to the production of a similar work on the Literature of the North. He will, probably, there give an account of the poets who, in Germany, under the name of Minnesingers, were equally prolific with the Troubadours, during precisely the same æra. The emperors of the Suabian line were great patrons of the Muses. M. de Sismondi has cited a little piece, usually attributed to Frederic Barbarossa. Their connexion with Italy, Sicily, and Provence, unites the German literature of that age so intimately with that of the southern dialects, that it would have been very desirable if all could have been brought under one view, to illustrate their mutual affinities and influences. So popular was the German Muse, that there are even instances of Italian poets composing in that language, as well as in the Provençal. In comparing the poetic merits of the Troubadours and Minnesingers, it seems impossible to avoid differing from the opinion expressed by M. de Sismondi, and awarding the palm to the latter. They partake very little of the metaphysical speculations, and refinements of the Troubadours, while the harmony and grace of their versification are pre-eminent. The unbounded gaiety with which it revels in the charms of nature, and the spirit of tenderness and affection which it displays, give their poetry charms which very seldom adorn that of their rivals. The translator trusts that he may be excused for adding two specimens of the lighter pieces of these "singers," for which, as well as for a few of the translations of the Troubadours, inserted in this work, he is indebted to the papers of a friend, who, for the purpose of bringing all the contemporary songsters of this age into one view, is preparing a volume for publication. It is entitled, "Specimens selected and translated from the Lyric Poetry of the German Minnesingers or Troubadours of the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries, illustrated by similar Selections and Translations from the Poets of the Provençal and other Southern Dialects." The following Song is the production of Dietmar von Aste. There sate upon the linden tree A bird, and sang its strain; And thought again the thoughts of love There cherish'd long ago. A thousand years to me it seems, Is not my choice, but fate: Since then I have not seen the flowers, The following song of Earl Conrad of Kirchberg, is translated very closely, and in the same measure as the original : May, sweet May, again is come; O'er the laughing hedgerows' side Hill and dale are May's own treasures, Up, then, children, we will go We the bursting flowers will see; Therefore, dancing will we go: Youths rejoice, the flowrets blow; Sing ye! join the chorus gay! Our manly youths,-where are they now? To the sporters on the plain; Bid adieu to care and pain, Now, thou pale and wounded lover! Thou thy peace shalt soon recover : Many a laughing lip and eye Oh, if to my love restored, Youths, then, join the chorus gay! |