No. 1.
At the mandate, Go ye forth,
Through the whole world hurry!
Priests tramp out toward south and north,
Monks and hermits skurry,
Levites smooth the gospel leave,
Bent on ambulation;
Each and all to our sect cleave,
Which is life's salvation.
In this sect of ours 'tis writ:
Prove all things in season;
Weigh this life and judge of it
By your riper reason;
'Gainst all evil clerks be you
Steadfast in resistance,
Who refuse large tithe and due
Unto your subsistence.
Marquesses, Bavarians,
Austrians and Saxons,
Noblemen and chiefs of clans,
Glorious by your actions!
Listen, comrades all, I pray,
To these new decretals:
Misers they must meet decay,
Niggardly gold-beetles.
We the laws of charity
Found, nor let them crumble;
For into our order we
Take both high and humble;
Rich and poor men we receive,
In our bosom cherish;
Welcome those the shavelings leave
At their doors to perish.
We receive the tonsured monk,
Let him take his pittance;
And the parson with his punk,
If he craves admittance;
Masters with their bands of boys,
Priests with high dominion;
But the scholar who enjoys
Just one coat's our minion!
This our sect doth entertain
Just men and unjust ones;
Halt, lame, weak of limb or brain,
Strong men and robust ones;
Those who flourish in their pride,
Those whom age makes stupid;
Frigid folk and hot folk fried
In the fires of Cupid.
Tranquil souls and bellicose,
Peacemaker and foeman;
Czech and Hun, and mixed with those
German, Slav, and Roman;
Men of middling size and weight,
Dwarfs and giants mighty;
Men of modest heart and state,
Vain men, proud and flighty.
Of the Wanderers' order I
Tell the Legislature—
They whose life is free and high,
Gentle too their nature—
They who'd rather scrape a fat
Dish in gravy swimming,
Than in sooth to marvel at
Barns with barley brimming.
Now this order, as I ken,
Is called sect or section,
Since its sectaries are men
Divers in complexion;
Therefore hic and haec and hoc
Suit it in declension,
Since so multiform a flock
Here finds comprehension.
This our order hath decried
Matins with a warning;
For that certain phantoms glide
In the early morning,
Whereby pass into man's brain
Visions of vain folly;
Early risers are insane,
Racked by melancholy.
This our order doth proscribe
All the year round matins;
When they've left their beds, our tribe
In the tap sing latins;
There they call for wine for all,
Roasted fowl and chicken;
Hazard's threats no hearts appal,
Though his strokes still thicken.
This our order doth forbid
Double clothes with loathing:
He whose nakedness is hid
With one vest hath clothing:
Soon one throws his cloak aside
At the dice-box calling;
Next his girdle is untied,
While the cards are falling.
What I've said of upper clothes
To the nether reaches;
They who own a shirt, let those
Think no more of breeches;
If one boasts big boots to use,
Let him leave his gaiters;
They who this firm law refuse
Shall be counted traitors.
No one, none shall wander forth
Fasting from the table;
If thou'rt poor, from south and north
Beg as thou art able!
Hath it not been often seen
That one coin brings many,
When a gamester on the green
Stakes his lucky penny?
No one on the road should walk
'Gainst the wind—'tis madness;
Nor in poverty shall stalk
With a face of sadness;
Let him bear him bravely then,
Hope sustain his spirit;
After heavy trials men
Better luck inherit!
While throughout the world you rove,
Thus uphold your banners;
Give these reasons why you prove
Hearts of men and manners:
"To reprove the reprobate,
Probity approving,
Improbate from approbate
To remove, I'm moving."
The next song is a lament for the decay of the Order and the suppression of its privileges. It was written, to all appearances, at a later date, and is inferior in style. The Goliardi had already, we learn from it, exchanged poverty for luxury. Instead of tramping on the hard hoof, they moved with a retinue of mounted servants. We seem to trace in the lament a change from habits of simple vagabondage to professional dependence, as minstrels and secretaries, upon men of rank in Church and State, which came over the Goliardic class. This poem, it may be mentioned, does not occur in the Carmina Burana, nor is it included among those which bear the name of Walter Mapes or Map.