Glad songs in my mem'ry ring,
For the love that makes my blood
Dance and sing.
I am yours with heart and soul,
If it please you, lady, slay me....
Aimeril de Peguilhan is of opinion that the pain of love is no less sweet than the joy of love:
For he who loves with all his heart would fain
Be sick with love, such rapture is his pain.
And Bernart again:
God keep my lady fair from grief and woe,