I cannot hide from thee how much I fear
The whispers breathed by flatterers in thine ear
Against my faith. But turn not, oh, I pray!
That heart so true, so faithful, so sincere.
So humble and so frank, to me so dear.
Oh, lady! turn it not from me away.
At times one is surprised to find pretty tributes to nature even in the midst of songs that are devoted to war. The two things that were nearest the hearts of these Troubadour poets were war and their lady-loves, but the beauties of nature became mixed up not only with their love songs but also with their battle hymns, or at least with their ardent descriptions of military preparations and the glories of war. An excellent example of this is to be found in the following stanza written by William of Saint Gregory, a Troubadour who is best known for his songs of war rather than of tenderness.
The beautiful spring delights me well.
When flowers and leaves are growing;
And it pleases my heart to hear the swell
Of the birds' sweet chorus flowing
In the echoing wood;
And I love to see all scattered around
Pavilions and tents on martial ground;
And my spirit finds it good
To see on the level plains beyond
Gay knights and steeds caparison'd.
Occasionally the Troubadours indulge in religious poetry though usually not of a mystical or profoundly devotional character. Even the famous Peyrols, who is so well known for his love songs, sometimes wandered into religious poetry that was not unworthy to be placed beside his lyric effusions on other topics. Peyrols is best known perhaps for his lamentations over King Richard the Lion Heart's fate, for he had been with that monarch on the crusade, and like most of the Troubadours who went with the army, drank in deep admiration for the poetic king. After his visit to the Holy Land on this occasion one stanza of his song in memory of that visit runs as follows: [Footnote 19: Translated by Roscoe.]
I have seen the Jordan river,
I have seen the holy grave.
Lord! to thee my thanks I render
For the joys thy goodness gave,
Showing to my raptured sight
The spot whereon thou saw'st the light.
Vessel good and favoring breezes,
Pilot, trusty, soon shall we
Once more see the towers of Marseilles
Rising o'er the briny sea.
Farewell, Acre, farewell, all.
Of Temple or of Hospital:
Now, alas! the world's decaying.
When shall we once more behold
Kings like lion-hearted Richard,
France's monarch, stout and bold?
TOWER OF SCALIGERS (VERONA)