Here follows a frank avowal of his delight in war.
“All day long,” he says, “I fight, and am at work, to make a thrust at them and defend myself, for they are laying waste my land, and burning my crops; they pull up my trees by the roots, and mix my corn with the straw. Cowards and brave men are my enemies. I constantly disunite and sow hatred among the barons, and then remould and join them together again, and try to give them brave hearts and strong; but I am a fool for my trouble, for they are made of base metal.”
We cannot better take leave of the troubadours than by giving two additional specimens of the writing of Bertrand de Born.
The first is an ingenious poem. He has quarreled with his lady, and as a means of reconciliation he borrows from all the famous beauties of his time, their special charm, and gives them all to his love. The second song will explain itself.[271]
Domna, puois de mi no us cal,
E partit m’aretz de vos, &c.
Lady, since thou hast driven me forth,
Since thou, unkind, hast banished me,
(Though cause of such neglect be none,)
Where shall I turn from thee?