E murs fondre, e cazer autas tors.
Ricx homes, mal yssernitz,
En vey hom vostres malz ditz,
E laissera us, s’ie us vis arditz ni pros,
Mas no us tem tan que ja m’en lays per vos.
Translation.—I wish neither for the gifts and favours—nor to obtain the good-will—of the rich, with their false wisdom;—but I have in my heart the intention to reproach them—with their vile deeds ill-conceived;—and I don’t wish to be agreable—my Sirventes among the cowardly idlers,—poor in heart and heavy in riches.
The English King, I pray him to hear it,—for he causes to fall—his little glory by too much timidity,—for it does not please him to defend his own people,—and thus he is so cowardly and so vile,—that he seems to be asleep,—while the French King takes from him with impunity—Tours, and Angiers, and Normans, and Bretons.
The King of Aragon, without any doubt,—ought really to have the name—of James; for he is too willing to lie down;—and whoever it be that takes his land,—he is so cowardly and caitiff,—that he does not even contradict it;—and he revenges on that side against the felon Saracens——the shame and damage which he receives on this side towards Limoux.
Until he have revenged his father,—he cannot have much esteem,—nor let him imagine that I will speak to please him,—unless he ravage and put in flames,—and unless great blows be struck.—For there will have been accomplished great honour,—if he narrows the domains of the French King,—for Don Alfonse desires to inherit his fief.
Earl of Toulouse, the rent—which you used to hold—from Beaucaire, you ought to regret,—if you make long delay to demand it,—you, and that King, because you are in league;—that undertaking will not be disgraced,—if we now see tents and pavilions,—and walls fall and high towers break.