Sweet lady! let me tell Kind words to him who loves thee well. And why these cold and keen delays? Love should be welcomed while it stays, It is a flower that fadeth soon; Oh profit, lady! by its short-lived noon."

Then that enchanting fair in accents sweet replied, ■' Thy faithful nightingale

Has told his pleasant tale;
And he shall tell thee how, by absence tried,
Here, far from thee, my love, I rest;

For long thy stay hath been.

Such grief had I foreseen, Not with my love so soon hadst thou been blest.

Here then for thee I wait;

With thee is joy and mirth,

And nothing here on earth

With thee can e'er compete.

"True love, like gold, is well refined;
And mine doth purify my mind:
Go then, sweet bird, and quickly say,
And in thy most bewitching way,
How well I love.—Fly! haste thee on!
Why tarriest thou ?—What! not yet gone?"


Giraud De Borneil is said to have been of low extraction. The Provencal historian says—" fo meiller trobaire que negus d'aquels qu'eron estat denan ni foron apres lui, per que fo apellatz Maestre dels Trobadors:" and he adds, that he was used during the winter to rest "a scola," for the purpose of study; and during the summer to travel from court to court with two minstrels or "cantadors," who sang his songs. It is added, that he never would marry, but gave all he gained to his poor parents, and the church of the town where he was born. Nostradamus says he died in 1278.

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Companion dear! or sleeping or awaking,
Sleep not again! for lo! the morn is nigh,

And in the east that early star is breaking,
The day's forerunner, known unto mine eye;
The morn, the morn is near.

Companion dear! with carols sweet I'll call thee;

Sleep not again! I hear the birds' blithe song Loud in the woodlands; evil may befall thee, And jealous eyes awaken, tarrying long, Now that the morn is near.

Companion dear! forth from the window looking,
Attentive mark the signs of yonder heaven;

Judge if aright I read what they betoken:
Thine all the loss, if vain the warning given;
The morn, the morn is near.

Companion dear! since thou from hence wert straying,
Nor sleep nor rest these eyes have visited;

My prayers unceasing to the Virgin paying,

That thou in peace thy backward way might tread. The morn, the morn, is near.

Companion dear! hence to the fields with me!

Me thou forbad'st to slumber through the night, And I have watch'd that livelong night for thee;

But thou in song or me hast no delight,
And now the morn is near.


Companion dear! so happily sojourning,
So blest am I, I care not forth to speed:

Here brightest beauty reigns, her smiles adorning
Her dwelling-place,—then wherefore should I heed
The morn or jealous eyes?


Gaubert Amiels was a knight of Gascony; of what precise time is not known. He had the merit of making harmonious verses, of being humble in spirit and affectionate in heart. The following song is taken up at the second verse.

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I Covet not a high-born dame;

An equal in degree
Is all I seek; for wealth and fame

Heaven never meant for me.
I wish not for the joys that reign

Mid courtiers great and high;
For were I sure success to gain,

It would not bring me joy.

I ever loved the single bird

That sings beside my bower,
More than the noisy songsters heard

At distance, hovering o'er;
Nor would I seek the lady's grace

Who seeketh not for mine,
Like that poor swain who left his place

For regal dame to pine.

For lofty aims I do not care,

To courtiers leave them free: But there is One, whose chain I wear,

For she has vanquish'd me:
From Paris e'en to the Garonne

There is not one so fair,
Nor, noble though they be, not one

Who thus my love can share.

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