It went to one remember'd spot,

It saw the rose-trees grow,
And thought again the thoughts of love

There cherish'd long ago.
A thousand


to me it seems,
Since by my fair 1 sate ;
Yet thus to be a stranger long,

Is not my choice, but fate:
Since then I have not seen the flowers,

Nor heard the bird's sweet song :
My joys have all too briefly past,

My griefs been all too long.

The following are by Arnaud de Marveil:--

All I behold recalls the memory

Of her I love. The freshness of the hour,

Th’ enamelld fields, the many coloured flower,
Speaking of her, move to me melody.
Had not the poets, with that courtly phrase,

Saluted many a fair of meaner worth,
I could not now have render'd thee the praise

So justly due, of “Fairest of the Earth.”
To name thee thus had been to speak thy name,
And waken, o'er thy cheek, the blush of modest shame.

Oh! how sweet the breath of April,

Breathing soft as May draws near!
While through nights of tranquil beauty,

Songs of gladness meet the ear:
Every bird his well-known language

Uttering in the morning's pride,
Revelling in joy and gladness

By his happy partner's side.
When around me all is smiling,

When to life the young birds spring,
Thoughts of love, I cannot hinder,

Come, my heart inspiriting---
Nature, babit, both incline me

In such joy to bear my part:
With such sounds of bliss around me,

Who could wear a sadden'd heart?
Fairer than the far-famed Helen,

Lovelier than the flow'rets gay,
Snow-white teeth, and lips truth-telling,
Heart as open as the day;




Golden hair, and fresh bright roses,--

Heaven, who form'd a thing so fair,
Knows that never yet another

Lived, who can with her compare.
The following beautiful Elegy is by Ausias March :---

The hands, which never spare, have snatch'd thee hence,

Cutting the frail thread of thy tender life,

And bearing thee from out this scene of strife,
Obedient still to Fate's dark ordinance.
All that I see and feel now turns to pain,

When I remember thee I loved so well;

Yet, from the griefs that in my bosom swell,
I seem to snatch some taste of bliss again ;
Thus, fed by tender joy, my grief shall last :
Unfed, the deepest sorrow soon is past.
Within a gentle heart love never dies ;

He fades in breasts which guilty thoughts distress,

And fails the sooner for his own excess ;
But lives, when rich in virtuous qualities.
When the eye sees not and the touch is gone,

And all the pleasures Beauty yields are o'er,

Howe'er the conscious sufferer may deplore,
We know that soon such sensual griefs are flown.
Virtuous and holy love links mind to mind;
And such is ours, which death cannot unbind.

The war against the Albigenses fices in their gifts to their servants was the principal cause of the de- and bailiffs, and it was with them struction of Provençal poetry, and a proverbial expression, "I had ruin of the Troubadours; a war rather have been a priest than undertaken against religion, and have done so disgraceful a thing." carried on with the most unrelent- Innocent III. proclaimed a ing malignity and annihilating de- crusade against those who venvastation. The clergy had fallen tured to separate from the Romish by their vices into utter contempt: Church : he addressed a letter to the Troubadours satirized them. the King of France, and to all “If," said Raymond de Castelnau, princes and most powerful barons, “God has willed the Black Monks as well as to the metropolitans to be unrivalled in their good eat and the bishops, exhorting them ing and in their amours, and the to avenge the blood which had White Monks in their lying bulls, been shed, (Pierre de Castelnau, and the Templars and Hospital- the legate of the Pope,) and to lers in pride, and the Canons in extirpate the heresy. All the usury; I hold St. Peter and St. indulgences and pardons usually Andrew to have been egregious granted to the crusaders were fools, for suffering so many tor- promised to those who exterments for the sake of God; since all minated these unbelievers, a thouthese people also are to be saved.” sand times more detestable than The gentry granted the bene- the Turks and Saracens. More than 300,000 men appeared in plicity of his language, the horror arms, to accomplish this butchery; of this picture. and the first nobles of France, “ They entered the city of the most virtuous, and perhaps Beziers, where they murdered the mildest of her aristocracy, more people than was ever known believed that they were rendering in the world : for they spared an acceptable service to God, in neither young nor old, nor infants thus arming themselves against at the breast. They killed and their brethren. Raymond VI. murdered all of them; which Count of Toulouse, one of whose being seen by the said people of gentlemen had killed the priest the city, they that were able did before mentioned, and who was retreat into the great church of accused of favouring the heretics, St. Nazarius, both men and woterrified at this storm, submitted men. The chaplains thereof, when to every thing that was required they retreated, caused the bells to of him. He delivered up his for- ring until every body was dead. tresses, and even marched to the But neither the sound of the bells, crusade against the most faithful nor the chaplains in their priestly of his own subjects; and yet, habits, nor the clerks, could hinder notwithstanding this disgraceful all from being put to the sword; weakness, he did not escape the one only escaped, for all the rest hatred or the vengeance of the were slain, and died. Nothing clergy. But Raymond Roger, Vis- so pitiable was ever heard of or count of Beziers, his youthful and done; and when the city had been generous nephew, without sharing pillaged, it was set on fire, so that himself in the heretical opinions, it was all pillaged and burned, would not consent to the atrocities even as it appears at this day. which were about to be committed No living thing was left; which in his states. He encouraged his was a cruel vengeance, seeing that subjects to defend themselves; and the said Viscount was neither a shutting himself up in Carcassone, heretic nor of their sect." and delivering Beziers to the care The same tremendous war deof his lieutenants, awaited with vastated the whole of the South of firmness the attack of the cru- France. They who escaped from saders. Beziers was taken by as- the sacking of the towns, were sault, on the 22d July, 1209, and sacrificed by the faggot. From with this city fell Provençal poetry. 1209 to 1229 nothing was seen 15,000 inhabitants, according to but massacres and tortures. The the narrative which the abbot of Muses fled from a soil polluted the Cistercians transmitted to the with carnage. Pope, or 60,000, according to Among the persecutors a few other contemporary writers, were


Troubadours were found, the most put to the sword. The city it- celebrated of whom was the aboself, after a general massacre, not minable Folquet, bishop of Touonly of its inhabitants but like- louse, who betrayed alike his prince wise of the neighbouring pea- and his flock; and Izarn, a Dosantry, who had thrown them- minican missionary and inquisitor, selves into it, was reduced to who among others has left us the ashes. An old Provençal his- following beautiful relic ! torian has augmented, by the sim

As you declare you won't believe, 'tis fit that you should burn,
And as your fellows have been burnt, that you should blaze in turn;
And as you've disobey'd the will of God and of St. Paul,
Which ne'er was found within your heart, nor pass'd your teeth at all,
The fire is lit, the pitch is hot, and ready is the stake,
That through these tortures, for your sins, a passage you may take.

The greater part of the Troubadours beheld, however, with equal detestation, both the crusade and the domination of the French. The following martial ballad was written at this time, calling the persecuted Provençals to resist the plundering invasion which St. Louis was directing against them, under the pretence of a zeal for religion and social order. It is now very curious, as shewing the light in which some of his contemporaries viewed the hypocrisy and cruelty of this St. Louis, whose God is, in the year 1823, invoked in support of similar projects.

I'll make a song shall body forth

My full and free complaint,
To see the heavy hours pass on,

And witness to the feint
Of coward souls, whose vows were made
In falsehood, and are yet unpaid ;

Yet, noble Sirs, we will not fear,

Strong in the hope of succours near.
Yes! full and ample help for us

Shall come, so trusts my heart ;
God fights for us, and these our foes,

The French, must soon depart;
For on the souls that fear not God
Soon, soon shall fall the vengeful rod :

Then, noble Sirs, we will not fear,

Strong in the hope of succours near.
And hither they believe to come,

(The treacherous, base crusaders !)
But, ev'ı, as quickly as they come,

We'll chase those fierce invaders;
Without a shelter they shall Ay
Before our valiant chivalry:

Then, noble Sirs, we will not fear,

Strong in the hope of succours near.
And ev'n if Frederic, on the throne

Of powerful Germany,
Submits the cruel ravages

Of Louis' hosts to see;
Yet, in the breast of England's king,
Wrath, deep and vengeful, shall upspring ;

Then, noble Sirs, we will not fear,

Strong in the hope of succours near.
Not much those meek and holy men,
The traitorous Bishops, mourn,

Though Though from our hands the sepulcbre

Of our dear Lord be torn;
More tender far their anxious care
For the rich plunder of Belcaire :

But, noble Sirs, we will not fear,

Strong in the hope of succours near.
And look at our proud Cardinal,

Whose hours in peace are past;
Look at his splendid dwelling-place,

(Pray Heaven it may not last!)
He heeds not, while he lives in state,
What ills on Damietta wait:

But, noble Sirs, we will not fear,

Strong in the hope of succours near.
I cannot think that Avignon

Will lose its holy zeal
In this our cause, so ardently

It's citizens can feel.
Then shame to him who will not bear
In this so glorious cause his share!

And, noble Sirs, we will not fear,

Strong in the hope of succours near. We make the following as our last extract. It is the Lay de departie of Raoul de Coucy, who was killed in 1229, at the Battle of Massoura.

How cruel is it to depart,

Lady! who causest all my grief.

My body to it’s Lord's relief
Must go,
but thou retain'st


To Syria now I wend my way,

Where Paynim swords no terror move:
Yet sad shall be each lingering day,

Far from the side of her I love.
We learn from many a grave divine,

That God hath written in his laws,

That, to avenge his holy cause,
All earthly things we must resign.
Lord! I surrender all to thee!

No goods have I, nor castle fair;
But, were my Lady kind to me,

I should not know regret nor care.
At least, in this strange foreign land,

My thoughts may dwell by night and d y

(Fearless of what detractors say)
On her whose smile is ever bland.
And now I make my will,-and here

I give, and fully do devise,
My heart to her I hold so dear,
My soul to God in Paradise.


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