De chantar farai
Una esdemessa,

Que temps ven e vai,
E reman promessa,
E de gran esmai
Fai deus tost esdessa.
Segur estem, seignors,
E ferms de ric socors.

I'LL make a song shall utter 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, e'en as quickly as they come,

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

Then, noble sirs, we will not fear,
Strong in the hope of succours near.

And e'en if Frederic, on the throne
Of powerful Germany,

Submit 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 from our hands the sepulchre
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

Its citizens can feel.

Then shame to him who will not bear
In this our glorious cause his share!
And, noble sirs, we will not fear,
Strong in the hope of succours near.

THE TROUVÈRES.

Je vous supply, pardonnez moy,
Et ne mectez en oubliette

Celui qui la chanson a faicte

A l'umbre d'ung coppeau de Moy.

CHANSONS NORMANDS.