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Nor is it yet the spirit of the season—
The summer time—that makes my song so gay; But softer thoughts, and yet a sweeter reason—
Love,—that o'er all my happy heart hath sway; That with delight my soul will ceaseless turn
Tow'rd her, I ween of all the world the best: And if my songs be sweet, well may they learn
Sweetness from her whose love my heart has blest.
And since that love is rightfully my boon,
Well may I hold her chief within my soul,
And her own grace diffuses o'er the whole.
Whence the bright light of love is ever breaking, Delight and hope that happy thought confers,
And I am blest beyond the power of speaking.
Fauchet mentions this ancient "Chanteresse et Trouverre." That singular and interesting poem, the "Bible Guyot de Provins," (published in Barbazan,) which well deserves a careful commentator, thus mentions her as having been present at the court of the Emperor Conrad at Mentz:—
De Troye la bele Doete
In the "Poesies de Marguerite-Eleonore Clotilde de Vallon-Chalys, depuis Madame de Surville, Poete Francois du XVe. siecle," is published the following piece, ascribed to Doete, and stated to have existed in MS. among the other specimens there given of a series of early French poetry. What degree of authenticity belongs to this book we do not know: undoubtedly, even if originals really existed, considerable liberties have been taken in their publication, as is plain from the extracts from Marie de France, which have since been correctly printed from the MSS. But the degree of coincidence with the undoubted originals that remains in those extracts, would incline the reader to believe that the basis of other pieces, which we have not the same means of comparing, is also genuine.
Quant revient la saison que l'herbe reverdoie
Qu'esjoissent oysels de lors gracieux chantz
Li bois, et la pré, e li chamz,
Por ce n'est il, tendres poulettes,
Por ce n' est il que plus felon.
When comes the beauteous summer time,
And grass grows green once more,
With fertilizing power ;—
Their pleasant songs again,
With their enlivening strain ;—
Unto the mead alone,
And pluck them for your own;
May leave untouch'd the heel,
Your hearts his power shall feel.
This lady (said to owe her name to a Comte de Verrue who adopted her) is the only other of M. de Surville's list whom we shall select. To her he attributes the beautiful romance of " Aucassin et Nicolette," and some other pieces;—on what authority is not told. The following song is at any rate pleasing and natural.
Voyd son hyver venir li sages
The wise man sees his winter close
Each age, he knows, its roses bears,
Thus would I dwell with pleasing thought
Yet, like the festive dancer, glad
The gazing crowds proclaim'd me fair, Ere, autumn-touch'd, my green leaves fell:
And now they smile, and call me good;—
On beauty, bliss depends not; then
He marches on:—how vain his power
Though now perhaps a little old,
Nor grieve I if the gay coquettes
And I can joy to see the nymphs
For fav'rite swains their chaplets twine,
In gardens trim, and bowers so green,
I love to see a pair defy
The noontide heat in yonder shade; To hear the village song of love
Sweet echoing through the woodland glade.
I joy too (though the idle crew
Mock somewhat at my lengthen'd tale,)
To see how lays of ancient loves