Anc nos poc far major anta
E pois el so a enquest
E platz mi donz que m'esclava
| Ni que·m lais,
No m'es dans |
| Sils autrui enfans
Coljal meus bersols, |
Fatz cors, pois ela t'enchanta,
Que de tot joi se desvest
E de pretz se cura e·s lava,
| Remanha el mazans,
Qu'eu o volh, si·l vols, |
Lo senher de cui es Manta
Tornatz, ab que sai no rest,
S eus seria, s'el anava,
| Aleps e Arans,
Pois feira filhols |
Enaps e copa m'azanta
E sec ribeira e forest
E sai tolia e donava;
| Pressas e mazans,
Guerra e tribols |
Entre Dordonha e Charanta
Qu'encar re noi a conquest
E er l'anta, si·s pausava,
| E gortz e tirans
Cels qu'amar no sols |
Ves mon Oc-e-No t'avanta,
E Nortensems e Susest
E Londres e Titagava
| E Coras e Cans
E tot a quan vol; |
El
| Bel senher truans,
Cossi nous es dols |
E2
| Mariniers, enans
Es qu'anar destols |
|
Though there can be no greater shame:
that I've looked into all of this:
my lady's pleased if I'm her slave
| and if I let myself
it is no harm for me;
if there's another babe
my cradle is for him |
Since she enchants you, hold your course:
removing from yourself all joy
and care for fame, and shed as well,
| now and for evermore
the pomp and circumstance
so only noise remains,
for I want what she wants: |
The one who's lord of Mantes now
| and first with tercels too, |
turned back and didn't stay the course.
It would be good if he'd proceed
| to go on past Urfa
and so with Termagant
and Aram and Haleb
and make the Persian folk |
I don't like goblets or a cup,
dry rivers and the forests too
and there I took and there I gave.
| There's not a furtive look
for all our zealous strife:
melées and noisy clash,
war, tribulation, all |
Between Dordogne and Charente
since he has conquered nothing yet,
and now the shame if he rests up
| (for he is resting) so
he prospers happily;
such flourishers are not
so often lovers or |
Go forward to my Yea-and-Nay,
Northamptonshire and Sussex too,
and London and Titgrave-as well,
| Carhaix in Brittany,
Rouen in Normandy,
Cherbourg and Caen besides
and everything he wants, |
E1
| My fair sir vagabond,
now how do we find pain |
E2
| Then, forward, Mariner,
for walking isolates |
|