softened he concludes with an exhortation in the same strain-and then descending from the pulpit, places himself at the door, and holding out his hat for the customary alms, his delighted congregation fill it to overflowing with pieces of silver. Peyer de Ruer forthwith casts off his pilgrim's gown, and in a new and splendid dress, and with a new song in his hand, he presents himself before the ladye of his love, who charmed by his gay attire not less than by his return, receives him most graciously, and bestows on him "maintes caresses." I must observe that the biographer of this Peyer de Ruer, himself a churchman, does not appear in the least scandalized or surprised at this very novel mode of reeruiting his finances and obtaining the favour of the lady; but gives us fairly to understand, that after such a proof of layauté, he should have thought it quite contrary to all rule if she had still rejected the addresses of this gentil Troubadour. Jauffred (or Geffrey) de Rudel is yet more famous, and his story will strikingly illustrate the manners of those times. Rudel was the favourite minstrel of Geffrey de Plantagenet Bretagne, the elder brother of our Richard Cœur de Lion, and like the royal Richard, a patron of music and poetry. During the residence of Rudel at the court of England, where he resided in great honour and splendour, caressed for his talents and loved for the gentleness of his manners, he heard continually the praises of a certain Countess of Tripoli; famed throughout Europe for her munificent hospitality to the poor Crusaders. The pilgrims and soldiers of the Cross, who were returning wayworn, sick, and disabled, from the burning plains of Asia, were relieved and entertained by this devout and benevolent Countess; and they repaid her generosity, with all the enthusiasm of gratitude, by spreading her fame throughout Christendom. These reports of her beauty and her beneficence, constantly repeated, fired the susceptible fancy of Rudel: without having seen her, he fell passionately in love with her, and unable to bear any longer the torments of absence, he untertook a pilgrimage to visit this unknown lady of his love, in company with Bertrand d'Allamanon, another celebrated Troubadour of those days. He quitted the English court in spite of the entreaties and expostulations of Prince Geffrey Platagenet, and sailed for the Levant. But so it chanced, that falling grievously sick on the voyage, he lived only till his vessel reached the shores of Tripoli. The Countess being told that a celebrated poet had just arrived in her harbour, who was dying for her love, immediately hastened on board, and taking his hand, entreated him to live for her sake. Rudel, already speechless, and almost in the agonies of death, revived for a moment at this unexpected grace; he was just able to express, by a last effort, the excess of his gratitude and love, and expired in her arms: thereupon the Countess wept bitterly, and vowed herself to a life of penance for the loss she had caused to the world.*. She commanded that the last song which Rudel had composed in her honour, should be transcribed in letters of gold, and carried it always in her bosom; and his remains were enclosed in a magnificent mausoleum of porphyry, with an Arabic. inscription, commemorating his genius and his love for her. It is in allusion to this well-known story, that Petrarch has introduced Rudel into Trionfo d'Amore. Gianfré Rudel ch' uso la vela e 'l remo, A cercar la suo morte. The song which the minstrel composed when he fell sick on this romantic expedition, and found his strength begin to fail, and which the Countess wore, folded within her vest, to the end of her life, is extant, and has been "Depuis ne fut jamais veue faire bonne chère," says the old chronicle.-I am tempted to add the description of the first and last interview of the Countess and her lover in the exquisite old French, of which the antique simplicity and naïveté are untranslatable. "En cet estat fut conduit au port de Trypolly, et là arrivé, son com. pagnon feist (fit) entendre à la Comtesse la venue de Pelerin malade. La Comtesse estant venue en la nef, prit le poête par la main; et lui, sachant que c'éstait la Comtesse, incontinent après le doult et graciex accueil, recouvra ses esprits, la remercia de ce qu'elle lui avait recouvré la vie, et lui dict: Très illustre et vertueuse princesse, je ne plaindrai point la mort oresque'-et ne pouvant achever son propos, sa maladie s'aigrissant et augmentant, rendit l'esprit entre les mains de la Comtesse."-Vies des plus célèbres Poëtes Provençaux, p. 24. translated into most of the languages of Europe; of these translations, Sismondi's is the best, preserving the original and curious arrangement of the rhymes, as well as the piety, naïveté, and tenderness of the sentiment. Irrité, dolent partirai Si ne vois cet amour de loin, Mrs. Piozzi and others have paraphrased this little song, but in a spirit so different from the antique simplicity of the original, that I shall venture to give a version, which has at least the merit of being as faithful as the different idioms of the languages will allow; I am afraid, however, that it will not appear worthy of the honour which the Countess conferred on it. "Grieved and troubled shall I die, If I meet not my love afar; Shall see her-for she dwells afar. Bertrand d'Allamanon, whom I have mentioned as the companion of Rudel on his romantic expedition, has left us a little ballad, remarkable for the extreme refinement of the sentiment, which is quite à la Petrarque: he gives it the fantastic title of a demi chanson, for a very fantastical reason: it is thus translated in Millot. (vol. i. p. 390.) Another love I'll never have, In places near, nor yet afar." "On veut savoir pourquoi je fais une demi chanson? c'est parceque je n'ai qu'un demi sujet de chanter. Il n'y a d'amour que de ma part; la dame que j'aime ne veut pas m'aimer! mais au défaut des oui qu'elle me refuse, je prendrai les non qu'elle me prodigue:-espérer auprès d'elle vaut mieux que jouir avec tout autre !" This is exactly the sentiment of Petrach: Pur mi consola, che morir per lei Meglio è che gioir d'altra― But it is one of those thoughts which spring in the heart, and might often be repeated without once being borrowed. 3* CHAPTER IV. THE LOVES OF THE TROUBADOURS. CONTINUED. In striking contrast to the tender and gentle Rudal, we have the ferocious Bertrand de Born: he, too, was one of the most celebrated Troubadours of his time. As a petty feudal sovereign, he was, partly by the events of the age, more by his own fierce and headlong passions, plunged in continual wars. Nature however had made him a poet of the first order. In these days he would have been another Lord Byron; but he lived in a terrible and convulsed state of society, and it was only in the intervals snatched from his usual pursuits, that is, from burning the castles, and ravaging the lands of his neighbours, and stirring up rebellion, discord, and bloodshed all around him, that he composed a vast number of lays, serventes, and chansons; some breathing the most martial, and even merciless spirit; others devoted to the praise and honour of his love, or rather loves, as full of submissive tenderness and chivalrous gallantry. He first celebrated Elinor Plantagenet, the sister of his friend and brother in arms and song, Richard Cœur de Lion; and we are expressly told that Richard was proud of the poetical homage rendered to the charms of his sister by this knightly Troubadour, and that the Princess was far from being insensible to his admiration. Only one of the many songs addressed to Elinor has been preserved; from which we gather, that it was composed by Bertrand in the field, at a time when his army was threatened with famine, and the poet himself was suffering from the pangs of hunger. Elinor married the Duke of Saxony, and Bertrand chose for his next love the beautiful Maenz de Mon |