XVII.
We pass now to love-poems of a more purely personal kind. One of these, which is too long for translation and in some respects ill-suited to a modern taste, forms the proper transition from the descriptive to the lyrical section. It starts with phrases culled from hymns to the Virgin:--
"Si linguis angelicis Loquar et humanis."
"Ave formosissima, Gemma pretiosa; Ave decus virginum, Virgo gloriosa!"
These waifs and strays of religious diction are curiously blent with romantic and classical allusions. The girl is addressed in the same breath as--
"Blanziflor et Helena, Venus generosa."
Toward the close of the poem, the lover, who at length has reached the object of his heart's desire, breaks into this paean of victorious passion:--
"What more? Around the maiden's neck My arms I flung with yearning; Upon her lips I gave and took A thousand kisses burning: Again and yet again I cried, With whispered vows and sighing, This, this alone, sure, sure it was For which my heart was dying!
"Who is the man that does not know The sweets that followed after? My former pains, my sobs and woe, Were changed for love and laughter: The joys of Paradise were ours In overflowing measure; We tasted every shape of bliss And every form of pleasure."
The next piece which I shall quote differs in some important respects from the general style adopted by the Goliardi in their love-poetry. It is written in rhyming or leonine hexameters, and is remarkable for its quaint play on names, conceived and executed in a truly medieval taste.
FLOS FLORAE.
No. 30.
Take thou this rose, O Rose! the loves in the rose repose: I with love of the rose am caught at the winter's close: Take thou this flower, my flower, and cherish it in thy bower: Thou in thy beauty's power shalt lovelier blow each hour: Gaze at the rose, and smile, my rose, in mine eyes the while: To thee the roses belong, thy voice is the nightingale's song: Give thou the rose a kiss, it blushes like thy mouth's bliss: Flowers in a picture seem not flowers, but flowers in a dream: Who paints the rose's bloom, paints not the rose's perfume.
In complete contrast to this conceited and euphuistic style of composition stands a slight snatch of rustic melody, consisting of little but reiteration and refrain.
A BIRD'S SONG OF LOVE.
No. 31.
Come to me, come, O come! Let me not die, but come! Hyria hysria nazaza Trillirivos.
Fair is thy face, O fair! Fair thine eyes, O how fair! Hyria hysria nazaza Trillirivos.
Fair is thy flowing hair! O fair, O fair, how fair! Hyria hysria nazaza Trillirivos.
Redder than rose art thou, Whiter than lily thou! Hyria hysria nazaza Trillirivos.
Fairer than all, I vow, Ever my pride art thou! Hyria hysria nazaza Trillirivos.
The following displays an almost classical intensity of voluptuous passion, and belongs in all probability to a period later than the _Carmina Burana_. I have ventured, in translating it, to borrow the structure of a song which occurs in Fletcher's _Rollo_ (act v. scene 2), the first stanza of which is also found in Shakespeare's _Measure for Measure_ (act iv. scene 1), and to insert one or two phrases from Fletcher's version. Whether the composer of that song had ever met with the Latin lyric to Lydia can scarcely form the subject of critical conjecture. Yet there is a faint evanescent resemblance between the two poems.
TO LYDIA.
No. 32.
Lydia bright, thou girl more white Than the milk of morning new, Or young lilies in the light! Matched with thy rose-whiteness, hue Of red rose or white rose pales, And the polished ivory fails, Ivory fails.
Spread, O spread, my girl, thy hair, Amber-hued and heavenly bright, As fine gold or golden air! Show, O show thy throat so white, Throat and neck that marble fine Over thy white breasts incline, Breasts incline.
Lift, O lift thine eyes that are Underneath those eyelids dark, Lustrous as the evening star 'Neath the dark heaven's purple arc! Bare, O bare thy cheeks of rose, Dyed with Tyrian red that glows, Red that glows.
Give, O give those lips of love That the coral boughs eclipse; Give sweet kisses, dove by dove, Soft descending on my lips. See my soul how forth she flies! 'Neath each kiss my pierced heart dies, Pierced heart dies.
Wherefore dost thou draw my life, Drain my heart's blood with thy kiss? Scarce can I endure the strife Of this ecstasy of bliss! Set, O set my poor heart free, Bound in icy chains by thee, Chains by thee.
Hide, O hide those hills of snow, Twinned upon thy breast that rise, Where the virgin fountains flow With fresh milk of Paradise! Thy bare bosom breathes of myrrh, From thy whole self pleasures stir, Pleasures stir.
Hide, O hide those paps that tire Sense and spirit with excess Of snow-whiteness and desire Of thy breast's deliciousness! See'st thou, cruel, how I swoon? Leav'st thou me half lost so soon? Lost so soon?
In rendering this lyric to Lydia, I have restored the fifth stanza, only one line of which,
"Quid mihi sugis vivum sanguinem,"
remains in the original. This I did because it seemed necessary to effect the transition from the stanzas beginning _Pande, puella, pande_, to those beginning _Conde papillas, conde_.
Among these more direct outpourings of personal passion, place may be found for a delicate little _Poem of Privacy_, which forms part of the _Carmina Burana_. Unfortunately, the text of this slight piece is very defective in the MS., and has had to be conjecturally restored in several places.
A POEM OF PRIVACY.
No. 33.
When a young man, passion-laden, In a chamber meets a maiden, Then felicitous communion, By love's strain between the twain, Grows from forth their union; For the game, it hath no name, Of lips, arms, and hidden charms.
Nor can I here forbear from inserting another _Poem of Privacy_, bolder in its openness of speech, more glowing in its warmth of colouring. If excuse should be pleaded or the translation and reproduction of this distinctly Pagan ditty, it must be found in the singularity of its motive, which is as unmedieval as could be desired by the bitterest detractor of medieval sentiment. We seem, while reading it, to have before our eyes the Venetian picture of a Venus, while the almost prosaic particularity of description illustrates what I have said above about the detailed realism of the Goliardic style.
FLORA.
No. 34.
Rudely blows the winter blast, Withered leaves are falling fast, Cold hath hushed the birds at last. While the heavens were warm and glowing, Nature's offspring loved in May; But man's heart no debt is owing To such change of month or day As the dumb brute-beasts obey. Oh, the joys of this possessing! How unspeakable the blessing That my Flora yields to-day!
Labour long I did not rue, Ere I won my wages due, And the prize I played for drew. Flora with her brows of laughter, Gazing on me, breathing bliss, Draws my yearning spirit after, Sucks my soul forth in a kiss: Where's the pastime matched with this? Oh, the joys of this possessing! How unspeakable the blessing Of my Flora's loveliness!
Truly mine is no harsh doom, While in this secluded room Venus lights for me the gloom! Flora faultless as a blossom Bares her smooth limbs for mine eyes; Softly shines her virgin bosom, And the breasts that gently rise Like the hills of Paradise. Oh, the joys of this possessing! How unspeakable the blessing When my Flora is the prize!
From her tender breasts decline, In a gradual curving line, Flanks like swansdown white and fine. On her skin the touch discerneth Naught of rough; 'tis soft as snow: 'Neath the waist her belly turneth Unto fulness, where below In Love's garden lilies blow. Oh, the joys of this possessing! How unspeakable the blessing! Sweetest sweets from Flora flow!
Ah! should Jove but find my fair, He would fall in love, I swear, And to his old tricks repair: In a cloud of gold descending As on Danae's brazen tower, Or the sturdy bull's back bending, Or would veil his godhood's power In a swan's form for one hour. Oh, the joys of this possessing! How unspeakable the blessing! How divine my Flora's flower!
A third "poem of privacy" may be employed to temper this too fervid mood. I conceive it to be meant for the monologue of a lover in the presence of his sweetheart, and to express the varying lights and shades of his emotion.
THE LOVER'S MONOLOGUE.
No. 35.
Love rules everything that is: Love doth change hearts in a kiss: Love seeks devious ways of bliss: Love than honey sweeter, Love than gall more bitter. Blind Love hath no modesties. Love is lukewarm, fiery, cold; Love is timid, overbold; Loyal, treacherous, manifold.
Present time is fit for play: Let Love find his mate to-day: Hark, the birds, how sweet their lay! Love rules young men wholly; Love lures maidens solely. Woe to old folk! sad are they. Sweetest woman ever seen, Fairest, dearest, is my queen; And alas! my chiefest teen.
Let an old man, chill and drear, Never come thy bosom near; Oft he sleeps with sorry cheer, Too cold to delight thee: Naught could less invite thee. Youth with youth must mate, my dear. Blest the union I desire; Naught I know and naught require, Better than to be thy squire.
Love flies all the world around: Love in wanton wiles is wound: Therefore youth and maid are bound In Love's fetters duly. She is joyless truly Who no lover yet hath found! All the night in grief and smart She must languish, wear her heart; Bitter is that woman's part.
Love is simple, Love is sly; Love is pale, of ruddy dye: Love is all things, low and high: Love is serviceable, Constant and unstable: Love obeys Art's empery. In this closed room Love takes flight, In the silence of the night, Love made captive, conquered quite.
The next is singularly, quaintly musical in the original, but for various reasons I have not been able to adhere exactly to its form. I imagine that it is the work of the same poet who composed the longer piece which I shall give immediately after. Both are addressed to Caecilia; I have used the name Phyllis in my version.
THE INVITATION TO LOVE.
No. 36.
List, my girl, with words I woo; Lay not wanton hands on you: Sit before you, in your face Gazing, ah! and seeking grace: Fix mine eyes, nor let them rove From the mark where shafts of love Their flight wing. Try, my girl, O try what bliss Young men render when they kiss! Youth is alway sturdy, straight; Old age totters in its gait. These delights of love we bring Have the suppleness of spring, Softness, sweetness, wantoning; Clasp, my Phyllis, in their ring Sweeter sweets than poets sing, Anything and everything!
After daytime's heat from heaven Dews on thirsty fields are given; After verdant leaf and stem Shoots the white flower's diadem; After the white flower's bloom To the night their faint perfume Lilies fling. Try, my girl, etc., _da capo_.
The poem, _Ludo cum Caecilia_, which comes next in order, is one of the most perfect specimens of Goliardic writing. To render its fluent, languid, and yet airy grace, in any language but the Latin, is, I think, impossible. Who could have imagined that the subtlety, the refinement, almost the perversity of feeling expressed in it, should have been proper to a student of the twelfth century? The poem is spoiled toward its close by astrological and grammatical conceits; and the text is corrupt. That part I have omitted, together with some stanzas which offend a modern taste.
PHYLLIS.
No. 37.
Think no evil, have no fear, If I play with Phyllis; I am but the guardian dear Of her girlhood's lilies, Lest too soon her bloom should swoon Like spring's daffodillies.
All I care for is to play, Gaze upon my treasure, Now and then to touch her hand, Kiss in modest measure; But the fifth act of love's game, Dream not of that pleasure!
For to touch the bloom of youth Spoils its frail complexion; Let the young grape gently grow Till it reach perfection; Hope within my heart doth glow Of the girl's affection.
Sweet above all sweets that are 'Tis to play with Phyllis; For her thoughts are white as snow, In her heart no ill is; And the kisses that she gives Sweeter are than lilies.
Love leads after him the gods Bound in pliant traces; Harsh and stubborn hearts he bends, Breaks with blows of maces; Nay, the unicorn is tamed By a girl's embraces.
Love leads after him the gods, Jupiter with Juno; To his waxen measure treads Masterful Neptune O! Pluto stern to souls below Melts to this one tune O!
Whatsoe'er the rest may do, Let us then be playing: Take the pastime that is due While we're yet a-Maying; I am young and young are you; 'Tis the time for playing.
Up to this time, the happiness of love returned and satisfied has been portrayed. The following lyric exhibits a lover pining at a distance, soothing his soul with song, and indulging in visions of happiness beyond his grasp--[Greek: eidolois kalleus kopha chliainomenos], as Meleager phrased it on a similar occasion.
LOVE LONGINGS.
No. 38.
With song I seek my fate to cheer, As doth the swan when death draws near; Youth's roses from my cheeks retire, My heart is worn with fond desire. Since care and woe increase and grow, while light burns low, Poor wretch I die! Heigho! I die, poor wretch I die! Constrained to love, unloved; such luck have I!
If she could love me whom I love, I would not then exchange with Jove: Ah! might I clasp her once, and drain Her lips as thirsty flowers drink rain! With death to meet, his welcome greet, from life retreat, I were full fain! Heigho! full fain, I were full fain, Could I such joy, such wealth of pleasure gain!
When I bethought me of her breast, Those hills of snow my fancy pressed; Longing to touch them with my hand, Love's laws I then did understand. Rose of the south, blooms on her mouth; I felt love's drouth That mouth to kiss! Heigho! to kiss, that mouth to kiss! Lost in day-dreams and vain desires of bliss.
The next is the indignant repudiation by a lover of the calumny that he has proved unfaithful to his mistress. The strongly marked double rhymes of the original add peculiar vehemence to his protestations; while the abundance of cheap mythological allusions is emphatically Goliardic.
THE LOVER'S VOW.
No. 39.
False the tongue and foul with slander, Poisonous treacherous tongue of pander, Tongue the hangman's knife should sever, Tongue in flames to burn for ever;
Which hath called me a deceiver, Faithless lover, quick to leave her, Whom I love, and leave her slighted, For another, unrequited!
Hear, ye Muses nine! nay, rather, Jove, of gods and men the father! Who for Danae and Europa Changed thy shape, thou bold eloper!
Hear me, god! ye gods all, hear me! Such a sin came never near me. Hear, thou god! and gods all, hear ye! Thus I sinned not, as I fear ye.
I by Mars vow, by Apollo, Both of whom Love's learning follow; Yea, by Cupid too, the terror Of whose bow forbids all error!
By thy bow I vow and quiver, By the shafts thou dost deliver, Without fraud, in honour duly To observe my troth-plight truly.
I will keep the troth I plighted, And the reason shall be cited: 'Tis that 'mid the girls no maiden Ever met I more love-laden.
'Mid the girls thou art beholden Like a pearl in setting golden; Yea, thy shoulder, neck, and bosom Bear of beauty's self the blossom.
Oh, her throat, lips, forehead, nourish Love, with food that makes him flourish! And her curls, I did adore them-- They were blonde with heaven's light o'er them.
Therefore, till, for Nature's scorning, Toil is rest and midnight morning, Till no trees in woods are growing, Till fire turns to water flowing;
Till seas have no ships to sail them, Till the Parthians' arrows fail them, I, my girl, will love thee ever, Unbetrayed, betray thee never!
In the following poem a lover bids adieu for ever to an unworthy woman, who has betrayed him. This is a remarkable specimen of the songs written for a complicated melody. The first eight lines seem set to one tune; in the next four that tune is slightly accelerated, and a double rhyme is substituted for a single one in the tenth and twelfth verses. The five concluding lines go to a different kind of melody, and express in each stanza a changed mood of feeling.
I have tried in this instance to adopt the plaster-cast method of translation, as described above,[32] and have even endeavoured to obtain the dragging effect of the first eight lines of each strophe, which are composed neither of exact accentual dactyls nor yet of exact accentual anapaests, but offer a good example of that laxity of rhythm permitted in this prosody for music.
Comparison with the original will show that I was not copying Byron's _When we Two Parted_; yet the resemblance between that song and the tone which my translation has naturally assumed from the Latin, is certainly noticeable. That Byron could have seen the piece before he wrote his own lines in question is almost impossible, for this portion of the _Carmina Burana_ had not, so far as I am aware, been edited before the year 1847. The coincidence of metrical form, so far as it extends, only establishes the spontaneity of emotion which, in the case of the medieval and the modern poet, found a similar rhythm for the utterance of similar feeling.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 32: Page 38.]
FAREWELL TO THE FAITHLESS.
No. 40.
A mortal anguish How often woundeth me; Grieving I languish, Weighed down with misery;
Hearing the mournful Tale of thy fault and fall Blown by Fame's scornful Trump to the ears of all!
Envious rumour Late or soon will slay thee: Love with less humour, Lest thy love betray thee.
Whate'er thou dost, do secretly, Far from Fame's curiosity; Love in the dark delights to be, His sports are wiles and witchery, With laugh of lovers greeting.
Thou wert not slighted, Stained in thine honour, when We were united, Lovers unknown to men; But when thy passion Grew like thy bosom cold, None had compassion, Then was thy story told.
Fame, who rejoiceth New amours to utter, Now thy shame voiceth, Wide her pinions flutter.
The palace home of modesty Is made a haunt for harlotry; The virgin lily you may see Defiled by fingers lewd and free, With vile embraces meeting.
I mourn the tender Flower of the youth of thee, Brighter in splendour Than evening's star can be. Pure were thy kisses, Dove-like thy smile; As the snake hisses Now is thy guile.
Lovers who pray thee From thy door are scattered; Lovers who pay thee In thy bed are flattered.
Thou bidst them from thy presence flee From whom thou canst not take thy fee; Blind, halt, and lame thy suitors be; Illustrious men with subtlety And poisonous honey cheating.
I may add that a long soliloquy printed in _Carmina Burana_, pp. 119-121, should be compared with the foregoing lyric. It has a similar motive, though the lover in this case expresses his willingness for reconciliation. One part of its expostulation with the faithless woman is beautiful in its simplicity:--
"Amaveram prae caeteris Te, sed amici veteris Es jam oblita! Superis Vel inferis Ream te criminamur."
I will close this section with the lament written for a medieval Gretchen whose fault has been discovered, and whose lover has been forced to leave the country. Its bare realism contrasts with the lyrical exuberance of the preceding specimens.
GRETCHEN.
No. 41.
Up to this time, well-away! I concealed the truth from day, Went on loving skilfully. Now my fault at length is clear: That the hour of need is near, From my shape all eyes can see. So my mother gives me blows, So my father curses throws; They both treat me savagely. In the house alone I sit, Dare not walk about the street, Nor at play in public be.
If I walk about the street, Every one I chance to meet Scans me like a prodigy: When they see the load I bear, All the neighbours nudge and stare, Gaping while I hasten by; With their elbows nudge, and so With their finger point, as though I were some monstrosity; Me with nods and winks they spurn, Judge me fit in flames to burn For one lapse from honesty.
Why this tedious tale prolong? Short, I am become a song, In all mouths a mockery. By this am I done to death, Sorrow kills me, chokes my breath, Ever weep I bitterly. One thing makes me still more grieve, That my friend his home must leave For the same cause instantly; Therefore is my sadness so Multiplied, weighed down with woe, For he too will part from me.