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37–41. Cinq balades ensuivans
37. Balade: «Car chascun a joye de li loer»
Il n’est confort qui tant de bien me face
Quant je ne puis a ma dame parler
Comme d’avoir temps, loizir, et espace
De longuement en sa valour penser
Et ses doulz fais femenins recorder
Dedens mon cuer. C’est ma vie, par m’ame!
Ne je ne truis nul homme qui me blasme,
Car chascun a joye de li loer.
Il a en lui beauté, bonté, et grace
Plus que nulz homs ne saroit deviser.
C’est grant eur quant en si po d’espace
Dieu a voulu tous les biens assambler.
Honneur la veult sur toutes honnorer.
Onques ne vy si plaisant jeune dame
De toutes gens avoir si noble fame,
Car chascun a joye de li loer.
Ou qu’elle soit, bien fait et mal efface.
Moult bien li siet le rire et le jouer.
Son cuer esbat et les autres solace
Si liement qu’on ne le doit blasmer.
De li veoir ne se puet nulz lasser.
Son regart vault tous les biens d’un royaume.
Il samble bien qu’elle est tresnoble femme,
Car chascun a joye de li loer.
38. Balade: «Car trop par est son cuer plain de reffus»
A mon advis, Dieu, Raison, et Nature
En li former se sont bien entendus,
Car faite l’ont de tous les vices pure
Et paree de toutes les vertus.
Ne je ne croy qu’au jour d’ui vive nulz
Qui onques veist dame miex assevie,
Se n’est pour tant que d’amer na envie,
Car trop par est son cuer plain de reffus.
Le vis a bel, fassonné a droiture,
Le plus doulcet qui onques fust veus.
Col, main, et bras, couleur et cheveleure
De tous les beaux sont les plus beaux tenus.
Corps gracieux, mignotement vestus,
Chantant, dansant, et de maniere lie.
Mais son temps pert qui d’amours la prie,
Car trop par est son cuer plain de reffus.
Loyauté, sens, honneur, et nourreture,
Et doulz maintien sont d’elle congneus.
Tresbien entent et respont par mesure.
De tous les biens est son cuer pourveux.
Le Dieu d’Amours ne devroit querir plus
Si li prenoit talent d’avoir amie.
Et si croy je que ceste n’aroit mie,
Car trop par est son cuer plain de reffus.
39. Balade: «Priez pour moy, tous les loyaulx amans»
Or est ainsi que pour la bonne et belle,
Gracieuse ou tous biens sont manans,
Je sui ferus ou cuer soulz la mamelle
Du dart d’Amours, dont le fer est tranchans.
Et si vous dy qu’il a passé sept ans,
Mais encor n’est la playe refermee,
Car sans mercy ne peust estre sanee.
Priez pour moy, tous les loyaulx amans.
Helas! Pitié, tresdoulce damoiselle,
Je vous en prie que me soiez aidans.
Contre Dangier soustenez ma querelle,
Car il est fort et ses amis sont grans.
Durté me hait e Paour m’est nuisans.
Se par vous n’est ma santé recouvree,
Pour bien amer yert ma vie finee.
Priez pour moy, tous les loyaulx amans.
De bien amer tous les jours renouvelle
Le cuer de moy, qui est obeissans
En actendant le bon plaisir de celle
A qui je sui et vueil estre servans.
Las! Je ne sui que simples et souffrans,
Et me soustien sur ma loyal pensee
Jusques Mercy m’ait sa grace monstree.
Priez pour moy, tous les loyaulx amans.
40. Balade: «Tout a rebours de ce qu’on vuelt trouver»
Certes, Amour, c’est chose convenable
Que vos grans bien faciez chier comparer:
Veillier ou lit et jeuner a la table,
Rire en plorant et en plaignant chanter,
Baissier les yeulx quant on doit regarder,
Souvent changier couleur et contenance,
Plaindre en dormant et songier a la dance,
Tout a rebours de ce qu’on vuelt trouver.
Jalousie, c’est la mere du deable.
Elle veult tout veoir et escouter,
Ne nulz ne fait chose si raisonnable
Que tout a mal ne le veult tourner.
Amours, ainsi fault voz dons acheter,
Et vous donnez souvant sans ordonnance
Assez doulour et petit de plaisance,
Tout a rebours de ce quon vuelt trouver.
Pour un court temps, le geu est aggreable,
Mais trop par est encombreux a user,
Et ja soit il a dames honnorable,
A leurs servans est trop grief a porter.
Tousdiz convient souffrir et endurer,
Sans nul certain languir en esperance,
Et recevoir mainte male meschance,
Tout a rebours de ce quon vuelt trouver.
41. Balade: «De li servir ne seray jamais las»
Amours, sachiez que pas ne le veulz dire
Pour moy getter hors des amoureux las,
Car j’ay porté si long temps mon martire
Qu’a mon vivant, ne le guerpiray pas.
Il me souffit d’avoir tant de soulas
Que veoir puisse la belle gracieuse.
Combien q’elle est envers moy dangereuse,
De li servir ne seray jamais las.
Certes, Amours, quant bien a droit remire
Les hauls estas, les moiens, et les bas,
Vous m’avez fait de tous les liex eslire,
A mon adviz, le meilleur en tous cas.
Or ayme, Cuer, si fort com tu porras,
Car ja n’auras paine si doloureuse
Pour ma dame qui ne me soit joieuse.
De li servir ne seray jamais las.
Cuer, il te doit assez plus que souffire
D’avoir choisi si bien que choisi as,
Ne querir plus royaume n’empire.
Car si bonne jamais ne trouveras,
Ne si belle, par mes yeulx, ne verras.
C’est jeunesse sachant et savoureuse.
Ja soit elle de m’amour desdaigneuse,
De li servir ne seray jamais las.
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37–41. The Sequence of Five Ballades
37. Ballade: “For everyone takes joy in praising her”
There is no comfort that does me as much good
When I cannot speak to my lady
As to have the time, leisure, and space
To think at length upon her great worth
And to recall her sweet feminine qualities
Within my heart. She is my life, by my soul!
Nor do I find any man who blames me,
For everyone takes joy in praising her.
In her there is beauty, goodness, and grace
More than any man could ever describe.
It is great fortune that in so small a space
God wished to assemble every good.
Honor wishes to honor her above all others.
I never saw so charming a young lady
Have so noble a reputation among all people,
For everyone takes joy in praising her.
Wherever she is, she does good and effaces evil.
Laughter and play suit her very well.
Her heart amuses and entertains others
So happily that it should not be blamed.
No one can grow tired of seeing her.
Her look is worth all the riches of a kingdom.
It truly appears that she is a most noble woman,
For everyone take joy in praising her.
38. Ballade: “Because her heart is much too full of scorn”
In my opinion, God, Reason, and Nature
Were all in accord in forming her,
For they created her pure of every vice
And adorned with all of the virtues.
And I do not believe that anyone lives today
Who ever saw a more perfect woman,
Except that she has no desire to love,
Because her heart is much too full of scorn.
Her face is beautiful, fashioned to perfection,
The sweetest one that was ever seen.
Neck, hands, and arms, complexion and hair
Are considered the most beautiful of all.
A graceful body, daintily attired,
Singing, dancing, and of joyous manner.
But he wastes his time who asks her for love,
Because her heart is much too full of scorn.
Loyalty, sense, honor, and good upbringing,
And gentle conduct are all well known to her.
She listens well and answers prudently.
Her heart is provided with every good.
The God of Love would need to seek no further
If the desire to have a lover took hold of him.
And yet I believe that she would not have him,
Because her heart is much too full of scorn.
39. Ballade: “Pray for me, all you loyal lovers”
Thus it is that for the good and fair one,
The gracious one in whom all virtues dwell,
I am struck in the heart beneath the breast
By the dart of Love, of which the point is sharp.
And thus I tell you that seven years have passed,
But still the wound is not yet closed,
For without mercy it cannot be healed.
Pray for me, all you loyal lovers.
Alas! Pity, most sweet damsel,
I beseech you to come to my aid.
Support me in my quarrel against Danger,
For he is strong and his friends are great.
Harshness hates me and Fear does me harm.
If through you my health is not restored,
For loving well my life will come to an end.
Pray for me, all you loyal lovers.
In loving well is each day renewed
My heart, which is obedient
While awaiting the pleasure of her
Of whom I am and wish to be the servant.
Alas! I am but simple and suffering,
And I sustain myself with loyal thought
Until Mercy has shown her grace to me.
Pray for me, all you loyal lovers.
40. Ballade: “Exactly the opposite of what one wants”
Surely, Love, it is a fitting thing
That you exact a high price for your goods:
Lying awake in bed and fasting at table,
Laughing while crying and singing while lamenting,
Lowering the eyes when one ought to look,
Often changing color and expression,
Lamenting while sleeping and dreaming at the dance,
Exactly the opposite of what one wants.
Jealousy is the mother of the devil.
She wants to see and listen to everything,
Nor does anyone do anything so reasonable
That she doesn’t want to turn it into evil.
Love, that’s how we have to pay for your gifts,
And you often give out arbitrarily
Grief enough and very little pleasure,
Exactly the opposite of what one wants.
For a short time, the game is agreeable,
But it is much too hard to keep it up,
And though to ladies it is honorable,
It is too painful for their servants to bear.
One must constantly suffer and endure,
Languish in hope without any certainty,
And receive many a harsh misfortune,
Exactly the opposite of what one wants.
41. Ballade: “I will never grow tired of serving her”
Love, know that I don’t want to say it
In order to free myself from the snares of love,
For I have endured my suffering for so long
That while I live, I will not give it up.
It is enough for me to have so much solace
As to be able to see the fair gracious one.
However disdainful she is with regard to me,
I will never grow tired of serving her.
Certainly, Love, when I consider rightly
The high estates, the middle, and the low,
Among all places, you have made me choose,
It seems to me, the best in every way.
So love, Heart, as strongly as you can,
For you will never have a pain so grievous
For my lady’s sake that it is not joy to me.
I will never grow tired of serving her.
Heart, it ought to more than satisfy you
To have chosen as well as you have
And no longer to seek a kingdom or an empire.
For you will never find anyone as good,
Nor will you ever see one as beautiful, by my eyes.
She is a wise and delectable youth.
Although she is disdainful of my love,
I will never grow tired of serving her.
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