Medieval lyric for World Masterpieces section 02, 2009

In the Norton Anthology, read:

· Ibn Arfa’ Ra’suh, “The Singing Lute,” pp. 1390-91

· Abu-l-Hasan Ibn Al-Qabturnuh, “In Battle,” p. 1393.

· Betran de Born, “In Praise of War,” pp. 1403-04.

· Guilhem IX, Count of Poitou, Duke of Aquitaine, 1071-1127, Provençal, “Spring Song,” pp. 1391-92.

Melk Song of Mary, German, 1123-1142. (Translation by James Rushing)

Lo, Aaron laid a rod on the earth;

It bore almonds so noble.[1]

You have brought forth sweetness, mother without a man's assistance

Sancta Maria.

Lo, Moses saw a fire in the bush.

The wood did not burn, but he saw the flames above it,

long and broad; that signifies your maidenhood,

Sancta Maria.

Gideon, dux of Israel, spread out a lambskin

The dew of heaven soaked the wool[2]

In the same way, the divine power came to you and made you fertile,

Sancta Maria.

North star, dawn, unplowed field,

On which stands a flower that shines so beautifully.

She is among other women as a lilly among thorns,

Sancta Maria.

A fishing-line was woven, from which you were born;

That was your ancestry. The hook was God's power,[3]

On which Death was choked: through you he was revoked,

Sancta Maria.

Issiah the prophet foretold your coming

He told how from Jesse's tree a branch would grow,

From which a flower would bloom:[4] that means you and your son,

Sancta Maria.

There so gloriously heaven and earth marry,

That the donkey and the cow well recognize the holy child.

Your womb was a cradle for the lamb,

Sancta Maria.

There you bore the child of God, who redeemed us all

from eternal suffering with his holy blood.

For that he should be praised forever, and we rejoice because of you,

Sancta Maria.

You are a locked gate, opened by God's word,

A dripping honeycomb, full of spices,

You are free of bitterness, like the turtle dove,

Sancta Maria.

A sealed off fountain, a locked garden,

In which the balsam flows, and the cinnamon grows.

You are like the cedar tree, from which the worm flees,

Sancta Maria.

A cedar in Lebanon, a rose in Jericho,

you choicest myrrh, which grows so far away.

You are above all the angels, you who redeem the fall of Eve,

Sancta Maria.

Eve brought us double death,

You are the other woman, who brings us life.

The devil brought us death, Gabriel brought you God's word,

Sancta Maria.

Maiden, you bore a child more noble than all the world.

You are like the sun.

Hierusalem gloria, Israhel leticia,

Sancta Maria.

Queen of heaven, door of paradise,

you chosen house of God, shrine of the Holy Spirit,

You show us all the end of the path, at the end of time,

Sancta Maria.

Fridrich von Husen, early 13^th century, German.

“Ich denke under wilen / I often think.” (Translation from Penguin Book of German Verse, with my emendations in brackets.)

I often think what I would say to her if I were nearer her. It shortens the miles for me to imagine myself complaining of my sorrows to her. And so people see me behaving for days together as though I had not a care in the world, because I [bear it] like this.

If I had not taken such lofty devotion [hôher minne, literally “high love”] upon myself there might be some help for me. I did it without thinking, and so now all the time I have to bear distress which touches me closely. My own constancy has bound my heart so fast that, as things are now, she will not let it go.

It is a very strange thing: she whom I now love more than anyone has always been hostile to me. May no one ever know a sorrow which touches so closely; I thought I knew it already, but now I realize it fully. I was sad enough at home, but now I am three times as sad.

However little good it may do me, I am glad that no one can prevent my thoughts from being near her wherever I may be. This consolation at least she must let me have, and if she takes it in good part it will always give me delight, for I have always been more at her service than any other man.

Reinmar von Hagenau, early 13^th century, German.

“Ih wil allez gâhen / I will hurry away to my beloved.” Translation from Penguin Book of German Verse (brackets are the Penguin translator’s)

I will hurry away to my beloved, though a happy end to my yearning is still far off. Even so, I try every day and I serve her so that she will have to change the sorrow I bear into joy whether she wants to or not.

I was struck by something I heard said about her, that she was a lady of upright life. I put it to the test, and it is true. No [comparison with any] woman could harm her bby as much as a hair’s breadth, and that is little enough.

Whatever pleasure comes to me, wherever it may be, depends on her: I will not say this of anyone else. She is my Easter day, I love her from the bottom of my heart. He knows that well, to whom no man can lie.

Walther von der Vogelweide, German, c. 1170-1230.

“Unter der linde / Under the lime tree.” Translation by James Rushing.

Under the lime tree by the heather,

Where our bed was,

There you may find both

Flowers and grass broken.

Before the woods in a valley,

Tandaradey,

Beautifully sang the nightingale.

I came to the meadow, and

My lover was there before me.

There I was welcomed, noble lady [?],

In such a way that I am still happy about it.

Did he kiss me? A thousand times.

Tandaradey,

See how red my mouth is?

There he had made a lovely

bed of flowers.

Anyone who comes by the place

Will still laugh about it in secret.

By the roses –

Tandaradey –

He will notice where my head lay.

If anyone knew that he lay by me

(which God forbid), I would be ashamed.

What he did with me, no one must ever learn,

Except him and me,

And a little bird.

Tandaradey,

That must be secret!

“Saget mir ieman, waz ist minne? / Can anyone tell me what love it?” 1198-1203. Translation by James Rushing.

Can anyone tell me what love is?

If I know a little about it, I would like to know more.

Whoever understands it better than I do,

He should tell me why it hurts so much.

Love is love if it feels good,

But if it hurts, it shouldn’t rightly be called love.

In that case, I don’t know what it should be called.

If I can guess correctly

What love is, then say “yes!”

Love is the joy of two hearts:

If they share the love equally, then love is there;

But if it is not shared,

One heart alone cannot have it.

Oh, my lady, if only you would help me!

Lady, the part I am carrying is too heavy.

If you want to help me, help me in time.

But if I am unimportant to you,

Then say it openly. I will give up the struggle

And become a free man.

But you should know one thing, my lady:

No one can sing your praises better than I.

Can my lady make sweetness sour?

Does she think I will give her love in return for pain?

Should I praise her

For treating me as if I am unworthy?

Only if I could not see correctly.

Oh, what am I saying? – I have no eyes, no ears!

If you have been blinded by love, how can you see?