Song and Legend From the Middle Ages [11]
of Sarras, in the spiritual place. Then the knights marvelled, for that bishop was dead more than three hundred years tofore. Oh knights, said he, marvel not, for I was sometime an earthly man. With that they heard the chamber door open, and there they saw angels, and two bare candles of wax, and the third a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled marvellously, that three drops fell within a box which he held with his other hand. And they set the candles upon the table, and the third the towel upon the vessel, and the fourth, the holy spear even upright upon the vessel. And then the bishop made semblant as though he would have gone to the sacring of the mass. And then he took an ubbly, which was made in likeness of bread; and at the lifting up there came a figure in likeness of a child, and the visage was as red and as bright as any fire, and smote himself into the bread, so that they all saw it, that the bread was formed of a fleshly man, and then he put it into the holy vessel again. And then he did that longed to a priest to do to a mass. And then he went to Galahad and kissed him, and bad him go and kiss his fellows, and so he did anon. Now, said he, servants of Jesu Christ, ye shall be fed afore this table with sweet meats, that never knights tasted. And when he had said, he vanished away; and they set them at the table in great dread, and made their prayers. Then looked they, and saw a man come out of the holy vessel, that had all the signs of the passion of Jesu Christ, bleeding all openly, and said, My knights and my servants and my true children, which be come out of deadly life into spiritual life, I will now no longer hide me from you, but ye shall see now a part of my secrets and of my hid things: now hold and receive the high meat which ye have so much desired. Then took he himself the holy vessel, and came to Galahad, and he kneeled down and there he received his Saviour, and after him so received all his fellows; and they thought it so sweet that it was marvellous to tell. Then said he to Galahad, Son, wotest thou what I hold betwixt my hands? Nay, said he, but if ye will tell me. This is, said he, the holy dish wherein I ate the lamb on Sher-thursday. And now hast thou seen that thou most desiredst to see, but yet hast thou not seen it so openly as thou shalt see it in the city of Sarras, in the spiritual place.
LYRIC POETRY--FRENCH.
Lyric poetry sprang up very early in Northern France, having a spontaneous and abundant growth in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Of the earliest lyrics, the critics distinguish two varieties (l) the Romance, and (2) the Pastourelle. These are generally dramatic love stories, full of gay and simple life and extremely artistic and musical in form. Along with these was produced a vast amount of simple lyric poetry on love and other personal emotions. The number of poems written was immense. About two hundred names of poets have come down to us, besides hundreds of anonymous pieces.
The Romances and Pastourelles of the northern trouveres were soon greatly influenced by the more artful poetry of the Provencal troubadours, producing the highly artificial but charming rondeaus and ballades of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. But the freshest, most individual work is that of the earlier time.
CHATELAIN DE COUCY. Thirteenth Century.
The first approach of the sweet spring Returning here once more,-- The memory of the love that holds In my fond heart such power,-- The thrush again his song assaying,-- The little rills o'er pebbles playing, And sparkling as they fall,-- The memory recall Of her on whom my heart's desire Is, shall be, fixed till I expire.
With every season fresh and new That love is more inspiring: Her eyes, her face, all bright with joy,-- Her coming, her retiring, Her faithful words, her winning ways,-- That sweet look, kindling up the blaze, Of love, so gently still, To wound, but not to kill,-- So that when most I weep and sigh, So much the higher springs my joy.
--Tr. by Taylor.
THIBAUT OF CHAMPAGNE, KING OF NAVARRE.
LYRIC POETRY--FRENCH.
Lyric poetry sprang up very early in Northern France, having a spontaneous and abundant growth in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Of the earliest lyrics, the critics distinguish two varieties (l) the Romance, and (2) the Pastourelle. These are generally dramatic love stories, full of gay and simple life and extremely artistic and musical in form. Along with these was produced a vast amount of simple lyric poetry on love and other personal emotions. The number of poems written was immense. About two hundred names of poets have come down to us, besides hundreds of anonymous pieces.
The Romances and Pastourelles of the northern trouveres were soon greatly influenced by the more artful poetry of the Provencal troubadours, producing the highly artificial but charming rondeaus and ballades of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. But the freshest, most individual work is that of the earlier time.
CHATELAIN DE COUCY. Thirteenth Century.
The first approach of the sweet spring Returning here once more,-- The memory of the love that holds In my fond heart such power,-- The thrush again his song assaying,-- The little rills o'er pebbles playing, And sparkling as they fall,-- The memory recall Of her on whom my heart's desire Is, shall be, fixed till I expire.
With every season fresh and new That love is more inspiring: Her eyes, her face, all bright with joy,-- Her coming, her retiring, Her faithful words, her winning ways,-- That sweet look, kindling up the blaze, Of love, so gently still, To wound, but not to kill,-- So that when most I weep and sigh, So much the higher springs my joy.
--Tr. by Taylor.
THIBAUT OF CHAMPAGNE, KING OF NAVARRE.