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The Canzoni of Arndult Daniel

Translated by Ezra Pound, with original music
transcribed by Walter Morse Rummell.

We have received a valuable and beautiful
translation of the songs of an early Provençal poet, who, preceding Dante, was his
acknowledged mentor, and whose canzoni, although typical and expressive of the best
of that school, are here first translated into English.

The volume contains an introduction; the Provençal
text, with translation, retaining the original forms and
rime schemes: also the original music for the canzoni,
and a transcription of it into modern notation. The
writings exist in early XIV century MSS.

Few such opportunities present themselves to draw
from original sources such rich and hitherto unused
material. A creative and inspired appreciation and
critique by the translator is included in the work.

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March 1, 1913.

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XII;

The flowret lies

Before the branch had fruited
Unfolded half, trembling where birds' beaks reach
But not more fresh than she, No empire
Not Rome, Jerusalem, nor Tyr could bend

Me from her, ye see me hands joined and bending
In homage to her, and in such contrition
Two kings might find their honours more protected.
Spain's king and Dover's might be more respected

Mouth in what guise

Speaks thou? art thou deputed
To spoil me of such gifts promised, as could teach
Honour to the Greek emperor or the
Rulers of Rome, Palestine, Trebizond.

They gainst love I've no power for my defending,
O mouth how fain art thou of my perdition,
And how mad the man who hath his joy rejected.

# note at end of vol.

Whom Love makes so mad a rover
'Ull take a cuckoo for a swallow ,
if she say so, sooth he thinketh
where a plain where Puy-de-Dome is .
'Till his eyes and nails are gone
- Sure as old tales never vary -
Will he play and follow fairly ,
For his fond heart is he foredone .

well, I know sans writing's cover
what's a plain is, what's a hollow
I know well whose honour sinketh
and who 'tis that shame consumeth ,
They meet. I loose reception ,
shame 's a hound too swift to harry ,
mid false words I do not tarry
But from her lordship I'll be gone

Sir Bertran, sure no pleasure 's won
Like this freedom, naught so merry
'Twixt Nile 'n' where the suns miscarry
To where the rain falls from the sun .

OF THE TRADES AND .LOVE
CANZON X

Tho' this quaint measure confine me
And I chip out words and plane them
Still shall they be true and clear
When I finaly have filed them ;
Love glosses and gilds them, n knowing
That my song has for its start
One who is worth's hold and warrant.

Each day finer I refine me
And my cult and service strain them
Toward the world's best ye may hear,
"Hers" my root and tip have styled them
And tho' bitter winds come blowing
The love that rains down in my heart
Warmeth me when cold's abhorrent.

To long masses I resign me
give wax lights and lamps, maintain them
That God win me issue here,
Tricks of fence ? Her charm 's beguiled them.
When I see her brown hair glowing
And her body's fine frail art
She 's more loved than Lucerne for rent.

My desires round her twine me
Till I fear she would disdeign them.
Craft and wine, I have exiled them.
Yet her high heart overflowing
Leaves my heart no parched part
And new verse sprouts in the current.

If good love need ever fear

Tho' they'd th'empire assign me
and Op the popes chair I'd not deign them
If I could not have her near
My heart's flames have so high piled them
If she'll not be th'old year's going
Kiss away my deadly smart
Then I'm dead and damned I warrant .

Tho' great pains so malign me
I'd not have love's powers restrain them
Tho' they turn my whole life drear
See , my songs have beamed and tiled them
Until love 's worse work than mowing
Ne'er did pains like my pain dart
Through Moncli for Audierent ,

I ,Arnaut love the wind , doing
My hare-hunts on an ox cart
And I swim against the torrent .

RICA CONQUESTA
A Song of High Attaining
CANZON XVII

Did Lord Love lay upon me his wide largess
As I bear mine to her, with open heart,
He'd set no bar between me and the great,
For I'm borne up and fall as this love surges
Yet reckoning how she is the peak of worth

I mount in mine own eyes by daring her
Till heart and wit cry out that I'll attain
This rich conquest that 's set for my attaining.

I care not tho' delay delay enlarges
For I sweep toward, and pool me in, such part
That the mere words she speaks 'd hold me elate
I'd follow her until they sing my dirges
Sure as I can tell gold from brassy earth
She is without alloy, without demur
My faith and I are steadfast in her train
Until her lips invest me past all feigning.

The good respite recalls me and then discharges
A sweet desire wherewith my flancs so smart,
Yet still at peace I bear my beggared state
Since o'er all other peaks her grace emerges;
Who'er 's most noble seemeth of base birth
Compared with her, let him play justicer
Who 's seen how charm, worth, wit and sense all reign
Increase and dwell and stay where she dwells reigning.

Do't think my will will waste it o'er its marges
(She is so fair!) devide it or depart,
Nay by the dove God's ghost did consecrate
My mind 's not mine nor hers if it diverges.
No man desires, in all the wide world's girth,
Fortune with such desires as are astir
In me herward, and they reap my disdeign
Who deem love's pain 's a thing for light sustaining

I cast out my disdeign
On peeping eyes and gossip and complaining.

O All-Supremme, leave me no room for charges
That you are miserly, my love's sans art,
Candid, my heart can not shake off its weight.
It is not the sort a bottle-madness urges
But as night ends my day and day my mirth
I bow me toward you where my vows concur,
Think not my heart will ever be less fair
The heedy flame once lit burns on unwaning.

A cursing flame eat through your tongues and targets
O gossipers and make your sick eyes start
And go blind; all your vilen jests create
Till your vilen jests abate
We loose our steeds and marks + loss + high submerges
Loves self, God curse you + and loss submerges
Almost love's self, God, damn you that your dearth
Of sense brings down the shame that we incur,
O fools what blighting star grows you this bane
That kills in you the effect of all our training
the good effect

Lady, I've borne delay and will again
Bear long delay in trust of high attaining.

Dear long delay in transit of high attaining.
Lady, I leave gone delay and will again

the good effect
That kills in you the effect of all our training
O foods what plighting star grows you this pain
Of some brings down the shame that we incur,
Afmost love's self, God damn you that your dearth
Love's self, God curse you

We loose our atega and marks. I lose might anpumgea
till your vile atega spate
And go pling; all your wild atega create
O geasaibers and make your sick atea start
A curaing flame eat through your tonguea and targeta

The heady flame once fit purna on numming.
Think not my heart will even be less fair
I pow me toward you where my voma couch,
But sa night enga my day and day my birth
It is not the sort a bottle-magnea unges
Candid, my heart can not shake off its weight
That you are misera', my love, a suna sort,
O VII-Subrenme, leave me no room for charges