Aimeric de Peguilhan

thumb|I by no means know all the wisdom of Solomon. Aimeric de Peguilhan (c. 1170 – c. 1230) was a troubadour from Peguilhan in Gascony who wrote in the Occitan language. Quotes thumb|You have me more fully in your power than the Old Man his Assassins, who go to kill his mortal enemies, even if they were beyond France. Car mieills m'avetz ses doptanssa,Qe·l Vieills l'Asasina gen,Qu'il vant, neis s'eron part Franssa,Tant li son obedien,Aucir sos gerriers mortals. You have me more fully in your power than the Old Man his Assassins, who go to kill his mortal enemies, even if they were beyond France. Pos descobrir ni retraire, ll. 28–32. Edited by Pillet-Carstens, in Pakscher and De Lollis, Studj di filologia romanza, vol. 3 (Rome: Ermanno Loescher & Co, 1891) p. 426 (no. 391; cf. no. 397). Translated by Frank M. Chambers, "The Troubadours and the Assassins", Modern Language Notes, vol. 64, no. 4 (1949) p. 245 Si eu en soy desmentitzC'aysso no sia veritatzNo n'er om per mi blasmatzSi per ver m'o contreditz;Ans vey sos sabers plus gransSi·m pot venser d'ayso segons raysoQu'eu non say ges tot lo sen Salamo. If I am deceived in this, so that this be not the truth, then no man shall be criticized by me [on my account] if for the sake of truth he contradicts me; rather, I recognize his knowledge as greater if he can win out over me with reason, for I by no means know all the wisdom of Solomon. Quoted by Jaufre de Foixa, Regles de trobar, ll. 19–25. Edited by John H. Marshall, The 'Razos de Trobar' of Raimon Vidal (London: Oxford University Press, 1972) p. 56. Translated by Amelia E. Van Vleck, Memory and Re-Creation in Troubadour Lyric (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991) pp. 29–30 Lewis F. Mott, The Provençal Lyric (1901) New York: William R. Jenkins Lady, for you great torment must I bear.Sir, you are foolish, for I do not care.Lady, for heaven's sake to me be kind.Sir, quite in vain your empty prayers you'll find.Good lady, I do love you faithfully.Good sir, and I dislike you utterly.Lady, my heart is therefore in distress.Sir, mine is ever light with happiness.Lady, all comfortless, I die for you.Sir, 'tis a task it takes you long to do.Lady, to live is worse than to bave died.Sir, since it harms me not, I'm satisfied.Lady, by you I am discouraged merely.Sir, do you therefore think I love you dearly?Lady, one glance my saving could effect.Sir, hope or comfort you need not expect.Lady, I go elsewhere to beg for grace.Sir, go! for who retains you in this place?Lady, for love of you I cannot go.'Tis no affair of mine, sir, as you know.Lady, you answer me so harshly still.Sir, 'tis because I wish you every ill.Then, lady, I shall never see you kind?Sir, as you say: at last you know my mind. pp. 16–17 Love, you have cast me where I have no heed.For heaven's sake, my friend, do what you need.Love, you reward at last for every wound.Friend, I will therefore make you safe and sound.Love, why compel the choice of such a one?Friend, I will show you what had best be done.Love, I can't bear the pain that rends my heart.Friend, I will choose another for your part.Love, all you do I see is of no use.Friend, you do wrong to utter such abuse.Love, must I part from her? Then tell me why.Friend, 'tis because I grieve to see you die.Love, do not think my heart from her to lure.Friend, then resolve in patience to endure.Love, may I hope my happiness to gain?Friend, yes at last, through service and through pain. p. 18 Good lady, I from you and Love receive  Sense, knowledge, vigor, heart, good words and song;  To you and Love the thanks and praise belongIf anything of worth I may achieve,For you have given me this mastery. p. 28 About Aimeric We are told that one great lord was so highly pleased with the first song of Aimeric de Pegulhan that he gave him his own palfrey and the very clothes he wore. Lewis F. Mott, The Provençal Lyric (1901) pp. 5–6 External links Category:Poets from France