Troubadour Songs of Love
Never was I so overcome
By any love, nor in distress,
But now I’m conquered totally
By her good sense and honesty.
Fair is her body, clear her face,
White her hands, and her fingers long.
Gentle bearing, tender smile:
Well-formed she is, yes, everywhere.
I rarely see her
Travelling the French countryside in the 12th and 13th centuries, the troubadours of the south and trouvères of the north began the tradition of lauding the lady in song and verse. Proclaiming their subordination, service, and often suffering, the lively, playful songs of these poets celebrate the ultimate virtues of the lady. They refrain from insisting on the higher purposes of spiritual love, invoking instead the muses, emotions, and imagination.
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