Et se ce fai rudement,
De vous gracieusement
M’en soit l’euvre pardonnee,
Ma dame, si vraiement
Que mes cuers est ligement
Tous vostres sanz demouree.

Je fui, ma dame de pris,
Sanz mespris,
En qui tout bien est compris
Par vo tres douce maniere
De vous bien amer espris
Et souspris,
Si que encore sui tout pris
Quant je voy vo lie chiere.

Si ne doi estre repris
Se j’empris
A vous amer, que je pris,
Quar Amours fine et entiere
Le m’a enjoint et apris;
S’est mes pris,
Que ne m’aiés en despris,
Ma tres doulce dame chere.

Et quant je me senti a ce mené,
Par le pooir d’Amours, qui tous cuers vaint,
Que mi penser furent tout ordené
En vous, ma dame, en qui tous mes corps maint.

Je, confians de vostre humilité,
D’ardant desir fort espris et contraint
A vous servir de bonne volenté
M’offri, dame, moult de paour attaint.

Et vous, ma dame honnoree,
De franchise enluminee,
De humilité renommee,
Et de toute honnour paree,
Disant grant mercis
De maniere asseüree,
Par semblant enamouree,
Si fistes estre doublee
L’ardour et renouvelee,
Ou j’estoie mis,

Dont ma coulour fu muee,
Et ma vigour tresalee,
Comme se chose facee
M’eüst troublé a journee
Tous mes esperis.
Helas! doulce desiree,
Gaires n’estes aprestee,
Attainte ne apprisee,
De la peine a moy donnee
Pour vostre doulz vis.

Ainsi departant,
Ma dame vaillant,
Fui de vous; maiz tant
Me senti engrant
Devers vous retraire,
Que tous jours present
Estoie et tendant
A vo doulz semblant,
Et gent corps plaisant,
Pour y retour faire.

Si me mis avant
Par maintes fois, quant
Vers vous esbatant,
Juant et bourdant,
On se pouoit traire,
La doulçour si grant
Estoie sentant
En vous regardant,
Que mieux n’en vivant
Ne me peüst plaire.

Et ce m’a tenu en joie
Si grande que ne vouloie
Greigneur bien, ne ne queroie
Que la douçour ou j’estoie
En trestout me delitoie
Et sanz grevance faisoie
Tout ce que de cuer pensoie
Comment n’y failloie.

Quant aucune part aloie,
Si tres legiers me sentoie
Que a mon avis je voloie;
Et ainsi mon temps passoie,
Ne nul courroux ne tenoie,
Puis que a penser m’atournoie
A vous doulce, simple et coie,
A cui tous mes cuers s’ottroie.

Helas! celle douce vie,
Renvoisie
Et jolie,
M’a pou tenu compaignie,
Dont je me dueil fort.
Par malvaise genglerie,
Par envie
Commencie.
Diex Malebouche maldie
Et dont elle a port,

Quar la perverse pourrie,
Ennemie
Renoiie
Defait contre moy partie
Et me greve a tort
Tant que jour, nuit ne demie
N’est partie,
Ne faillie
Ma doulour, ne amenrie
Dont j’ay pis que mort.

Quar ce que j’ay plus doubté que mourir
M’est avenu; bien doy l’eure haïr.
C’est qu’il me faut, et par force, abstenir
D’aler parler et aussi d’envoier
Vers ma dame que j’aim, craing, et desir
Plus que chose que Dieux ait fait venir.
Helas! comment pourraie je ce souffrir?
Je ne le sçay, se Dieux me vueille aider.

Si n’en peüst qu’a moy seul mesvenir,
Je fusse tous conseillés de choisir,
Maiz ma dame en pourroit grant mal sentir
Et sanz raison son oïr reprochier,
Et ce mes cuers ne pourroit consentir.
Ainsi me doint Amours de li joïr
Que oncques vers lui n’oi cuer, fait, ne desir,
Ne pensee pour s’onnour empirier.

Et elle est, a dire voir,
Pleinne de si grant savoir,
Et si bien veult son devoir
Faire leur elle est tenue
Que on ne lui pourroit mouvoir
A mal, ne li decevoir,
Tant est pour tout parcevoir
Sage, et de bien pourveüe.

Chascun scet bel recevoir
Dont sa bonté apparoir
Se fait et ramentevoir
Tant que bien est congneüe,
Dont je me doy bien doloir
Et avoir cuer triste et noir,
Quant de si plaisant miroer
M’est couverte la veüe.

Je ne sçay
Que verray
Ou iray,
Ne que devenray,
Maiz, comment qu’il aille
Et ameray,
Serviray,
Cremiray,
Et obeiray
Ma dame sanz faille.

Pour esmay,
Se je l’ay,
Et maltray,
Je ne laisseray
Bon grain pour la paille,
Ains aray
Cuer tres vray,
Et feray
Ce que deveray,
Et vaille que vaille.

Ma tres doulce dame excellente,
Pour ce que vo loyaux cuer sente
Et sache le bien et dolour
Que bonne Amours en mon cuer ente
Pour vous que on doit dire vraie ente
De tout bien et de toute honnour.

En ce lay faire ay je mis mente
Et compris, sans ce que je mente
Ma vie, attains de vostre amour,
Si veulliés, s’on le vous presente,
A l’oïr lire estre presente,
Et ne le tenés a labour.

Amis, tieng certainnement
Qu’il me desplaist grandement
De la peinne a toy livree,
Maiz il faut souffrir souvent
La choze qui bonnement
Tost ne puet estre amendee.

Vif en espoir liement,
Et serf Amours loialment,
Quar toudis n’ara duree
Chis temps, et aucunnement
Verras que pour toy briefment
Sera joie recouvree.

Guillaume de Machaut (c1300-1377)

And if I do so ineptly,
May my labours be pardoned
By you in your mercy,
My lady, for in truth
My heart is faithfully
All yours without hesitation.

I was, my worthy lady
Without a flaw
Who embodies every virtue,
By your so sweet manner
Set to burning with a strong love for you
That took me by surprise,
And so even now I am completely smitten
When I lay eyes on your pleasant demeanour.

And so I should not be reproached
If I undertake
To love you, whom I prize, since I am overcome,
For Love, pure and without flaw,
Has moved me to this, offering instruction,
So my prayer is
That you do not hold me in disregard,
My lady so sweet and cherished.

Since I feel myself encouraged in this
By the power of Love, which vanquishes every heart,
So that my thoughts are wholly directed
Toward you, my lady, in whom all my being resides.

In your good graces I have confidence,
Smitten strongly and driven by a burning desire
To serve you with a good will.
Afflicted by fear, I gave myself to you, my lady.

And you, my honoured lady,
Made splendid by generosity,
Renowned with humility,
And graced with every kind of honour,
Saying ‘Many thanks’.
In a confident way,
With a friendly demeanour,
You caused to double
The ardour, now renewed,
Which had been my lot,

And so the colour ran from my face,
And my confidence was shaken
As if some disturbing thing
Had been troubling my very soul
That day.
Alas! Woman sweet and desired,
You were hardly aware at all,
Affected by or knowledgeable about
That pain served out to me
By your sweet face.

And thus I departed,
My worthy lady,
From your side, but so much
Was I moved
To make my way back to you
So that every day I was present
With you and attentive
To your sweet appearance,
And your lovely form.
To return to your side.

I moved forward
Those many times when,
While you were at play,
Enjoying yourself and conversing,
It was possible to approach you.
The sweetness was so great.
That I then felt
Looking at you
That nothing in my experience
Could please me as much.

And this kept me in a state of joy
So great that I might wish for
Or seek out no greater good,
And the pleasure I experienced
Gave me delight in everything,
And, not pained at all, I would do
Everything that was in my heart.
However I did not fail.

When I made my way anywhere
To feel so lighthearted
That all went as I wished,
And in this state I passed my time,
Nor did I feel any distress
Since my mind turned in its thoughts
To your humble and demure person,
To whom I had devoted myself.

Alas, this sweet life,
Full of pleasure
And appealing,
Was only briefly my companion,
And I feel great misery as a result.
It was through ill-intentioned gossip,
Through jealousy,
That this came about.
May God curse Evil Tongue
And all who aid her,

For this malicious and rotten
Foe,
This traitress
Undermines my suit
And does me great harm,
So much in fact it never leaves me,
Day or night, not even somewhat,
Nor does my pain
Vanish or find itself diminished,
And so I’m worse off than if I were dead,

For my lot has become what I have feared
More than death itself. I hate fiercely that hour and should!
It’s that I must force myself to abstain from
Going to speak with her, and from sending messages
To my lady, whom I respect and desire
More than any creature God has brought forth.
Alas! how can I suffer this?
I don’t know if God might help me.

If this meant only my misfortune,
I would reconcile myself to accepting it,
But my lady might find trouble as a result,
And hear herself reproached without reason,
And my heart does not let me agree to this.
The joy Love grants me to take in her
Means that never anything I feel or desire
Or think would lessen the honour she possesses.

And she is, to speak the truth,
Full of such great knowledge,
And so eager is she to do
What she should that she remains firm,
And no one can persuade her
To do ill, or deceive her,
And so in fact she is seen
To be wise and full of virtue.

Every man can receive
And commit to memory
The goodness she manifests,
And she is very much recognized for this,
So I surely should feel great sorrow
And have a heart black with sadness
When my view of such
A pleasant mirror is obscured.

I do not know
What I will see
Or where I’ll go,
Nor what will happen to me,
But whatever comes to pass,
I will love
And serve,
Respect,
And be obedient to
My lady, without fail.

For any dismay
I might have
I will endure.
I will not abandon the grain
For any chaff,
But will have
A heart so true,
And I will do
Whatever I must,
No matter what.

My so sweet and excellent lady,
So that your faithful heart might sense
And come to know the good and the pain
That virtuous Love grafts into my heart
For the sake of you, whom one should call the true grafting
Of every virtue and honour of every kind.

It’s for this that I’ve put and included my thoughts
In the writing of this lay, saying nothing untrue
Of how my love for you has changed my life,
And you should be pleased if someone
Recites the work in your presence,
And may you not think it wearisome.

Friend, be certain
That I am mightily displeased
By the pain measured out to you,
But one must often suffer with
Something that might not properly
Admit of being remedied quickly.

Live on in pleasant hope
And serve Love faithfully,
For this time will not last
For ever, and soon enough
You will somehow see the recovery
Of your joy.

English: R Barton Palmer © 2017