A trouvere is a secular musician from Northern France beginning in the twelfth century. They composed their lyrics in their native language(s).
Thibaud de Champagne was born a count in 1251 and later became king of Navarre. He married three times and went on Crusade to the Holy Land. He died in 1253.
Gilles Binchois was born around 1400 and died in 1460. He studied music at the Burgundian School, and so inherited the musical traditions of the trouveres, though he lived much later than the peak time of trouvere music.
Pour froidure ne pour yver felon by Thibaud de Champagne
Vernacular:
Pour froidure ne pour yver felon
Ne laisserai
Que ne face d’amours une chançon,
Et si dirai
Que, qui ainme, repente s’en s’il puet!
Chascuns le dit, mais mentir l’en estuet.
Qui bien aimme, il ne s’en puet partir,
Tant que l’arme li soit dou cors partie.
Pour moi le dit, que l’ai mis a raison;
A moi tençai.
Plus pren(t) consoil de si faite achoison,
Plus m’en esmai;
Que li esmais de mon fin panser muet.
Plus pans a li et plus en i apluet.
Dame, merci ! Je ne vos puis faillir;
Ainçois sera mers por pluie faillie.
Dame, se j’ai de mes granz maus paour,
Ne vos poist pas,
Que bien poez alegier ma dolour.
Et tu t’en vas,
Chançon, a li, si li di en plorant
C’une merci d’amors en sopirant
Vaut bien cent tanz a fin lëaul ami
Que ne porroit por riens cuidier s’amie.
Fort sont li laz et grant li covertour,
Ce n’est pas gas,
En qui cil est qui ainme par amors.
Et qu’en diras,
Puis que je sai et conois son semblant
Et je me toing ensi devers sa gent?
M’a ele donc pris, loié ne saisi?
Oïl, certes, ja n’en iert dessaisie.
Nuns ne porroit de cestui mal esmer
Fors vos, dame, con bien il puet durer;
Et s’il vos plait, nou metez en obli,
Que nule foiz mes cuers ne vos oblie.
English:
Neither for cold nor for harsh winter
Will I refrain
From singing a song of love;
And I will say
That whoever loves, let him repent if he can!
Everyone says he loves, but must lie;
Whoever truly loves cannot abandon it,
Until his soul departs from his body.
I say it for myself, whom I have questioned;
I have argued the point.
The more I reflect on the issue,
The more I am confused,
For the confusion arises from my loving thoughts;
The more I think of her, the more I am troubled.
Lady, have pity! I cannot abandon you,
Any more than the sea would disappear for lack of rain.
Lady, if I fear my grievous ills,
Let it not distress you,
For you can easily alleviate my suffering.
Go thou,
Song, to her, and say to her through tears
That pity in love in response to sighs
Is worth a hundred times more to a true, loyal lover
Than his lady might ever think.
The snares and traps are fearsome
- It is no joke -
That catch true lovers.
And what will you say of her,
Knowing as I do her ways,
And being amongst her entourage?
Has she then captured, bound, and seized me?
Oh yes, indeed, and there is no escape.
No one other than yourself, my lady,
Could decide how long this suffering should last;
And if it please you, do not forget it,
For never could my heart forget you.
Amours mercy by Gilles Binchois
Vernacular:
Amours merchi de trestout mon pöoir
tant que je puis, quant il m’a fait choisir
tres douchement et tout a mon voloir
agatié m’a un tres riche plaisir.
Cescune fois que j’en ay souvenir
le cuer de moy devient tout joieux:
prendre ne puis nul espoir doloreux,
si richement l’ay choysi a mon gré,
et par Amours que le m’a comandé.
English:
With all my strength I thank Love,
as much as I can, for she has given me the choice,
very sweetly, and exactly as I wanted,
she has selected a rich delight for me.
Each time I think of this
my heart is filled with joy:
melancholic feelings have no grip on me,
for I had the luxury to choose him freely,
and also Love who recommended him to me.