descendants were effectively canonized by Dante Alighieri, who
read the troubadour poets closely; employed in his own poetry the
Poetry of the Troubadours:
Trobars and Trobairitz in Occitania
Troubador poetry (from Occitan trobar—to find or invent;
in its female form troubaritz) blossomed during the twelfth and
early thirteenth centuries in a somewhat obscure part of Europe—
Occitania (also called the Languedoc, though the modern province
of Languedoc in France covers a substantially smaller area;
Provençe was another region originally included in Occitania, and
Provençal is now considered a dialect of Occitan), the central and
southwestern regions of France—which was at the same time the
center of Catharism, a variant of Christian Catholicism that
prompted a horrific civil war (begun by the Albigensian Crusade,
authorized by Pope Innocent III in 1209) and the Church’s first
major Inquisition (begun in Toulouse in 1229). This war and its
consequences served to destroy or silence the many poets among
the aristocrats themselves, and scatter the rest of the troubadours to
the west (Catalonia in Spain), the north (northern France, where
the next generation of poets became known as the trouvères), and
to the east (notably Germany, which seems to have had a parallel
tradition of poets called the minnesinger, and Italy). Although the
French descendants of the troubadours are arguably more
important for the history of music in Europe, the Italian
troubadour poetic form of the sestina; discussed the troubadour
poets at some length in his De vulgari eloquentia, where he
defined the troubadour lyric as “fictio rethorica musicaque poita:”
[rhetorical, musical, and poetical fiction]; and celebrated the
troubadour poets with approving portraits in his Purgatorio
(26.115-147).
Occitania was a land of many castles isolated in a rugged
landscape, but connected in many ways with the relatively nearby
(that is, across the Pyrenees mountains), communities of Andalusia
and what would become Catalonia in southeastern Spain), not least
the poetic traditions of Andalusia. Poets were so welcome in these
communities that a travelling cult of poetry developed around the
theme of fin’amor—a term that used to be translated as “courtly
love.” That latter term has been so misused and misunderstood by
generations of scholars and readers applying the ideas to a huge
range of times, places, and literary texts that scholars have returned
to the original form, which can be translated “refined love,” and
best understood in terms of its original contexts in Andalusian love
poetry from the late tenth and eleventh centuries (and associated
treatises on love like Ibn Hazm’s The Ring of the Dove) and in the
four major troubadour poetic forms developing in the later
eleventh and twelfth centuries:
Troubadour Poetry
Sestina: a fixed verse form that contains six stanzas
of six lines apiece, along with a 3-line envoi; also, the
words which end each line in the first stanza are used to
end all the lines in the remaining stanzas in a set pattern—
in short, an intricate form predating the sonnet, and
profoundly influential.
Canso: song style; in Italian canzone—according to
Dante a poem suitable for music, and thus the highest
poetic form: 3 stanzas and envoi with stanzaic rhyme
scheme.
Sirvente: parody, usually of a canso.
Tenso: debate poem.
Below you will find a selection of Occitan troubadours and one
troubairitz; most of these poems have been chosen in part because
music has survived, but also because these poets have been hugely
influential for Dante and for western music and literature more
broadly.
Arnaut Daniel (ca. 1150-ca. 1200)
Arnaut’s work survives in over 50 manuscripts, and his
fame clearly lasted well beyond his lifetime. He is credited with
the invention of the sestina. Arnaut was admired by Dante, who
considered Arnaut the greatest of the troubadours. Dante mentions
2
Arnaut several times in De Vulgari Eloquentia (Dante’s treatise
arguing for the use of vernacular languages—rather than Latin—
for poetry) as a poet who uses the vernacular to powerful effect,
and introduces him in the 26th canto of the Purgatorio. In that
canto, the Italian poet Guido Guinizelli refers to Arnaut as miglior
fabbro del parlar materno, that is, the “greater craftsman in the
mother tongue.” When Arnaut speaks in Purgatorio 26, it is in his
native Occitan language: Arnaut is the only character in the
Commedia allowed to speak in any language other than Italian—a
sign of Dante’s respect for Arnaut as the ideal vernacular poet. In
the poem below, notice the play between “nail” (ongle) and
“uncle” (oncle)—an strange pun to start, and very difficult to
interpret in translation.
The strong will which enters my heart—a sestina
The strong will which enters my heart
no beak nor nail of the liar,
who loses his soul through his tales, can tear away;
and since I dare not beat him with a branch or rod,
I will have my joy secretly, without my uncle,
in the orchard or in the bedroom
When I recall the bedroom where I know no one
Can enter to harm me,
But still is more arduous for me than
In the presence of a brother or uncle, I have no limb
That does not tremble, not even my nail like a child
Confronted with the rod: such is the fear that seizes my soul.
Troubadour Poetry 3
With her body, not her soul, would I secretly Born to a merchant family in Toulouse, the troubadour
Be received in the bedroom! For it wounds me more
Aimeric de Peguilhan first joined the court of Raimon V in
Than the blows of a rod that he who serves her may
Not be allowed to enter there where she is. I’ll always Toulouse, and later travelled extensively among various Iberian
Be as close to her, as flesh is to nail, and I’ll believe
courts, before establishing himself in Lombardy (in northern Italy)
The counsel of no one, not friend nor uncle.
after the dispersal of the troubadours in Occitania. Once there
Never did I love the sister of my uncle
Aimeric dedicated poems to the noble families of Montferrat, Este,
As much, by my soul!
As close as is the finger to the nail, so I would and Malaspina, and he composed tensos with Albertet and
Like to be to her bedroom!
Sordello. Around fifty of Aimeric's poems and five associated
The love which enters my heart has more power over me
Than a strong man has over a flimsy rod. melodies survive, and the majority of these poems are light cansos.
Dante, in De vulgari eloquentia, commends Aimeric's "Si cum
For not since the flowering of the dry branch
Or the engendering by Sir Adam of nephews and uncles l'arbres que, per sobrecargar," which appears in twenty-one of the
Has there been such a noble love as enters my heart,
twenty-four manuscripts that attest to Aimeric's contemporary
Nor do I believe has ever entered body or soul
Wherever she may be, out of doors or within her bedroom, popularity.
My heart cleaves to her as skin to the nail.
In Love I find small solace
For thus my heart sings and is nailed to her
Just as bark is to the branch;
In Love I find small solace, at least,
She is a tower, a palace, a bedroom of joy
I lack neither its good or its ills, and these are not the ills
And I love her ore than a parent or an uncle.
Of taking leave or separating from Love;
In Paradise my soul will know a double joy
For the more love kills me, the more I turn toward it.
If ever a man through too much loving entered there.
Yet I cannot know whether Love turns toward me
Or if I have the power to separate myself from Love.
Arnaut sends along his song of nail and of uncle
I lack nothing as long as I lack nothing in love,
To she who holds his soul under her rod,
For without Love I would not know where to seek my solace.
His Desired one, who enters the bedroom with merit.
I cannot part from Love, for love has taken hold of me,
And when I think of living it, it takes hold of me again
Aimeric de Peguilhan (ca. 1175 - ca. 1221)
More strongly by means of the one look
Which consumes my heart, sent by the one who inflames me.
But I do not believe that she inflames to her own detriment,
Troubadour Poetry 4
Nor that my heart could be consumed by another,
So that one could accuse me of being a false lover, Lady Betrice d’Este, so faithful and firm,
For all power resides in her That your spirit will never change or weaken,
As it pleases her, to abandon or receive me. Your glory becoming ever greater and established,
For my song and words do confirm it!
Because I have so completely submitted myself to her command,
I do not refuse to do anything she orders me to do.
But I ask that she not withdraw the favor which she,
At the beginning, had promised at my request to grant.
Henceforth, she commits a grave sin if she does not ask for me, Bernard de Ventadorn (active 1147-64; d. ca. 1194)
Or, at the very least, she performs a great mercy
If she does not withdraw her presence from me; Often considered the greatest lyric troubadour, and called
But I take it as a withdrawal on her part if she does not send for me
the “Master Singer,” Bernart’s poem below is quoted directly by
For it is clear that he who withholds, commands.
Dante (in Paradiso 20.73-78). Bernart was forced to leave his
In her reside all good qualities ever recounted
home in Occitan Ventadorn (in central France) when he fell in love
Except that she is slow to keep a promise and quick to retract.
For this reason I cannot suffer the ills which I must bear with his patron’s wife, Marguerite. His travels as a troubadour led
If, in return, Love does not bring me some good of it.
him to the great court of Eleanor of Aquitaine in England, to the
I shall suffer it all, whatever I receive of good or ill,
I will not retract my love, whatever I might bear, court of Raimon V in Toulouse, and eventually to a monastery
Whoever else might think of retracting,
where he spent the final days his life. His time in England and
I do not ever with tales of this kind to be told about me!
northern France made his work well known to the trouvères, those
My lady, my heart is so faithful and firm towards you
troubadours who fled north to escape the civil war and Inquisition
That I have no power to loosen it.
I swear by the saints and affirm against the Cathars in the Languedoc, along with their inheritors in
The more I think of parting from you, the more I stay.
northern France, who began a new set of musical and poetic
And if Mercy, made stronger by our separation, resides in you
By your grace, my cause is utterly destroyed and weakened, traditions there.
For I do not desire any other in the world be constant to me.
When I see the lark
The noble Conrad of Malaspina so constant
In largess and service to ladies that all must affirm
When I see the lark 

That he shall never depart from his high merit;
Spread its wings for joy and fly towards the sun,

For this reason one finds in him firm testimony.
Forget itself, and fall
In the bliss that rushes to its heart

Troubadour Poetry 5
Alas! How I then envy
All creatures that I see happy.
 And behaved like the fool on the bridge

I am amazed that my heart And I don't know how it came about

Does not melt away then with longing. Unless it was that I applied too much pressure.

Alas! how much of love I thought I knew
 Mercy is lost, truly


And how little I know,
 (And I never knew it)

For I cannot stop loving
 For she who should have had most

Her from whom I may have nothing.
 Has none: and where should I seek it now?

All my heart, and all herself,
 Oh! how pitiful it seems to him who sees - 

And all my own self and all I have
 Wretched and lovesick as I am,

She has taken from me, and leaves me nothing
 Unable to know happiness without her –
But longing and a seeking heart. 
How she lets me die, and will not come to my aid.

I no longer had power over myself,
 Since nothing can help me with my lady,

Nor belonged to myself from the moment
 Neither prayers nor grace, nor the rights that I have,

When she let me look into her eyes, Since it does not please her that I love her

Into that mirror which so delights me.
 I shall not speak of love again.

Mirror, since I was mirrored in you
 I give up love and deny it;

My sighs have slain me;
 She has willed my death, and I answer with death;

I am lost
 I leave, since she does not hold me back,

As fair Narcissus was lost in the spring. And go wretched into exile, not knowing where.

I despair of all women;
 You will not see my sorrow,


Never again shall I trust them;
 Since I am going, wretched not knowing where.

As much as I was formerly their protector
 I renounce and deny my songs

I shall now neglect them;
 And flee from joy and from love.
Since no woman will come to my aid

With her who destroys and confounds me

I fear them all and mistrust them
 Countess Beatriz de Dia (fl. 1160)
For well I know that they are all alike.
The Countess of Dia (a town northeast of Montelimar in southern
My lady wants to appear a good woman;

France) was reputed to have had an affair with another important
So I discourage her.

For she does not want what she should,
 troubadour of the period, Raimbaut, Count of Orange. She is the
And what is forbidden her, she does.

earliest, and general considered the best, of the trobairitz, or female
I have fallen into disfavor

Troubadour Poetry 6
troubadours. Five poems by her survive, four cansos and one But you, friend, have such understanding
That you can tell the best
tenson; the canso below is the only poem by a trobairitz to survive
And I remind you of our sharing
with its music intact.
My worth and my nobility should help me
My beauty and my fine heart
I must sing of what I do not want
Therefore, I send this song down to you
So that it would be my messenger
I must sing of what I do not want
I want to know, my fair and noble friend,
I am so angry with the one whom I love
Why you are so cruel and savage to me
Because I love him more than anything
I don’t know if it is arrogance or ill will
Mercy nor courtesy moves him
Neither does my beauty
But I especially want you, messenger, to tell him
Nor my worthiness nor my good sense
That many people suffer for having too much pride
For I am deceived and betrayed
As much as I should be if I were ugly
I’ve lately been in great distress
I take comfort because I never did anything wrong
Friend, towards you in anything
I’ve lately been in great distress
Rather I love you more than Seguin loved Valensa
Over a knight who once was mine
And I am greatly pleased that I conquered you in love
And I want it known for all eternity
My friend, because you are most worthy
How I loved him to excess.
You are arrogant to me in words and appearance
Now I see I’ve been betrayed
And yet you are so friendly towards everyone else
Because I wouldn’t sleep with him;
Night and day my mind won’t rest
I wonder at how you have become so proud
To think of the mistake I’ve made.
Friend, towards me, and I have reason to lament
It is not right that another love take you away from me
How I wish just once I could caress
No matter what is said or granted to you
That chevalier with my bare arms,
And remember how it was at the beginning
For he would be in ecstasy
Of our love! May Lord God never wish
If I’d just let him lean his head against my breast.
That it was my fault for our separation
I’m sure I’ happier with him
Than Blancaflor with Floris.
The great prowess that dwells in you
My heart and love I offer him,
And your noble worth retain me
My mind, my eyes, my life.
For I do not know of any woman, far or near
Who, if she wants to love, would not incline to you
Troubadour Poetry 7
Handsome friend, charming and kind,
When shall I have you in my power?
If only I could lie beside you for an hour
And embrace you lovingly—
Know this, that I’d give almost anything
To have you in my husband’s place,
But only under the condition
That you swear to do my bidding.