Classic Poem

In grief I begin the lament
In a song which pains my heart;
Grief and pain and chagrin
I feel, for I see Youth debased:
Baseness is on the rise, and Joy is on the wane
Since the Poitevin has died.

They are no more, the rewards and praises
Which used to come from Poitou;
Ah! how the Barrau lament him;
It is a burden if I remain here longer;
Lord, the baron whom I call to mind —
Place him, if you please, in Paradise!

It is the Count of Poitiers I lament,
Who was the companion of Excellence;
Since Distinction and Generosity are lacking,
It is a burden for me to remain here long;
Lord, keep him far from Hell,
For his end was most noble.

Lord of Glory, I appeal to you,
For you take from me those whom I love;
Just as you created Adam,
Safeguard him from the cruel bond
Of the fire of Hell, so that it will not burn him;
For this world mocks us.

I consider this world despicable
For it cares neither for rich nor poor;
Ah! how all my friends pass away,
And we poor beggars remain here;
But I know that at the Last Judgment
The bad shall be separated from the good.

Courtly and renowned Gascons,
You have lost your lordship;
It must be harsh and bitter for you,
And for this Youth is miserable,
Since it finds none it can find welcome with,
Except Lord Alfonso, who has gained Joy.

The Normans and the French lament him,
As indeed should the king
To whom he left his land and his offspring;
Since his territory so greatly increases,
He will be to blame if he doesn't appear,
Riding against the Saracens.

Whoever may grieve for it, they are joyous,
The men of the Limousin and of the Angoumois;
If he had lived and had it pleased God,
He would have conquered them instantly;
They are saved because God took him,
And for this, mourning has begun in Aunis.

The lament has a good subject
Which Cercamon sends to Lord Ebles;
Ah! how the Gascons mourn him,
As do the Spanish and Aragonese;
St. James, remember the baron
Who lies as a pilgrim before you.