Another Love

It is in vain, this silence I must break;

The fault of him I love moves me to speak.

Dearer than all the world he is to me;

But he regards not love not courtesy,

Nor wisdom, nor my worth, nor all my beauty -

He has deceived me. Such my fate should be,

If I had failed to him in loving duty.

Oh, strange and past belief that in disdain

Your heart, oh friend, should look upon my pain;

That now another love should conquer you,

For all that I may say, that I may do!

Have you forgotten the sweet first communion

Of our two hearts? Now sorely would I rue

If by my guilt were caused this last disunion.

The noble worth, the valour you possess,

Your fame and beauty add to my distress.

For far and near the noble ladies all,

If love can move them, listen to your call.

But you, my friend, whose soul is keenest-sighted,

Must know who loves you, and is true withal.

And ah! remember now the troth we plighted.

BEATRICE DE DIE (mid-twelfth century female troubadour)