Song on the Fourth Crusade

Now be to us a guide
The Lord, who for us died,
For whom the noble-hearted,
'Mongst whom I long abide,
I leave, and much beside —
Love, honour, wealth, and pride;
If sad from these I've parted,
I pray He may not chide.
Farewell, sweet Limousin,
And those that dwell therein:
Fair dames of gentle bearing,
Stout knights that honour win,
Neighbours and next of kin!
Sad on my way I'm faring,
And bitter tears begin
To shed, with groans despairing.

Now anti-Christ doth haste
Fair countries to lay waste,
And Vice, her foes dismaying,
Sweet Virtue hath abased;
Her hand on princes placed.
Good from their hearts hath chased,
And avarice on them preying.
Foully their names disgraced —
He, who o'er France doth reign,
Base gold had liefer gain,
Norman or Frenchman plunder,
Than Seifeddin constrain
To yield up what hath lain
Too long his foul yoke under —
Such kings full long in pain
Will groan, or great the wonder.