Raymond of Miraval to His Lady

Lady, if Mercy help me not, I ween
That I to be thy slave am all too mean,
For thy great worth small hope to me has given
Aught to accomplish meet for dame so rare —
Yet this I would, and nowise will despair;
For I have heard, the brave, when backward driven,
Strive ever till the conquering blow they deal,
So strive I for thy love by service leal.

Though to such excellence I come not near,
Nor eke of one so noble am the peer,
I sing my best, bear meekly Love's hard burden,
Serve thee and love thee more than all beside.
Shun ill, seek after good whate'er betide;
Wherefore, methinks, fair dame should liefer guerdon
With her dear self a valiant knight and true,
Than the first lord that haughtily may woo.

Against cruel Love I ever fight amain,
As wars a vassal 'gainst his suzerain,
That him with scanty justice would disherit;
Such vassal, seeing warlike enterprise
Avails him not, perforce for mercy cries,
So I, the better Love's sweet joys to merit,
Seek pardon for what faults in him I find,
And pray his pride may turn to pity kind.

Her eyes so lovely yet so full of guile,
At that which makes me weep and sigh do smile,
That graceful form, that frank and noble bearing,
Slay me with longing — yet the dear delight
Of calling mine that lady fair and bright
I ne'er may know, nathless as her true knight
E'en unto life's last hour my faith I plight.