Elegy on Reinmar

Alas, that neither wit nor worth,
Man's youth nor beauty, on this earth
Fall to an heir when once the body's dead!
At this a wise man well may grieve,
Whose heart the full loss can conceive:
Reinmar, what goodly art in thee hath fled!
Now recompense for this thou shouldst discover,
That thou wouldst never let a day pass over
But thou of ladies spakest fair [and of sweet women's ways].
Though thou hadst sung nought save the single strain,
"Lady, all hail! how pure a name!" thou wouldst have won their praise,
So that all women evermore their prayers for thee should raise.
In sooth, Reinmar, I weep for thee
Far sorer than thou wouldst for me,
If I were dead and thou wert living on.
Upon mine oath I will avow,
Thyself I'd mourn but little now;
I mourn thy noble art, that it is gone.
Thou couldst make greater all the world's enjoyment,
When thou wouldst turn thy art to fair employment.
I weep thy mouth that spake so fair and thy most tuneful song,
That they have perished ere my days be o'er.
Ah, that thou couldst not wait a little more!
So should I bear thee company; my singing's not for long.
May thy soul come to heavenly bliss, and thanks be to thy tongue!