"Barons! your castles in safety place,
Your cities and villages, too,
Before ye haste to the battle-scene:
And Papiol! quickly go,
And tell the lord of 'Yes and No'
That peace already too long hath been!"[4]
[Footnote 4: I cannot forbear taking a bit of margin to print the
closing stanzas of the original, which carry the clash of sabres in
their very sound.
"Ie us dic que tan no m' a sabor
Manjars ni beure ni dormir
Cum a quant aug cridar: A lor!
D'ambas las partz; et aug agnir
Cavals voitz per l'ombratge,
Et aug cridar: Aidatz! Aidatz!
E vei cazer per los fossatz
Paucs e grans per l'erbatge,
E vei los mortz que pels costatz
An los tronsons outre passatz.
"Baros, metetz et gatge
Castels e vilas e ciutatz,
Enans q' usquecs no us guerreiatz.
"Papiol, d'agradatge
Ad _Oc e No_ t' en vai viatz,
Dic li que trop estan en patz."
It would seem that the men of that time, like men of most times, bore a
considerable contempt for people who said "Yes" one day, and "No" the
next.]
I am on my way to Italy, (it may as well be confessed,) where I had
fully intended to open my rainy day's work; but Turner has kept me, and
then Auvergne, and then the brisk battle-song of a Troubadour.
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