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			  | 
			
73. La Pastourelle Granson 
			 
			Une jeune, gentil bergiere 
			Et un simple loyal bergier 
			Vy jadis sur une riviere 
			Entre les autres soulacier, 
			Tost apres ouy comencier 
			Au bergier demandes et plaintes, 
			De joye poy, de doulours maintes. 
			Car il disoit en sa clamour 
			Et en juroit et sains et saintes 
			Que trop le tourmentoit Amour. 
			 
			LA BERGIERE 
			La bergiere, plaisant et belle, 
			Qui de tous biens savoit assez, 
			Lui respondoit: «Certes, fait elle, 
			De trop grant tort Amours blasmez. 
			Puisqu’a li vous estes donnez 
			Et mis tout en sa gouvernance, 
			Vostre cuer doit prendre plaisance 
			En tout ce qui est son vouloir 
			Et recevoir en souffissance 
			Le bien que vous povez avoir.» 
			 
			LE BERGIER 
			«Belle, s’il vous plaisoit a dire, 
			Dist le bergier en complaignant, 
			Quelle chose me doit souffire 
			Et quelle ne m’est souffissant, 
			Le dieu dAmours prens a garant 
			Que voulentiers content seroye. 
			Mais Amours veult que doubteux soye 
			Quant a plusieurs voy desirer 
			Ce que tout seul avoir vouldroye 
			Et je ne l’ay pas a garder.» 
			 
			LA BERGIERE 
			«Dont, dit celle, nul n’a puissance 
			De tollir a gens le penser. 
			Soit de monstrer leur contenance, 
			De rire ou de regarder, 
			De ce ne les puet nulz garder. 
			Mais qui en Loyauté se fie, 
			Je croy Amours ne s’en plaint mie. 
			Ainçois lui plaist que honneur face, 
			Soulas et bonne compaignie, 
			Pour acquerre bon non et grace.» 
			 
			LE BERGIER 
			«Cuer gracieux, ne vous desplaise. 
			Ce dit le bergier doulereux. 
			Cuidiez vous que mon cuer soit aise 
			Quant de vous sui fort amoureux 
			Et j’en puis veir un ou deux 
			Ou cinq ou dix ou vingt ou trente, 
			Que chascun dez leur met s’entente 
			A moy vers vous desavancier? 
			Certes Amours veult que je sente 
			Ce qui me nuit et puet aidier.» 
			 
			LE BERGIERE 
			«Et quant Amours n’y a pensee, 
			Intencion ne voulenté, 
			Pourquoy est elle donc blasmee 
			Se les nices font niceté? 
			Quant Honneur garde Loyaulté, 
			Ce dit la bien sachant pastoure, 
			Amours aroit vie trop dure 
			Se jeunesce ne se jouoit. 
			Autant vauldroit tort que droiture 
			Se nulz en bien ne se fioit.» 
			 
			LE BERGIER 
			«Belle, voirs est ce que vous dites, 
			Que jeunesce se doit jouer, 
			Et de tous biens doit estre quittes 
			Cilz qui ne s’i ose fier. 
			Mais s’il vous plaisoit aviser 
			A qui se doit jouer jeunesce 
			Fors a Honneur et Gentillesce 
			Et la ou ses jus sont bien pris, 
			Car foleur, cuidier, et rudesse 
			Donnent souvant blasme pour pris.» 
			 
			LA BERGIERE 
			«Dont vouldroy je bien apprendre, 
			Dist elle, et moy acointier 
			Par quel tour me doye deffendre 
			De celle gent acompaignier. 
			Se un fol me dit son cuidier, 
			J’ay ma response toute preste 
			Devant tous loyal et honneste. 
			Mais puisque nul ne parle riens, 
			On doit d’onneur suyr la feste 
			Et laissier a monstrer ses biens.» 
			 
			LE BERGIER 
			«Ha, se respondre vous osoye 
			Selon ce que je sens et sçay, 
			Certes, belle, je vous diroye 
			Que Loyaulté en fait l’esay. 
			Car qui aime de fin cuer vray, 
			Il y faut monstrer sa maniere 
			Selon son cuer, forte ou legiere, 
			Et quant Amours regne bien fort, 
			Bel Acuel s’en tient si arriere 
			Que nul cuidier n’y prent confort.» 
			 
			LA BERGIERE 
			«Si Bel Acuel ne venoit mie 
			Fors en un lieu tant seulement, 
			Ce dit la bergiere jolie, 
			Chascun verroit appartement 
			La ou amour de cuer entent, 
			Dont honneur porroit avoir blasme 
			Et encontre raison diffame. 
			Et se amour se doit celer, 
			Il convient donques une femme 
			A plus d’un veir et parler. 
			 
			LE BERGIER 
			«Je ne dy mie le contraire, 
			Mais tel parler et tel voir 
			Ne doivent conforter ne plaire 
			Nulz de ceulz qui font leur povoir 
			De vostre grace recevoir. 
			Puis que vous savez leur courage 
			Par leur dit ou par leur message, 
			Se plus fort ne les estranges, 
			Ilz cuident bien que leur langage 
			Vous soit plaisant, dont ilz sont liez.» 
			 
			LA BERGIERE 
			«Je fais souvent grant abstinence 
			De vivre ainsi que je me veil, 
			Mais dessoubz autruy gouvernance 
			Me faut departir mon acueil 
			Sans espargnier joye ne dueil. 
			Et puis que loyal sui trouvee 
			Et je seray loyal prouvee, 
			Cuide chascun ce qu’il vouldra. 
			Car ou que bonté soit celee, 
			Touzdis le bon la trouvera.» 
			 
			LE BERGIER 
			«Belle, des bons n’avez vous doubte, 
			Car les bons dient bien et font, 
			Mais les nices ne voient goute 
			Quant ou cuidier sont bien parfont. 
			Par folie le bien deffont 
			Et prennent sur eulz voz samblances, 
			Vos regars, et vos contenances, 
			Et tout ce qui leur puet valoir, 
			Et apres en font leurs vantances 
			Et si n’en dient rien de voir.» 
			 
			LA BERGIERE 
			«Ilz peuent prendre par folie 
			En eulz mes regars et mes yeux, 
			Mais riens que je face ne dye 
			A mon propos n’est pas pour eulz. 
			Soient dolens, soient joyeux, 
			Il ne m’en chault, je n’en ay cure. 
			Franche sui, loyal, nette, et pure. 
			Je met les mesdisans au pis. 
			Les venteurs ont leur droiture, 
			Car les maistres en sont honnis.» 
			 
			LE BERGIER 
			«Je maintien d’Amours la parole, 
			Mais les fais sont maistres de moy. 
			Quant Loyaulté tendra escole, 
			Chascun estudie pour soy. 
			J’ay grant desir en bonne foy 
			De lire ou Livre de Joye, 
			Et plus volentiers le saroye 
			Par cuer pour mes mauls allegier. 
			Mais se par vous ne le luisoie, 
			Autre ne m’en porroit aidier.» 
			 
			LA BERGIERE 
			«Nul ne puet en ce livre lire 
			Si n’est souffrant et pacient. 
			Amours le fait de grace escripre 
			Invisible pour mainte gent 
			Qui y regardent tout leur temps 
			Et si n’y congnoistront ja lettre. 
			Car qui a lire se veult mettre, 
			Il n’y doit pas si cler veoir 
			Que vueille tout ce qui puet estre 
			Encontre lui appercevoir.» 
			 
			LE BERGIER 
			«Comme puet cuer loyal ce faire 
			Quant Amour gouverne ses sens, 
			Voir son mal et puis se taire 
			Et faindre qu’il soit bien contens? 
			Certes, selon ce que je sens, 
			Comme la mort la souffreroye 
			Malgre mien, quant mieulx ne porroye. 
			Mais la ou sens l’amour fauldroit, 
			De celui cuer je jugeroye 
			Que sans douleur le soufferroit.» 
			 
			LA BERGIERE 
			«Et puis que c’est dont la maniere 
			Que servant veulent chalongier, 
			Amour se doit tenir si fiere 
			Que tousdis soient en dangier 
			De requerir et de prier 
			Pitié, mercy, misericorde. 
			Quant Amours les tient en sa corde, 
			Faire son gré en puet et doit, 
			Car ce grace ne si accorde, 
			Sur lui n’ont chalenge ne droit.» 
			 
			LE BERGIER 
			«Chalengier ne sçay ne porroye. 
			Crier mercy est mon mestier. 
			Mais se trop fort ne vous amoye, 
			Mieulz saroye mon cuer aisier 
			Sans lui grever ne ennuier 
			Par rage ne par jalousie, 
			Par doubtance ne par envie. 
			Et qui tel chalonge querroit 
			La ou amour est refroidie, 
			Ja un tout seul n’en trouveroit.» 
			  | 
			
73. Granson’s Pastourelle 
			 
			A young, well-mannered shepherdess 
			And a simple, loyal shepherd 
			I once saw on a riverbank 
			Amusing themselves among the others. 
			Soon afterwards I heard the shepherd 
			Begin to make demands and complaints 
			With little joy, with many sorrows. 
			For in his outcry he proclaimed 
			And swore by the male and female saints 
			That Love tormented him too greatly. 
			 
			THE SHEPHERDESS 
			The shepherdess, charming and fair, 
			Who knew enough of every good, 
			Answered him: “Surely,” she said, 
			“You blame Love very wrongly. 
			Since you have been given to him 
			And placed entirely under his rule, 
			Your heart ought to take pleasure 
			In everything that is his wish, 
			And receive with satisfaction 
			Whatever good that you can have.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERD 
			“Fair one, if it pleased you to say,” 
			The shepherd said complainingly, 
			“What thing ought to satisfy me 
			And what is not sufficient, 
			I take the God of Love as warrant 
			That I would willingly be content. 
			But Love wishes me to be fearful 
			When I see that many desire 
			That which I would like to have for myself 
			And that I do not fully possess.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERDESS 
			“Well,” she said, “No one has the power 
			To prevent people from thinking. 
			Whether just to show their face 
			Or to laugh or to look, 
			No one can keep them from doing so. 
			But whoever trusts in Loyalty, 
			I believe that Love does not complain. 
			Rather is he pleased that one acts honorably, 
			Entertains, and keeps good company 
			In order to acquire a good name and earn grace.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERD 
			“Gracious heart, may it not displease you,” 
			The sorrowful shepherd said. 
			“Do you believe that my heart is at ease 
			When I am so deeply in love with you 
			And I can see one or two 
			Or five or ten or twenty or thirty, 
			And that each of them is trying his hardest 
			To get ahead of me in your regard? 
			Surely Love wishes me to feel 
			That which hurts me, and can help.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERDESS 
			“And when Love gives no thought to it 
			And has neither the intention nor the will, 
			Why is it then blamed 
			If fools act foolishly? 
			When Honor protects Loyalty,” 
			The wise shepherdess said, 
			“Love would have too hard a life 
			If youth did not amuse itself. 
			Wrong would be worth as much as right 
			If no one ever trusted in good.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERD 
			“Fair one, what you say is true, 
			That youth ought to amuse itself, 
			And that he who does not dare to trust 
			Must be excluded from all good./nobr> 
			But if you please, advise me 
			With whom youth ought to seek amusement 
			Except with Honor and Courtesy 
			And there where its games are well conducted. 
			For folly, presumption, and ignorance 
			Often give blame as the prize.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERDESS 
			“Then I would like very much to learn,” 
			She said, “and to get to know 
			By what means I should prevent myself 
			From keeping company with these people. 
			If a fool tells me his thoughts, 
			I have my response all ready 
			In front of all who are loyal and honest. 
			But since no one says anything, 
			One ought to frequent the party honorably 
			And allow one’s virtues to be shown.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERD 
			“Oh, if I dared to reply to you 
			According to what I feel and know, 
			Truly, fair one, I would say to you 
			That Loyalty conducts a test. 
			For whoever loves with a true noble heart, 
			It is necessary to show one’s manner 
			According to one’s heart, whether heavy or light, 
			And when Love reigns very strongly, 
			Fair Welcome holds itself so far back 
			That no presumption takes comfort there.”  
			 
			THE SHEPHERDESS 
			“If Fair Welcome didn’t come at all 
			Except in one place exclusively,” 
			The pretty shepherdess said, 
			“Everyone would see openly 
			Where the heart’s love was tending, 
			For which honor could have blame 
			And, contrary to reason, slander. 
			And if love is supposed to be hidden, 
			Then it is necessary for a woman 
			To see and speak to more than one.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERDnobr> 
			“I don’t say the opposite at all, 
			But such speech and such sight 
			Should neither comfort nor please 
			Any of those who do their best 
			To obtain your grace. 
			Since you know their innermost heart 
			From their speech or their messages, 
			If you don’t more strongly hold them off, 
			They truly believe that their words 
			Are pleasing to you, for which they’re happy.” 
			 
			THE SPHERDESS 
			“I often strongly abstain 
			From living just as I wish. 
			But under the governance of another 
			I am obliged to share my welcome 
			Without sparing joy or grief. 
			And since I am found to be loyal 
			And loyal will I be proven to be, 
			Let everyone think what he wishes, 
			For wherever goodness is hidden, 
			The good one will always find it out.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERD 
			“Fair one, have no fear of the good, 
			For the good say and do what is right, 
			But the foolish don’t see at all 
			When they are deep in presumption. 
			Out of folly they undo what is good, 
			And they believe intended for them, 
			Your appearance, your looks, and your expression, 
			And everything that can be of worth to them, 
			And afterwards they boast about them, 
			Though they don’t say anything that’s true.” 
			 
			THE SPHERDESS 
			“Out of folly, they can take 
			My looks and my eyes as their own, 
			But nothing that I do or say 
			Is meant for them in my intent. 
			Whether they are mournful or joyful, 
			It doesn’t matter, I don’t care. 
			I am free, loyal, clean, and pure. 
			I defy the slanderers. 
			Braggarts get what they deserve, 
			For the masters are ashamed of them.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERD 
			“I uphold the word of Love, 
			But the facts are my masters. 
			When Loyalty holds school, 
			Everyone studies for himself. 
			I greatly desire, in good faith, 
			To read from the Book of Joy, 
			And more willingly would I know it by heart 
			In order to relieve my pain, 
			But if I didn’t read it because of you, 
			No one else would be able to help me.” 
			 
			THE SPHERDESS 
			“No one can read from this book 
			If he isn’t resigned and patient. 
			Love in his goodness has it written 
			Invisibly for many people 
			Who look at it all the time 
			And never recognize a single letter. 
			For whoever sets himself to read, 
			He should not see so clearly there 
			That he might want to perceive 
			Everything that can be before him.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERD 
			“How can a loyal heart do this 
			When Love governs his feeling —  
			To see his pain and then be silent 
			And pretend that he is content? 
			Truly, based on what I feel, 
			I would suffer it like death 
			Despite myself, when I could do no better. 
			But there where sense is lacking love, 
			Of that heart I would judge 
			That it could bear it without sorrow.” 
			 
			THE SPHERDESS 
			“And since it is then the fashion 
			That servants wish to challenge him, 
			Love must conduct himself so proudly 
			That they are constantly compelled 
			To beseech and to pray 
			For pity, mercy, and compassion. 
			When Love holds them on his leash, 
			He can and should do as he wishes, 
			For if he doesn’t grant them grace, 
			They have no right or claim against him.” 
			 
			THE SHEPHERD 
			“I neither could nor know how to make a claim. 
			My need is to cry for mercy. 
			But if I didn’t love you so much, 
			I would know better how to ease my heart 
			Without irritating or angering him 
			With anger and with jealousy, 
			With fearfulness and with envy. 
			And whoever pursued such a claim, 
			There where love has cooled off, 
			He wouldn’t ever obtain a single one.” 
			  | 
			
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