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49. Balade: «Je n’ay riens fait qu’Amours ne m’ait fait faire» Ay my! quel mal, quel ennuy, quel doleur, Quel grant meschief, quel soussy ne quel pene, Seuffre et fera dosreenavant mon cuer Pour vous que j’ay, sans pensee villainne, Plus amé que autre chose mondainne, Et loiaument servie main et soir Selon mon sens. Et se par non savoir J’ay fait pourquoy vous pensez le contraire, Ce me poise, mais, pour vous dire le voir, Je n’ay riens fait qu’Amours ne m’ait fait faire. Vous me blasmez que j’ay fait grant longueur D’aler vers vous, et m’estiez cy prouchainne, Mais se me fist Amours, que la rigueur Des mesdisans, qui ont trop grant alainne, Craingnoie trop fort. Sy ay bien dure estrainne, Quant pour si pou je me voy decevoir, Et a autrui lez doulz biens recevoir C’om m’a tolus, dont je ne me puis taire. Car puis le temps que ma dame en fut hoir, Je n’ay riens fait qu’Amours ne m’ait fait faire. Qu’en puis je mais, se je me plains et plour Que j’ay ainsy sans achoison certainne Perdus lez biens, le plaisir, la doulssour Que je cuidoye avoir comme demainne? Or estez vous de bien grant durté plainne Qui me laissez pour autre amy avoir Et jurez que voz beaulx yeux veoir Ne pourroient riens sans moy qui vous puet plaire. Et sy n’est pas pour moy, qu’a mon pouoir, Je n’ay riens fait qu’Amours ne me fait faire.

49. Ballade: “I have done nothing that Love didn’t make me do” Alas! What hurt, what trouble, and what sorrow, What great hardship, what care, and what pain My heart endures, and will from now on For you, whom I, without base thought, Have loved more than anything else in this world And loyally served, both morning and evening, As best I knew how. And if unknowingly I have done anything for which you think the opposite, This troubles me, but to tell the truth, I have done nothing that Love didn’t make me do. You blame me that it took me a long time To come to you, and you were close nearby, But Love made me do this, for I feared too greatly The harshness of slanderers, who draw too deep a breath. Thus I have quite hard luck When for so little I see myself deceived, And I see another receive the sweet rewards That were taken from me, on which I cannot be silent, For since the time that my lady was their heir, I have done nothing that Love didn’t make me do. What more can I do, if I complain and weep That I have thus, without any real reason, Lost the rewards, the pleasure, and the sweetness That I believed to have as my own? But you are full of great harshness, Who abandon me to take another lover And swear that your fair eyes could not see Anything other than me that can please you. And yet it is not my doing, for within my power, I have done nothing that Love doesn’t make me do.

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