“The Troubadours” by Alexander Robertson
From Last Poems of Alexander Robertson, 1918
In such castles, set on high,
In the ages long gone by,
Troubadours would live and die.
They would see such deep serene
Skies and such a wondrous green
Of the spring in their demesne.
They would know the Midland sea
Rouse the soul to ecstasy,
Shining there so radiantly.
So they loved both life and love
And the challenge of the glove
And the art all arts above.
Not as priests they sang, about
Tourneys gay and foemen stout,
Love and Beauty, Death and Doubt.
Haply lived as men who see
Nought in life of stern decree,
Yet they sang delectably.
Held that Beauty over all
Sacred is, that Honour’s call
Must be heard though a man may fall.
Came the rude Crusaders’ shock,
Each died on his castled rock,—
Warriors brave of Languedoc.
Written in hospital in Provence.