From Encylopaedia Britannica:
“tenson. (Old Provencal: ‘dispute’ or ‘quarrel’) also called tenso or tenzon, a lyric poem of dispute or personal abuse composed by Provencal troubadours in which two opponents speak alternate stanzas, lines, or groups of lines usually identical in structure. In some cases these debates were imaginary, and both sides of the issue were composed by the same person. The tenson was a specific form of debate, a kind of medieval poetic contest. The form later spread to Italy, where it became popular among the poets of the dolce stil nuovo, including Dante. Compare partimen.”
Searching into this sent me on a fascinating journey back to The Classics and to people I’d never heard of or forgotten about. I chose the following as an example, Cercamon and Guilhalmi from the 12th century.
Cercamon
« Car vei finir a tot dia
[L'amor], lo joy e·l deport,
E no·m socor la clerzia,
Non puesc mudar no·m cofort
Co fay, can conois sa mort,
Lo signes, que bray e cria
E·n mou son sonet per fort,
Que·l cove fenir sa via,
E plus no·i a de conort. »
– « Maïstre, si Dieus me valha,
Ben dizetz so que cove;
Mas ja d'aisso no vos calha
Car li clerc no vos fan be;
Car lo bos temps ve, so cre,
Que auretz aital guazalha
Que vos dara palafre
O renda que mais vos valha,
Car lo coms de Peitieus ve. »
– « Guilhalmi, non pretz mealha
So que·m dizes, per ma fe;
Mais volria una calha
Estreg tener en mon se
No faria un polhe
Qu'estes en autrui sarralha,
C'atendes la lor merce:
Car soven, so cug, badalha
Qui s'aten a l'autrui be. »
– « Maïstre, gran benanansa
Podetz aver si softretz. »
– « Guilhalmi, vostra vanansa
Non crei, si com vos dizetz. »
– « Maistre, car no·m crezetz?
Gran be vos venra de Fransa
Si atendre lo voletz. »
– « Guilhalmi, tal esperansa
Vos don Dieus com vos m'ufretz. »
– « Maïstre, n'ajatz coratge
D'efan ni d'ome leugier. »
– « Guilhalmi, sobre bon guatge
Vos creyria volontier. »
– « Maïstre, man bon destrier
An li ome de paratge
Per sufertar al derrier. »
– « Guilhalmi, fort e salvatge
............................... »
– « Maïstre, josca la brosta
Vos pareisa·l teit novel. »
– « Guilhalmi, ben pauc vos costa
Lo mieus ostals del castel. »
– « Maïstre, conte novel
Aurem nos a Pantacosta
Que·us pagara ben e bel. »
– « Guilhalmi, fols qui·eus escota:
Vos pagatz d'autrui borcel. «
– Since I see, every day, love,
joy and pleasure end,
and the clergy doesn't help me,
I don't know where to turn, aside from comforting myself
as does, when it knows of its death,
the swan, who laments and cries
and forcefully emits sounds
when it's time for its life to end
and it doesn't have hope anymore.
– Mentor, may god help me,
you certainly say fitting things;
still, let it not bother you
that the clergy doesn't do you any good;
for a favourable time comes, I believe,
in which you'll have an associate such
as will give you a steed
or an income worth even more to you,
for the count of Poitiers is coming.
– Guilhalmi, I don't care a thread
for what you say, by my troth;
I'd rather have a quail
held tightly in my breast
than an entire aviary
which someone else keeps locked
while I wait for mercy:
for often, I find, one yawns
while waiting for someone else's goods.
– Mentor, you can have a great
good, if you are patient.
– Guilhalmi, I don't believe
the vain words you say.
– Mentor, why don't you believe me?
A great good will come to you from France,
if you care to wait for it.
– Guilhalmi, may god give you
a hope such as the one you offer me.
– Mentor, don't have the heart
of a child or of a fickle man.
– Guilhalmi, with a good pawn
I would gladly believe you.
– Mentor, prominent men
have many a good steed
for being patient to the end
– Guilhalmi, strong and wild
...............................
– Mentor, near the foliage
may your new roof appear
– Guilhalmi, hosting me in the castle
costs you very little.
– Mentor, at Lent
we'll have a new count
who will pay you nice and good.
– Guilhalmi, he's fool who listens to you:
you pay out of other people's purse.
Looking for something modern, I found this short quarrelsome poem by D/H. Lawrence. I like his wit. It made me laugh.
Intimates
Don’t you care for my love? She said bitterly.
I handed her the mirror, and said:
Please address these questions to the proper person!
Please make all requests to head-quarters!
In all matters of emotional importance
Please approach the supreme authority direct!-
So I handed her the mirror.
And she would have broken it over my head,
But she caught sight of her own reflection
And that held her spellbound for two seconds
While I fled.
D.H.Lawrence (1885-1930)
Now then, shall I return to Dante et al, or is my brain scrambled enough for now? I think I’ve found another world that I’ve previously encountered very briefly.
Thanks for reading, Pam x
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