I Must Sing of That by La Contessa Beatritz de Dia

I must sing of that which I would rather not,
so bitter I am towards him who is my love:
for I love him more than anyone;
my kindness and courtesy make no impression on him,
nor my beauty, my virtue or my intelligence;
so I am deceived and betrayed,
as I should be if I were unattractive

One thing consoles me: that I have never wronged you,
my love, by my behaviour towards you;
indeed I love you more than Sequin loved Valensa;
and I am glad that my love is greater than yours,
my love, since you are the more worthy;
you are haughty towards me in your words and your demeanour,
yet you are friendly to everybody else.

I am amazed how deceitful you have grown,
my love, towards me, which gives me
good reason to grieve;
it is right that another love should
take you away from me
whatever she may say to attract you
remember how our love began
God forbid
that I should be to blame for our
parting

That great prowess which you have
and your fine reputation worry me,
for I know no woman, near or far,
who would not turn to you, if she
were inclined to love;
but you, my love, are discerning enough
to know who loves you most truly:
and remember the agreement we made.

My reputation and my noble birth should sway you,
and my beauty and above all my
faithful heart;
therefore I send to you where you dwell
this song to be my messenger;
I want to know, my noble love,
why you are so haughty and
disdainful towards me;
I do not know whether it is pride or malice

But most of all I want you to tell him,
messenger,
that excess of pride has been
the downfall of many.