Тибо Шампанский - Seigneurs, sachiez - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

The author of the song is Thibaut de Champagne, Thibaut IV le Chansonnier (1201-1253), Count of Champagne and Brie, from 1234. King of Navarre, French poet, trouvere. Contemporaries called him "Prince of Trouvères." His pastourels, love songs, etc. were widely known in France and other European countries. Manuscripts of over 500 texts and over 400 melodies have been preserved. A list of Thibaut Champagne's songs is given in the book by J. Renaud (Raynauds G., "Bibliographic des altfranzosischen Liedes", T. 1, Leiden, 1955).

In 1239, Pope Gregory IX proclaims a new crusade to the Holy Land. Thibault was one of the leaders of the campaign. He probably composed this song during his preparation in order to attract people.

Original text (taken from the collection "Chansonnier Historique Medieval – Semper Imas"):

Seigneurs, sachiez: qui or ne s'en ira

En cele terre ou Deus fu morz et vis

Et qui la croiz d'Outremer ne prendra,

A paines mès ira en Paradis.

Qui a en soi pitié ne remenbrance,

Au haut Seigneur doit querre sa venjance

Et delivrer sa terre et son pais.

Tuit li mauvès demorront par deça,

Qui n'aiment Dieu, bien ne honor ne pris;

Et chascuns dit: “Ma fame, que fera?

Je ne leroie a nul fuer mes amis.”

Cil sont cheoit en trop fole atendance,

Q'il n'est amis fors que cil, sanz dotance,

Qui pour nos fu en la vraie croiz mis.

Or s'en iront cil vaillant bachelor

Qui aiment Dieu et l'eneur de cest mont,

Qui sagement vuelent a Dieu aler,

Et li morveus, li cendreus demoront;

Avugle sont, de ce ne dout je mie.

Qui un secors ne fet Dieu en sa vie,

Et por si pou pert la gloire du mont.

Deus se lessa por nos en croiz pener

Et nos dira au jor ou tuit vendront:

"Vous qui ma croiz m'aidastes a porter,

Vos en iroiz la ou mi angre sont;

La me verroiz et ma mere Marie.

Et vos par qui je n'oi onques aďe

Descendroiz tuit en Enfer le parfont.”

Chascuns cuide demorer touz hetiez

Et que jamès ne doie mal avoir;

Ensi les tient Anemis et pechiez

Que il n'ont sens, hardement ne pouoir.

Biaus sire Deus, ostez leur tel pensee

Et nos metez en la vostre contree

Si saintement que vos puissons veoir!

Douce dame, roine coronee,

Proiez por nos, virge bien auree!

Et puis apres ne nos puet mescheoir

SONG OF THE CRUSADE

Be merciful, Lord, to my destiny.

I will move my army against Your enemies.

Look: I raise my sword in holy struggle.

I will leave all joys for You, -

I will listen to your call to the trumpet.

Strengthen your strength, O Christ, in your servant.

He serves a reliable master,

Who serves You by faith and righteousness.

I'm leaving the ladies. But, holding the sword,

I am proud to serve the holy temple,

That faith in the God of strength is fresh in the soul,

Prayerfully flying after the incense.

Faith is more precious than gold: not a rust,

Neither fire eats it; who, dear

Only with her, she goes into battle, she will not accept shame

And he will face death rejoicing, without trembling.

Lady! The cover of the surroundings,

Give me help! I go into battle, serving you.

Because I'm losing a lady on earth,

Heavenly Lady will help.

(this is either another poem by Thibaut Champagne, or a very loose translation...)