sailing to old Pavia as Archpoet: an eternal truth about humanity

medieval galley sailing to Byzantium

This is no country for young men. The old in one another’s Facebook feeds, the girls — that sterile generation — twittering fake wage-gap claims to macking men in bars; this me-too-too’ing will turn to dust. Caught in such frenzied solitude all neglect monuments of unageing intellect.

The young man is but disparaged thing, an oppressor with a stick, unless minds work their reach and think, and bravely think, through every failing in their reasoning. There is no thinking school, but engaged minds open to their own magnificence. And therefore we shall sail as Archpoet to the sinning city of old Pavia.

Honored Archbishop, to you I do confess,
it’s a goodly death I die, self-murder by excess:
stricken to the heart by female loveliness,
those that I cannot touch, I mentally possess.

It’s a matter most difficult, to overcome our nature,
seeing some maiden fair, keeping our minds pure;
being young how can we obey so harsh a law,
for the body’s lightness no one has a cure.

Who in the fire’s depths feels not the flame?
Who detained in Pavia, lives there without blame,
where Venus, beckoning youths to the game,
seduces with her eyes, her quarry set to tame?

Put down Hippolytus in Pavia today,
there’d be no Hippolytus the succeeding day.
To love, beneath the sheets, leads every single way;
among all those towers, Truth hasn’t place to stay.

{ Praesul discretissime, veniam te precor,
morte bona morior, dulci nece necor,
meum pectus sauciat puellarum decor,
et quas tactu nequeo, saltem corde moechor.

Res est arduissima vincere naturam,
in aspectu virginis mentem esse puram;
iuvenes non possumus legem sequi duram
leviumque corporum non habere curam.

Quis in igne positus igne non uratur?
quis Papiae demorans castus habeatur,
ubi Venus digito iuvenes venatur,
oculis illaqueat, facie praedatur?

Si ponas Hippolytum hodie Papiae,
non erit Hippolytus in sequenti die.
Veneris in thalamos ducunt omnes viae,
non est in tot turribus turris Alethiae. }

Where can Truth abide? Medieval Latin lyrics explain fundamentals of the cosmos.

The gods drew out of the ancient mass the form of physical things, which mindfully unfolded and constructed the connected systems of the world. Nature had already preconceived what she would create.

Nature stirred into action the causal agencies of the world-structure. Thinking at length about our young woman, she adorned her more, provided her more honor, and bestowed her as a privilege and reward for labor.

In this young woman more than in all the rest of creation, Nature’s handiwork sparkles. She bestowed so many gifts of her favor on no other. This woman she exalted beyond the rest.

And Nature, who in her miserly way usually apportions one gift apiece to each young woman, eagerly expended beauty’s gifts on her more abundantly and unstintingly.

{ A globo veteri
cum rerum faciem
traxissent superi
mundi que seriem
prudens explicuit
et texuit
iam preconceperat,
quod fuerat

Que causas machine
mundane suscitans,
de nostra virgine
iam dudum cogitans
Plus hanc excoluit,
plus prebuit
dans privilegium
et pretium

In hac pre ceteris
totius operis
Nature lucet opera.
tot munera
nulli favoris contulit,
sed extulit
hanc ultra cetera.

Et, que puellulis
avara singulis
solet partiri singula:
huic sedula
impendit copiosius
et plenius
forme munuscula. }

That woman beckoning to the young man in old Pavia is more beautiful than any other woman, more beautiful than anything in the natural world. She is an extraordinary creation of Nature.

Graced with utmost loveliness by Nature’s ardor, her brow rivals the lily. It is white as snow and disfigured by no wrinkles. Her artless, darling eyes flash with the brilliance of stars.

She draws to herself lovers’ every glance, as she promises a remedy in the modest playfulness of her laughter. Twin arches separate her eyebrows.

From the boundary of her eye, in a judgment of restrained balance, the projection of her nose extends charmingly and with a certain restraint. It does not rise up unduly nor is it abnormally flat.

She entices with the sweet words and kisses of her gently swelling lips. The fragrance of nectar is infused into her rose-colored mouth. Her row of teeth sit evenly, white as ivory, matching the radiance of snow.

Her breast, chin, neck, and checks rival snow and glow gently, but to prevent them from fading into pallor with excessive whiteness, Nature rather cleverly tempers this brilliance in advance by marrying the rose with the lily, so that out of these two arises a more suitable and graceful combination.

{ Nature studio
longe venustata,
contendit lilio
rugis non crispata
frons nivea.
simplices siderea
luce micant ocelli.

Omnes amantium
trahit in se visus,
spondens remedium
verecunda risus
arcus supercilia
discriminant gemelli.

Ab utriusque luminis
moderati libraminis
naris eminentia
producitur venuste
quadam temperantia:
nec nimis erigitur
nec premitur

Allicit verbis dulcibus
et osculis,
castigate tumentibus
roseo nectareus
odor infusus ori.
pariter eburneus
sedet ordo dentium
par nivium

Certant nivi, micant lene
pectus, mentum, colla, gene;
sed, ne candore nimio
evanescant in pallorem,
precastigat hunc candorem
rosam maritans lilio
prudentior Natura,
ut ex his fiat aptior
et gratior
mixtura. }

This is a description of objective Truth. Every woman, variously colored and shaped, is that woman in the eyes of a man who loves her. So was Flora, a well-known woman of old Pavia.

She herself restored me to life!
It turned out happily, happened beyond the hope
of my miserable mind;
when she totally gave herself over
to the influence of Venus,
Venus in the heavens
burst out laughing
from her rejoicing star.

My longing is no little hindered
when my chest can scarcely contain the joy
that I feel,
when Flora revives me with
talk of Venus,
when I devour the honey as she entices
with the gift of her kiss.

I often recall moving freely
over her soft breast, and so to beings above
adding myself to their number.
I shall rule over all, blissful again
if I caress,
as I desire, her tender breast,
touching it freely.

{ Ipsa vivere mihi reddidit!
Cessit prospere, spe plus accidit
menti misere:
que dum temere totam tradidit
se sub Venere,
Venus ethere risus edidit
leto sidere.

Desiderio nimis officit,
dum vix gaudio pectus sufficit,
quod concipio
dum Venerio Flora reficit
me colloquio,
dum, quem haurio, favus allicit
dato basio.

Sepe refero cursum liberum
sinu teneto: sic me superum
addens numero.
Cunctis impero, felix iterum
si tetigero
quem desidero, sinum tenerum
tactu libero. }

What is past, or passing, or to come is life, continuing in a chain of being coupled. If sick humanity is not to die in global love cooling, we must never place ourselves outside of Nature. We must remain able to conceive as persons did in old Pavia.

replica of a medieval cog

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The above post is in part a parodic response to William Butler Yeats’s famous poem, “Sailing to Byzantium,” first published in 1928.

Medieval Pavia was associated with the pleasures of love. In his late-eleventh-century chronicle, Landulf Senior (Landulf of Milan) recited a learned saying: “Milan for clerics, Pavia for pleasures, Rome for buildings, Ravenna for churches {Mediolanum in clericis, Papia in deliciis, Roma in aedificiis, Ravenna in ecclesiis}.” From Historia Mediolanensis 3.1, cited in Morgan (2018).

The first quote is from a poem known as the Archpoet’s Confession, “Estuans intrinsecus ira vehementi {Deep inside me I’m ablaze with an angry passion},” st. 6-9, Latin text from Hase (nd) and English translation (modified slightly) by A. S. Kline. This poem has survived as Carmina Burana 191. Here’s A.Z. Foreman’s English translation, with notes.

The Archpoet probably spent considerable time in Pavia with his patron, Rainald of Dassel, Archchancellor of Italy. Pavia was a chief ally of the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa in a bitter fight over papal succession. The Archpoet apparently spent the winter of 1163 in Pavia. Godman (2011) pp. 34, 36. In an sophisticated occasional poem for the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, the Archpoet lavishly praised Pavia:

The first to obey its lord has been Pavia,
a good, a superlative city, famous, powerful, pious;
it would merit being praised in local detail,
were we not now taking a short cut.

{ Prima suo domino paruit Papia,
urbs bona, flos urbium, clara potens pia;
digna foret laudibus et topographia,
nisi quod nunc utimur brevitatis via. }

“Welcome, lord of the world {Salve mundi domine}!” Latin text and English translation from Godman (2011) p. 32. The Archpoet wrote this poem about 1163.

As Morgan points out, the Archpoet’s Confession builds in part on Ovid’s Amores 2.4:

I haven’t the strength or will to control myself;
I am swept away like a ship driven by fast-moving water.
There is no particular beauty that provokes my love:
I have a hundred reasons to be constantly in love!

Keep silent about me, who is enamored by anyone I touch;
put Hippolytus in my place and he’ll turn into Priapus!

{ nam desunt vires ad me mihi iusque regendum;
auferor ut rapida concita puppis aqua.
non est certa meos quae forma invitet amores—
centum sunt causae, cur ego semper amem.

ut taceam de me, qui causa tangor ab omni,
illic Hippolytum pone, Priapus erit! }

Amores 2.4.7-10, 31-2, Latin text and English translation (modified slightly) from Morgan (2018). Here’s the full Latin text and an English translation of Amores 2.4.

The second and third quotes are from “A globo veteri {An ancient mass},” st. 1a-5a, Latin text and English translation (modified slightly) from McDonough (2010) pp. 16-23. The poem’s last stanza is 5b, which is available here. That stanza identifies the described marvel of Nature as specifically the young woman Coronis. This poem has survived as Arundel Lyrics 4 and Carmina Burana 67. It’s plausibly attributed to Peter of Blois and dates to about 1170.

“A globo veteri” has a significant textual problem in the fourth line of its first stanza. The problem has been resolved in a greatly under-appreciated, glorious article of humanistic scholarship:

If we read mundi que, we are left with faciem as the improbable antecedent for que. If, on the other hand, we read mundique we place the perfect indicatives explicuit and texuit alongside the pluperfect subjunctive traxissent. Meyer sought a third solution by placing a colon after superi, reading mundi que, and taking Natura to be the postponed antecedent of que. Meyer’s text is open to the objections that the strong pause after superi is unnatural and that the postponement of the antecedent is very awkward in this sentence. Odd, too, is the sequence of tenses — perfect in the relative and then pluperfect in the main clause. Schumann reads mundique and continues his cum-clause to Natura. … The principal objection to Schumann’s text is that it makes the author of this elegant masterpiece guilty of extremely awkward Latin. The shift from the pluperfect subjunctive to the perfect indicative with the cum-clause is a glaring solecism. Moreover, with Natura relegated to the cum-clause, the main verb, preconceperat, is left without an obvious subject. Natura is by no means easily supplied from the cum-clause. The sentence printed by Schumann could come only from the pen of an ignorant and incompetent writer, whereas the learned allusions in the first stanza itself and the elegance and sophistication of the rest of the poem clearly characterize our poet as a man of refined education and unimpeachable Latinity.

Traill (1988) pp. 149-50. McDonough’s Latin text follows Traill’s prefered text, but McDonough’s translation seems to me not to reflect Traill’s insight with respect to the allusion to Bernard’s Cosmographia. I’ve attempted to follow Traill’s learning in the translation above. Traill more generally explains:

In an amusing conceit, he {the author of “A globo veteri”} suggests that Nature was thinking not about man {humanity} in general, but about his puella {young woman} in particular.

Id. p. 151. I broadly follow that insight above. “A globo veteri” is much more sophisticated than a conventional descriptio puellae. It is a poem written by a scholar for a scholarly audience. Id.

The final quote comprise “Ipsa vivere michi reddidit,” Latin text from the Latin Library, my English translation benefiting from that of McDonough (2010) pp. 15, 17. The Latin text of id. has the same words, but different lineation of the stanzas. This poem survives as Arundel Lyrics 3.

[images] (1) Galley carrying the body of John Chrysostom (died 407 GC) from Komana (Cappadocia) to Constantinople,the capital of Byzantium. Detail from an icon from Kimolos Island in the Aegean Sea. Source image thanks to Bogdan and Wikimedia Commons. (2) Hansekogge replica of the fourteenth-century Bremen cog. Source image thanks to VollwertBIT and Wikimedia Commons.


Godman, Peter. 2011. “The Archpoet and the Emperor.” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes. 74: 31-58.

Hase, Patrick, trans. nd. “Carminia Mediaevalia.” Online on liguae.

McDonough, Christopher J., ed. and trans. 2010. The Arundel lyrics; The poems of Hugh Primas. Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library 2. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.

Morgan, Llewelyn. 2018. “Hippolytus > Priapus.” Lugubelinus (online), Feb. 14.

Traill, David A. 1988. “Notes on ‘Dum Diane vitrea’ (CB 62) and ‘A globo veteri’ (CB 67).” Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch 23: 143-151.

sympathetically understanding why some men distrust all women

medieval wheel of fortune

Some men distrust all women. Not all men are like that, but some are. Calling those men nasty names like “misogynist” is childish and hard-hearted. One should try to understand sympathetically why those men became so distrustful of women. With respect to that issue, as for many others, medieval literature provides a vital tool for those seeking enlightenment.

Most men find themselves strongly attracted by nature to young, beautiful women. Love for women can put men in danger and cause men suffering. A twelfth-century lyric laments:

Love, common to all,
is sweet in its beginning.
What others might repress
now in me awakens.
I suffer many injuries,
openly and secretly,
so that I might rest sweetly,
welcomed in your little bed.
Oy, oy, oy.

Love, love, love,
wonderful it is.
You are the enemy to all,
so intolerable
that whomever you can strike
with your fiery dart
is subject, for sure,
to grave danger.
Oy, oy, oy.

{ Amor communis omnibus
dulcis inicio,
aliis repugnantibus,
hoc in me sentio,
qui multa mala suffero,
palam et clanculo,
ut quiescam dulce tuo
amice lectulo.
Oy, oy, oy.

Amor, amor, amor,
tu es hostis omnibus
quem tuo vales igneo
ferire spiculo
subiacebit utique
graui periculo.
Oy, oy, oy. } [1]

Another poet-author in the twelfth century described how love can lead free men into slavery:

Like the lily withers
in the autumn chill,
my body is cold on the outside,
yet I feel flames within.
Foolish through diligence,
I protest to the logicians
that I support
two contraries.

I gaze at her eyes,
the likeness of twin stars,
and the little blooms of her lips,
worthy of a god’s kisses.
I seem to transcend
the wealth of ancient kings
and yet I am mixed up once
and again.

May I submit myself by obligation
to the yoke of love.
Let some, rightly,
think it reproachful;
thus is my way of life.
Let me therefore be her slave.
Her looks provide wisdom
for me to act silly.

{ Autumnali frigore
marcescente lilio
foris algens corpore
flammas intus sentio.
Stultus ex industria
logicis obicio,
quod duo contraria

Dum contemplor oculos
instar duum syderum
et labelli flosculos
dignos ore superum,
transcendisse uideor
gazas regum ueterum,
dum semel commisceor
et iterum.

Amoris ex debito
me iugo subiciam,
licet quis, et merito,
reputet infamiam.
Moris est sic uivere.
Licet ergo seruiam,
uisus michi sapere
desipiam. } [2]

Men who believe in courtly love ideology defy logic and empirical science. Reality punishes those foolish men. They become despised slaves of women. Those men also, quite naturally, become bitter and frustrated. Men, don’t let that happen to you. Study marginalized medieval women’s love poetry to learn to seek love propitiously.

Bitter, frustrated men  sometimes express distrust of all women. Lacking enlightenment about loving women, Bernart de Ventadorn in twelfth-century Provence acted foolishly, suffered accordingly, and expressed himself poignantly:

Alas, I thought I’d grown so wise;
in love I had so much to learn:
I can’t control this heart that flies
to her who pays love no return.
Ay! Now she steals, through love’s sweet theft,
my heart, my self, my world entire;
she steals herself and I am left
only this longing and desire.

Losing control, I’ve lost all right
to rule my life; my life’s her prize
since first she showed me true delight
in those bright mirrors, her two eyes.
Ay! Once I’d caught myself inside
her glances, I’ve been drowned in sighs,
dying as fair Narcissus died
in streams that mirror captive skies.

Deep in despair, I’ll place no trust
in women through I did before;
I’ve been their champion so it’s just
that I renounce them evermore;
when none will lift me from my fall
when she has cast me down in shame,
now I distrust them, one and all,
I’ve learned too well they’re all the same.

{ Ai, las! tan cuidava saber
d’amor, e tan petit en sai!
car eu d’amar no·m posc tener
celeis don ja pro non aurai.
tout m’a mo cor, e tout m’a me,
e se mezeis e tot lo mon;
e can se·m tolc, no·m laisset re
mas dezirer e cor volon.

Anc non agui de me poder
ni no fui meus de l’or’ en sai
que·m laisset en sos olhs vezer
en un miralh que mout me plai.
Miralhs, pus me mirei en te,
m’an mort li sospir de preon,
c’aissi·m perdei com perdet se
lo bels Narcisus en la fon.

De las domnas me dezesper;
ja mais en lor no·m fiarai;
c’aissi com las solh chaptener,
enaissi las deschaptenrai.
pois vei c’una pro no m’en te
vas leis que·m destrui e·m cofon,
totas las dopt’ e las mescre,
car be sai c’atretals se son. } [3]

Bernart de Ventadorn’s difficulties apparently started with a serious case of one-itis for a woman who didn’t return his love. Instead of moving on, he led himself into lovesickness. Medieval literature suggests cures for lovesickness, but Bernart seems to have preferred to die. That’s folly. Men should value their lives highly, even as gynocentric society doesn’t.

Bernart implies that women around him didn’t reach out to him and offer him mercy. We must teach women to be more merciful to men, especially to disadvantaged and suffering men. Women must listen to these men, believe what they say, and seek to help them by any means necessary. For far too long men have been subject to structural sexual injustice. All women are complicit in that structural injustice. Too many men fear that their death is imminent. Men’s safety must be of primary importance to society. All must work for reconciliation and peace. To have a peaceful world, we must seek justice for men.

Despite yes, all women being complicit in injustices against men, men have been admirably reluctant to hate women. With keen appreciation for personal, emotional relationships between women and men, a medieval man analyzed the situation rationally:

Why love, if I’m not loved?
More fitting it is for love
to be turned into hate.
But away with that, that lovers
find their cure in hate,
that a relationship begun by joy
might end in divorce,
by the contrary of joy
being obtained.

To turn to hate
the firm law of love:
no, that’s not an advisable end.
If I end
love with hate,
if I support
vice with vice,
if by study
of sanity I go insane,
and not be healed,
I play the clown.

{ Cur amo, si non amor?
Satius est, ut amor
in odium vertatur.
Sed absit, quod amantium
remedium sit odium,
quod initum per gaudium
consorcium divorcium
per gaudii contrarium

In odium converti
nec ius amoris certi
nec finis est probandus.
Amorem enim odio
si finio, si vitio
per vitium subvenio,
desipio, si studio
sanitatis insanio
non sanandus. } [4]

Men’s rationality has been enormously beneficial to humanity, including greatly lowering maternal fatalities in childbirth. Toxic femininity, in contrast, turns love into hate. The social construction of femininity must be reconstructed to embrace men’s rationality about love. Instead of women-dominated elementary schools pathologizing boys, elementary schools should seek to develop loving masculine rationality in both girls and boys.

To regain the trust of men who now distrust all women, women should study medieval literature and learn from what men have written. Men’s voices haven’t been heard as distinctively gendered voices. Listening to men and understanding them are first steps to regaining men’s trust. Further steps include reducing the huge gender protrusion among persons incarcerated, repealing laws that deny men reproductive rights and encourage abortion coercion, eliminating gross anti-men sex discrimination in child custody and child support rulings, resolutely affirming that a man’s life has equal value to a woman’s life, and decriminalizing truly loving relationships. Until such social progress occurs, the fact that most men don’t distrust all women should be regarded as a wonderful testament to men’s love for women.

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[1] “Amor communis omnibus,” st. 1-2, Latin text from Stock (1971b) p. 34, my English translation benefiting from that of id. p. 35. This poem has survived only in the manucript Paris, BnF Ms. Lat. 11.130. The poem probably was written about 1125. Stock (1971a) pp. 351-2.

[2] Walter of Châtillon, “Autumnali frigore” (St. Omer 21), st. 1, 4-5 (of five stanzas), Latin text from Traill (2013) pp. 42-44, my English translation benefiting from those of id. and Stock (1971b) pp. 39-41.

[3] Bernart de Ventadorn, “Can vei la lauzeta mover {Now when I see the skylark lift},” st. 2-4, Occitan text and English translation (W.D. Snodgrass) from Kehew (2005) pp. 74-5. Here’s the full Occitan text of the song (another source). Arnaut Catalan and King Alfonso X of Castille parodied this song in their tenso “Senher abatyons conven quer {My lord, I come now to ask}.” See note [1] in my post on Arnaut Daniel’s protest.

In this poem, Bernart de Ventadorn further protested:

She acts as any woman would —
no wonder I’m dissatisfied.
She’ll never do the things she should;
she only wants all that’s denied.

{ D’aisso’s fa be femna parer
ma domna, per qu’e·lh o retrai,
car no vol so c’om deu voler,
e so c’om li deveda, fai. }

“Can vei la lauzeta mover,” st. 5.1-4, sourced as above, with insubstantial changes to Snodgrass’s translation. Medieval women’s love poetry teaches men how to deal with such difficulties.

Bernart’s poem today probably would be censored from major social media because it would be labeled misogynistic. It thus deserves special attention from those seeking not the approved views of the ruling despots, but enlightenment.

[4] Peter of Blois, “Invehar in Venerem,” Latin text from Stock (1971b) pp. 44, 46, my English translation benefiting from that of id. This song has survived with a musical score. On the music that accompanies Peter of Blois’s poetry, Thornton (2007). Steven Sametz’s choral symphony Carmina amoris (Songs of Love) includes an interpretation of his poem. Here’s the piece online.

[image] Wheel of Fortune, depicted as a woman. Illumination from fol. 1r of MS Bavarian State Library, Munich, Codex Buranus (Carmina Burana) Clm 4660. Thanks to the Bavarian State Library and Wikimedia Commons.


Stock, Brian. 1971a. “Amor communis omnibus: Paris, B.N., Lat. 11, 130.” Mediaeval Studies. 33: 351-353.

Stock, Brian, trans. 1971b. Medieval Latin Lyrics: Translated and introduced by Brian Stock, original woodcuts by Fritz Kredel. Boston: David Godine, Publisher.

Thornton, Lyndsey. 2007. Musical characteristics of the songs attributed to Peter of Blois (c. 1135-1211). Thesis, Master of Music. Florida State University.

Traill, David A., ed. and trans. 2013. Walter of Châtillon, the Shorter Poems: Christmas hymns, love lyrics, and moral-satirical verse. Oxford Medieval Texts.

not men’s property: medieval women chose whether & whom to marry

woman's fancy hat

Many persons, including scholars in anthropology and other academics fields, believe that women have been regarded as men’s property except recently in enlightened places. According to this mythic history, women passed between fathers and husbands as transactions in men’s interests. Women were merely men’s “chattels.”[1] Medieval women themselves ridiculed a much less extreme version of that view. The medieval Christian church doctrinally required a woman’s free consent for a valid marriage. Moreover, the thirteenth-century Old French epic Aymeri of Narbonne makes abundantly clear that women’s consent to marriage was vitally important.

Aymeri was a noble, highly respected knight. At the request of Emperor Charlemagne, Aymeri led taking the city of Narbonne from a strong Muslim force. Aymeri then became King of Narbonne. He ably defended Narbonne and surrounding areas from attacks and acquired wide renown. When his father Count Hernaut and his mother died, Aymeri, an only child, inherited their titles and all their wealth.

According to this thirteenth-century French epic, once Aymeri had acquired wealth and noble titles, “Now it was appropriate for him to have a wife {Or li covenist fame}.”[2] Men can lead worthwhile lives without marrying a woman. Moreover, men need only themselves, not wealth and prestige, to be a worthy husband. But all those around Aymeri, “the small and the great persons {li petit et li grant},” adhered to gender norms that oppress men. They all urged Aymeri to marry.

Aymeri sought for a wife a woman who was beautiful, wise, noble, and not close kin to him. One of his lords proposed Princess Hermenjart. She lived in Pavia, a place known in the Middle Ages for women generous in love to men. Princess Hermenjart reportedly had heard much pleasing to her about Aymeri. Aymeri in turn was pleased with what he heard of Hermenjart:

Golden is one so known, by God who doesn’t lie,
that if I don’t have her, I’ll create such a battle
that a thousand iron-clad men will die
for the love of this young woman!

{ Or en sai tant, par Deu qui ne menti,
Se ge ne l’ai, tel plet m’avez basti,
Dont il morront .m. home fervesti,
Por l’amor la pucele! }

While governments today dedicate billions to addressing violence against women, the entrenched gender injustice is quite the opposite: violence has always been overwhelmingly gender-structured as violence against men. Aymeri sent a force of sixty heavily armed knights, lords of his realm, to Pavia to convey his proposal of marriage to Hermenjart. With the confidence that makes a man attractive to a woman, he assumed that she desired to marry him. The anticipated obstacle was her brother King Boniface of Pavia and other nobles. If they didn’t allow Hermenjart to fulfill her desire to marry Aymeri, many men would engage in brutal battle and die.[3]

Aymeri’s envoy to Pavia frightened King Boniface. Moreover, the liberality of Aymeri’s lords to the people of Pavia made King Boniface look poor and miserly in comparison. To enhance his standing relative to Aymeri’s envoy, Boniface pretended that they had intended to take Hermenjart against her will. He then spoke wisely and patronizingly to them:

My lords, know one thing that is true:
very foolish and dreamy-headed is the man
who takes a wife against her will,
for that man won’t have a wife who loves him
or honors him or serves him well.
But so that in this none find blame in me,
I’ll go to the young woman, if you want.
If she accepts what you have said here,
then I’ll give her to you, freely and with love.

{ Mes une chose sachiez qu’est veritez,
Molt est li hom fox et musarz provez,
Qui fame prant outre ses volentez.
Ja se li hom n’est de sa fame amez,
N’en sera bien serviz ne annorez.
Mes ja, de ce ne quier estre blasmez,
la pucele irai, se vos volez.
Se ele ostroie ice que dit avez,
Donrai la vos, volentiers et de grez. }

Aymeri’s lords course agreed, for they had sought Hermenjart only according to her will. Just as in highly developed democracies today, all understand that the deciding factor is what women want.

While Hermenjart was from Pavia, renowned for generously loving women, she was ungenerous with her love. Many men with great wealth and high titles had courted her. She had spurned them all. Refusing to appreciate that men typically acquire great wealth and high status only when they are relatively old, Hermenjart disparaged her eminent suitors, particularly for being old men:

Spoleto’s ruler, with a large group of lords,
Othon the King, with a similar domain;
and Savaris, the white-haired,
the German lord, who must be a big fool —
because I’d like better to be buried alive
than to waste my love as such an old man’s wife.
And the Duke Ace, an official in Venice
for more than a year sought much and pleaded.
Similarly André, ruler of Hungary, sought me;
He’s a rich man, this I don’t deny —
ten cities are within his domain —
but he shall not have me as companion
because he is old and has a white beard,
his head is red and his flesh isn’t fruitful.
By that faith I owe Saint Mary,
I wouldn’t take him, though I should lose my life.
I’d like better to be burned upon a fire
than lie in bed with his withered belly!
So help me God who has all under his rule,
I’ll never have an old man.

{ Cil d’Apolice a molt grant baronnie,
Ce est rois Otes qui a tant a seignorie,
Et Savaris a la barbe florie,
Li Alemenz qui cuidoit grant folie,
Car mieuz vosisse estre vive enfoie,
Que tex viellarz eust ma druerie.
Et li dus Aces c’a Venice en baillie,
Plus a d’un an me requiert molt et prie.
Si me requiert rois Andreus de Hongrie;
Riches hom est, ce ne desdi ge mie;
.X. citez a dedanz sa seignorie,
Mes il n’avra ja a moi conpangnie,
Car il est vieuz, s’a la barbe florie,
Et si est rox et la char a bles mie.
Par cele foi que doi sainte Marie,
Ne le prendroie por a perdre la vie
Mieuz vodroie estre enz en .j. feu broie,
Que ja jeusse lez sa pance flestrie.
Si m’eist Dex qui tot a en baillie,
Je n’avrai ja viel home. }

The eleventh-century Latin epic Ruodlieb recognized that sexual symmetry in spouses’ ages isn’t necessary for a happy marriage. Hermenjart, in contrast, while valuing men for their wealth and status, was also hatefully ageist.[4] Like many highly privileged women, she wanted it all.

Aymeri was an extraordinary man: wealthy and with high titles, but also young. When Aymeri met Hermenjart, he assured her that she could continue to live her life of privilege far above even that of elite men:

I am Aymeri
who would be your lord and husband.
As soon as you have arrived in my hall,
more than two thousand prized knights
will serve your wish in any way at all.

{ ge sui Aymeris
Qui vostre sire doit estre et voz mariz.
S’or vos avoie menée en mon pais,
Plus de .ij. mile de chevaliers de pris
a Vos serviroient tot a vostre devis. }

Aymeri knew that Hermenjart loved him and desired to be his wife. Yet, like a well-instructed college boyfriend wanting to kiss his girlfriend, he sought her formal, verbal consent before engaging in any expression of affection:

“Beautiful lady,” he said, “what are you thinking?
What do you make of me, concealing from me nothing?
From far I’ve come seeking you, you know well;
If this request to you is such that you don’t want me,
then reveal your wish to me right here,
and beyond this you need say no more words,
because you know well, if you refuse me,
would one give me all the gold of ten cities,
I wouldn’t take you, if you don’t want to be my wife.

{ “Béle,” dist il, “quiex est vostre pansez?
Que vos resenble de moi, nel me celez?
De long vos vieng querre, bien le savez;
Por ce vos pri que, se ne me volez,
Que vo talant ici me descovrez,
Ainçois c’avant en soit plus moz sonez,
Car bien sachiez, se vos me refussez,
Qui me donroit tot l’or de .x. citez,
Ne vos prendroie, s’il ne vos ert a grez.” }

Hermenjart affirmed to Aymeri “I love you more than any man who has ever lived {plus vos aim que home qui soit nez}.” They then married and lived happily ever after, with Aymeri suffering terrible wounds in battles and many men being killed.

Over the past millennium in western Europe, women probably have had more choice in marriage than men have. Locality, social relations, and economic realities limited the pool of potential mates to a small number for both men and women. But men have historically faced the gender burden of bringing disproportionate economic resources to a heterosexual relation. Men unable to provide money, both in the past and in the present, have been regarded as “unmarriable.” That women have been men’s property is less historically accurate than that men have been women’s servants.

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[1] Margo Wilson and Martin Daly have long pushed that absurd claim with astonishing success. See, e.g. Wilson & Daly (1992). For some analysis, see my post on primatology and vegetarianism, particularly note [4].

[2] Bertrand de Bar-sur-Aube, Aymeri of Narbonne l. 1333, Old French text from Daimson (1887) v. 2, my English translation benefiting from that of Newth (2005). Newth’s translated this line as “A wife alone was lacking.” That translation subtly reverses the sense of the text to fit the gender myth of women as men’s property. In that misleading translation, Aymeri, who now has much land and material goods, lacks only a wife, analogous to another material good. What the text actually states is “Now it was appropriate for him to have a wife {Or li covenist fame}.” Material goods and social status function as prerequisites for men to marry. Women are not similarly constrained in their choice to marry.

Subsequent quotes are similarly from Aymeri of Narbonne (cited by line numbers in the Old French text): 1334, “the small and the great persons”; 1383-6, “Golden is one so known…”; 2392-40, “My lords, know one thing…”; 2462-81, “Spoleto’s ruler…”; 3287(2nd half)-91, “I am Aymeri…”; 3311-19, “Beautiful lady…”; 3323 (part), “I love you….” For translating from Old French, the online Anglo-Norman dictionary is helpful.

[3] Underscoring that men’s lives counted little relative to a woman’s life, the narrator commented about Aymeri’s envoy to Boniface:

If Boniface were not in his best senses,
and out of pride, or ill-advised, objected
to do their will in any way required,
his town at once would be so fiercely threatened
that fifty men, then fifty more would perish
for this fair maiden’s love.

{ Se Boniface n’a or le cuer sené,
Que par conseil ou par sa grant fierté
Ne veille fere riens de lor volenté,
Tost li movront tel plet en sa cité,
Dont .с. Lonbart seront a mort livré,
Por l’amor la pucele. }

Aymeri of Narbonne, ll. 1603 -08, Old French text from Daimson (1887) v. 2, English translation from Newth (2005).

[4] Even old men can be sexually vigorous. Consider Phileros’s eulogy for Chrysanthus:

how many years do you think he carried? Seventy and more. He was a horny old bird, carried his age well, hair as black as a crow. I had known him for ever and ever, and he was all the while lecherous. No, my god Hercules, I don’t think in his house he left even the dog unmolested. Yes, he was even a boy-chaser, a man of all the practical arts. I don’t blame him; his penis was all that he took with him in death.

{ quot putas illum annos secum tulisse? Septuaginta et supra. Sed corneolus fuit, aetatem bene ferebat, niger tanquam corvus. Noveram hominem olim oliorum et adhuc salax erat. Non mehercules illum puto in domo canem reliquisse. Immo etiam pullarius erat, omnis Minervae homo. Nec improbo, hoc solum enim secum tulit. }

Satyricon 43, Latin text from Heseltine & Rouse (1913), my English translation, benefiting from that of id. and Walsh (1996).

Newth applauds Hermenjart’s vicious ageism and her character more generally:

Her spirited speeches in criticism of her previous suitors’ unsuitability, her brother Boniface’s meanness and her Lombard countrymen’s cowardice, are the verbal highlights of the work, adding a human and often humorous depth to the heroic surface of the the tale … Hermenjart is possessed of an exotic beauty, an equal courage and moral strength to that of her French hero {Aymeri}, and a greater charisma and enterprise to muster men, in small or large supply, to her and her support.

Newth (2005) p. xxi-ii. Newth sees in Hermenjart qualities typically associated with a Saracen (Muslim) princess in French epic. Elite Muslim women under the caliphs were highly privileged and could dominate the caliph himself.

[image] Woman’s sailor hat from Grand Rapids, Michigan (USA) about 1890. Preserved as accession #M.83.231.69 in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Image thanks to Wikimedia Commons.


Demaison, Louis, ed. 1887. Aymeri de Narbonne: chanson de geste; texte, glossaire, et tables. Vol. 1, Vol. 2. Publications de la Société des Anciens Textes Français. Paris: F. Didot et cie.

Heseltine, Michael and W. H. D. Rouse, trans., revised by E. H. Warmington. 1913. Petronius Arbiter, Seneca. Satyricon. Apocolocyntosis. Loeb Classical Library 15. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Newth, Michael A, trans. 2005. Aymeri of Narbonne: a French epic romance. New York: Italica Press.

Walsh, Patrick G, trans. 1996. Petronius Arbiter. The Satyricon. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Wilson, Margo and Martin Daly. 1992. “The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Chattel.” Ch. 7, pp. 289-322, in J.H. Barkow, L. Cosmides, J. Tooby, eds. The Adapted Mind: Evolutionary psychology and the generation of culture. Oxford University Press. New York.

respect men’s real fears: dangers of gyno-idolatry

Byzantine Greek fire, a naval weapon

In twelfth-century France, a young man was hunting with his dogs in April. While men are commonly regarded as dogs, men themselves typically distinguish between persons and dogs. Most men have no interest in becoming romantically involved with a female dog, a bitch. Yet a young man hunting with his dogs in April might be stirred with love:

In April time, when the wood is decked green
and the field with rosy flowers is dressed,
tender youth is inflamed with love.

Inflamed with love is tender youth,
all the little birds sing out together
and the wild blackbird calls sweetly.

{ Aprilis tempore, quo nemus frondibus
et pratum roseis ornatur floribus,
iuuentus tenera feruet amoribus.

Feruet amoribus iuuentus tenera,
pie cum concinit omnis auicula,
et cantat dulciter siluestris merula. } [1]

Sunsets and feeling lonely tend to prompt men to yearn for love. This young man had never before loved a woman. His heart felt pain:

Coming back from the hunt at that time of year,
with the sun going down to set in the west,
I started to call for my wandering dogs.

Looking around I could not find them,
which gave me no small sadness
so I did not stop seeking them.

{ Venatu rediens eodem tempore,
sol cum descenderat uergente cardine,
errantes catulos cepi requirere.

Quos circumspeciens nusquam reperio,
unde non modicum sed satis doleo;
non cessans igitur perditos querito. }

A young, beautiful, warmly receptive woman is far more attractive to most men than is a dog, or even a group of dogs that he might have together.

The mischievous man-child Cupid and his award-winning mother Venus assailed the young man. Cupid, leaning on his bow and looking as sexy as Apollo, said:

To stop worrying is my advice to you now.
It is not right to hunt at times like this;
rather we must play at love.

Perhaps you do not know of Cupid’s games?
It would be a great shame if such a fine youth
didn’t frequently play in the court of Venus.

If you should once play in her game of love,
for nothing else would you ever give it up,
but forever faithfully serve her in your soul.

{ Dimittas moneo laborem itaque;
non est conueniens hoc tali tempore
venari; potius debemus ludere.

Ignoras forsitan ludos Cupidinis,
sed ualde dedecet, si talis iuuenis
non ludit sepius in aula Veneris.

Si semel luseris in eius curia,
non eam deseres ulla penuria,
illi sed seruies mente continua. } [2]

The young man thought of love. He was shaken, scared, and taken:

Hearing his words, I was shaken to the core;
as if in great fear I fell to the ground,
and so a new flame burst out inside me.

{ Ad cuius monitus totus contremui,
uelut exterritus ad terram cecidi;
sic nouis ignibus statim incalui. }

The young man hunting with his dogs in April was hunted and snared in thought. In springtime, nature is beautiful, fecund, undeniably real, and influential.[3]

De ramis cadunt folia: manuscript

Men have good reason to fear the fire of their love. Men understand that spring is only a season, and that winter will come:

The leaves fall from the branches,
for all that is green has died,
warmth now has left all
and departed,
for the last of the Zodiac signs
the sun has reached.

{ De ramis cadunt folia,
nam viror totus periit;
iam calor liquit omnia
et abiit
nam signa caeli ultima
sol petiit. } [4]

Margery Kempe’s husband understood what that stanza means. Yet for generation after generation, despite gynocentric oppression, men have been on fire in love for women:

Now all that is, freezes,
but I alone am hot;
or rather it’s my heart
that burns.
This fire is a girl
for whom I languish.

My fire is nourished by the kiss
and soft touch of the girl.
In her eyes shines
the light of lights.
None across the whole age
is more divine.

Greek fire is extinguished
with wine turned bitter,
but this fire is never extinguished
for the saddest lover.
Rather, it’s sustained by fuel
most fruitful.

{ Modo frigescit quicquid est,
sed solus ego caleo;
immo sic mihi cordi est
quod ardeo;
hic ignis tamen virgo est,
qua langueo.

Nutritur ignis osculo
et leni tactu virginis
in suo lucet oculo
lux luminis,
nec est in toto saeculo
plus numinis.

Ignis graecus extinguitur
cum vino iam acerrimo,
sed iste non extinguitur
immo fomento alitur
uberrimo. }

Men’s fundamental sin is gyno-idolatry. Lucretius, the great dispeller of delusions, described the problem clearly in ancient Rome. Christians in medieval Europe understood Lucretius. Consider the man-narrator’s claim: “In her eyes shines / the light of lights. None across the whole age / is more divine.” In Christian understanding, Jesus is the King of Kings and the light of the world.[5] Regarding a human woman, one not even the mother of Jesus, as more divine than Jesus is blasphemy.

The final stanza makes an obscure comparison to Greek fire. Greek fire literally means an incendiary weapon that the Byzantine navy used. In this poetic context, Greek fire alludes to sexual passion, particularly sexual passion associated with eating and drinking at Greco-Roman symposia. At his last supper with his disciplines, Jesus poured wine and told his disciples to take that, his blood, and drink of it. Thirsting in the passion of his crucifixion for humanity’s sins, Jesus was given only sour wine to drink.[6] With understanding of the passion of Christ, Christian disciples were expected to leave behind the sexual passions of Greco-Roman symposia. But not all Christians substantially did so. The saddest lover is the Christian so enthralled in gyno-idolatry that his delusions continually fuel the fire of his love.

The medieval Christian poet was willing to describe gyno-idolatry explicitly. Gyno-idolatry was understood as a fundamental danger for men:

As in kindling
fire burns ardently
when it is introduced,
so my mind
for you, goddess,
is inflamed and burns up.

Say, who is so hard,
who is so pure,
devoid of all sin,
and capable of such being,
that none of your gifts
could seduce him?

Long live Cato,
to whom God gave
such rigidity,
but by your flower
he would be held, burning
in love.

{ Ut in lignis
ardet ignis,
siccis cum subducitur,
sic mens mea
pro te, dea,
fervet et comburitur.

Dic, quis durus,
quis tam purus,
carens omni crimine,
esse potest,
quem non dotes
tuae possint flectere?

Vivat Cato,
Dei dato,
qui sic fuit rigidus:
in amore
tuo flore
captus erit fervidus. } [7]

In the relatively liberal and tolerant circumstances of medieval Europe, a beautiful, young woman’s gifts could be described without fear of censorship, virtual stone-throwing, or attack by an angry, ignorant mob. Thus the poet-narrator declared:

Venus would have wished
your locks
to be her own,
if she had seen them,
and she would have mourned
because they excelled her own.

Your face and throat
are without wrinkles,
and your angelic visage
indicates to humans
that you are heavenly,
not earthly.

Your teeth
shine, seated
within your beautiful lips,
which if ever
I might touch,
give honeyed kisses.

And your
beautifully small,
not swelling,
gleam white,
whiter than snow.

What about the hands,
a belly so flat,
and a graceful figure —
you are so formed,
so adorned —
could one be better fashioned?

Your legs radiate sleekly —
but why say more?
The goddesses
of heaven
and earth
you surpass
in beauty and lineage.

{ Fore suum
crinem tuum
Venus ipsa cuperet,
si videret;
et doloret
suum quod exuperet.

Frons et gula
sine ruga
et visus angelicus
te caelestem,
non terrestrem,
denotant hominibus.

Tibi dentes
sunt candentes,
pulcre sedent labia,
que si quando
ore tango
mellea dant suavia.

Et tuarum
forma satis parvula
non tumescit,
sed albescit,
nive magis candida.

Quid quod manus,
venter planus
et statura gracilis
te sic formant
et cohornant
quod nimis es habilis?

Nitent crura.
Sed quid plura?
deas pulchritudine
et caelestes
et terrestres
superas et genere. }

So the man makes his beloved woman into a goddess, or rather, he imagines her to be better than a goddess. With respect to a beautiful woman, gyno-idolatry among men is completely understandable:

And therefore,
blessed girl,
no one should be surprised
if my mind
for you, goddess,
has been wounded by Venus.

{ Et idcirco,
pia virgo,
nulli sit mirabile,
si mens mea
pro te, dea,
lesa sit a Venere. }

If men are to lose their chains and become liberated, they must recognize their primary weakness. Men must reject gyno-idolatry and embrace women as equal human beings.

Meninism is the simple idea that men are equal to women as human beings. If you’re not a meninist, you’re a bigot. Unfortunately, most men aren’t meninists. Much work remains to be done to achieve social justice for men.

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[1] Carmina Rivipullensia 1, titled “Quomodo primum amavit {How he has loved for the first time},” first line “Aprilis tempore, quo nemus frondibus {In April time, when the wood is decked green},” st. 1-2, Latin text and English translation from Preater (2015). This poem is probably from the twelfth century and survives only in MS Ripoll 74. On that manuscript, see note [1] in my post on the medieval joy of sex.

The subsequent three quotes above are similarly sourced (with a few minor changes in translation) from “Aprilis tempore, quo nemus frondibus”: st. 4-5 (Coming back from the hunt…), 8-10 (To stop worrying…), 11 (Hearing his words…). For the translation of line 8.3, Dronke (1979) p. 21. The poem has 11 stanzas in total. For a Latin text and French translation, Wolff (2001) pp. 20-3.

[2] Thiébaux perceives Cupid’s “insinuating, gently bullying mockery” of the young man; the poem displays “light malice in treating this relation between the lover and the god.” That is the style of Ovid’s Ars Amatoria. Thiébaux (1974) p. 101. Id., pp. 101-2, provides a slightly inaccurate translation of the poem.

In st. 8, the original reading in the third line was Veneri {of Venus} rather than venari:

The manuscript originally read “Veneri”, but it is corrected to “venari” in the same hand as the original.

Raby (1957) v. 2, p. 238. See also Dronke (1979) pp. 20-1.

[3] Another medieval Latin poem tells of a man unsuccessfully hunting with his dogs. When he blew his horn to recall his dogs, a king’s daughter was stirred with love:

At this sound a noble maiden
trembled all over, about to enter her father’s land.
That young man, discerning, hastened towards her.
He saw and spoke with her, felt his lips kissing hers.
Then he and the king’s daughter, considering the matter,
traversed the utmost boundary of love.

{ Ad cuius sonitum erilis filia
Tota contremuit itura patria,
Quam cernens iuvenis adiit properans:
Vidit et loquitur, sensit os osculans:
Et sibi consulens et regis filie
Extremum Veneris concessit linee. }

“Surgens Manerius summo diluculo {Arising in the early dawn, Manerius},” ll. 13-8 (the last three couplets of the poem), Latin text from Raby (1933), my English translation, benefiting from that of Thiébaux (1974). The poem, commonly called Manerius, dates from before 1168. It survives in cod. Vat. Christ. No. 344, fol. 38, where it’s entitled “De quodam iuvene {About a certain young man}.” Raby (1933) p. 205. A man raising his horn and blowing vigorously displays his potency. If a man cannot be chaste, he should at least be careful.

[4] “De ramis cadunt folia” st. 1, Latin text from Dronke (1965) v. 1, p. 288, my English translation, benefiting from those of id. and Hase (nd). The subsequent quote above is similarly sourced. It covers st. 4-6, the last three stanzas of the poem.

This twelfth-century poem is relatively well-known for a Latin lyric. Raby (1959) n. 234, p. 353, and Brittain (1962) provide Latin texts, with the latter including an English translation. A Latin reading blog provides a Latin text with learning notes and Helen Waddell’s English translation. This poem survives, with musical notation, only in the conductus-manuscripts of Saint-Martial, BnF (Paris) lat. 3719 fol. 42r-v. Dronke (1965) v. 1, p. 288. Here’s a modern sung adaptation from the album Les Chants Funestes by O Quam Tristis.

[5] Calling Jesus the King of Kings {βασιλεὺς τῶν βασιλευόντων}: 1 Timothy 6:15, Revelation 17:14, 91:16; Jesus as light of the world {φώς τοῦ κόσμου}: John 8:12, 9:5.

[6] Jesus giving wine to his disciples: Matthew 26:27-9, Mark 14:23-5, Luke 22:17-8; soldiers giving sour wine to Jesus on the cross: Matthew 27:34, Mark 15:36, Luke 23:36, John 19:29. The Latin reading blog notes:

Greek fire was a weapon used by the Byzantines against ships. It is of unknown composition. The statement by the poet that this fire can be extinguished by vinegar (vinum acrum) is of course nonsense.

That note seems to me to miss the poetic point.

[7] Carmina Rivipullensia 3, titled “In praise of his girlfriend {Laudes amicae},” first line “Sidus clarum {Bright star},” st. 4-6, Latin text from Wolff (2001) (but retaining medieval Latin spellings), my English translation benefiting from Wolff’s French translation and the English translation of Hase (nd). The subsequent two quotes are similarly sourced from st. 7-12 (Venus would have wished…) and 13 (And therefore…). This song has a total of 14 stanzas. On the question form of verse 11, Dronke (1979) p. 22. Dronke interprets that stanza as implying the woman’s inexpressible beauty.

[images] (1) Byzantine Greek fire being used against the enemy ship of Thomas the Slav. From the Codex Skylitzes Matritensis, Bibliteca Nacional de Madrid, Vitr. 26-2, Bild-Nr. 77, folio 34v. Thanks to Wikimedia Commons. (2) Manuscript text, including musical notation, from the beginning of “De ramis cadunt folia.” Folio 42r in Miscellanea of manuscripts from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Preserved as Bibliothèque nationale de France. Département des manuscrits. Latin 3719.


Brittain, Frederick. 1962. The Penguin Book of Latin Verse; with plain prose translations of each poem. Baltimore: Penguin Books.

Dronke, Peter. 1965. Medieval Latin and the Rise of European Love-Lyric. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Dronke, Peter. 1979. “The Interpretation of the Ripoll Love-Songs.” Romance Philology. 33 (1): 14-42.

Hase, Patrick, trans. nd. “Carminia Mediaevalia.” Online on liguae.

Preater, Jason. 2015. “Cancionero de Ripoll- In April Time.” Online (June 27, 2015) at Writing Finger.

Raby, Frederic J. E. 1933. “Surgens Manerius Summo Diluculo… .” Speculum. 8 (2): 204-208.

Raby, Frederic J. E. 1957. A History of Secular Latin poetry in the Middle Ages. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Raby, Frederic J. E. 1959. The Oxford Book of Medieval Latin Verse. Oxford: Clarendon.

Thiébaux, Marcelle. 1974. The Stag of Love; the chase in medieval literature. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Wolff, Etienne. 2001. Le Chansonnier amoureux: Carmina Rivipullensia. Monaco: Rocher.