Neither of the titles by which this poem is known – Le borjois Borjon and Li Dis Raoul Hosdaing – is authorial. The former was the title given by its nineteenth-century editor, Thomas Wright, taking a phrase from the poem’s closing lines; the latter is an insertion in the Nottingham manuscript by a thirteenth-century hand (not the scribe’s). I have adopted and translated Wright’s title for the enjoyment of Raoul’s alliteration and pun. A ‘borjon’ (the modern ‘bourgeon’) is a bud, but what is budding (and burgeoning) in the bourgeois, says Raoul, does not bear healthy fruit. The play on words is especially relevant in the context of the reference to Spring in the first line of the Nottingham text.

The texts of the two surviving manuscripts differ markedly in places, and both have particularly good passages; for ease of reading, both versions are translated here.

The Bern text

(Bern Burgerbibliothek MS 354)

There was a time when, for telling fine, entertaining tales, minstrels attained high honour and esteem, and had gowns and furs and horses and all the spending-money they could wish. But the fact is that valour, prowess, courtesy, wit, largesse, honour were more respected then than they are these days. Largesse is a dead duck: you won’t find it in clerics, knights, ladies, damsels – they’re not interested in hearing any new stuff! You won’t find any who’re willing to give, to reward those who devote their time and effort to composing fine verse and entertaining tales!

And because giving’s in decline, so are minstrels – who once gave so much joy, showing their skill in regaling their hosts with delightful words in the hope and expectation of reward.

So hush, and listen – let me tell you this: honour is ebbing and shame’s on the rise. No one who makes his living as a wordsmith, by giving diversion, comfort, pleasure, fun and anything else, will find a courteous response these days. It’s plain to many that Honour and Shame have swapped places. And because that’s the way it’s going, a wicked spirit is rising up to confront and confound Honour; Malice waxes and Honour wanes, Prowess is dying and Shame thrives, Treachery dances and Cunning laughs, Charity wails and Compassion weeps, Joy is cast down and Sorrow prevails; sweet is sour and sour is sweet.