Without true love there is on earth no peace,
     Love gives us wisdom, faith which will not swerve,
     A noble mind and willingness to serve. 
     How rare a thing on earth in perfect ease! 
     To Thee, oh Virgin!  Mother of all love,
     I dedicate this song; if thou deniest
     Me not, thou shall be my “sweet bliss.”  With Christ
     I pray Thee, intercede for me above.

In this song, then, he calls Mary “his sweet bliss” (bel deport), a name which he had previously given to a certain countess with whom he had been in love.  In the next poem, in which earthly love and love of the Madonna are again brought into juxta-position, he commends himself “to the Virgin, the sublime mother of love, on whom all my happiness depends.”  One of his poems which begins in quite an earthly strain, ends thus: 

     I feel no jealousy; for he whose soul
     Is filled with yearning for his heavenly love,
     Has purest happiness; he is her serf,
     And he has all things that his heart can crave.

But long before this, in one of his very worldly poems there is a sudden outburst, addressed to the Madonna:  “He who does not serve the Mother of God, knows not the meaning of love.”  Excellent proof of this intimate connection between earthly and Madonna love is found in the poems of the trouvere Ruteboeuf, who calls Mary his “very sweet lady.”

Lanfranc Cigala wrote genuine love-songs to the Virgin.  The following are two stanzas from one of his poems: 

     I worship a celestial maid,
     Serene and wondrously adorned;
     And all she does is well; arrayed
     In noble love and gentleness. 
     Her smile is bliss to all who mourn,
     Her tender love is happiness,
     And for her kiss the world I scorn. 
     Lady of Heaven, Thy heart incline
     To me, and untold bliss is mine. 
     By day and night my only thought
     Art, Mary, Thou.  I am distraught
     Say many men, for few can gauge
     The ardour which consumes my soul. 
     I care not that they say bereft
     I am of sense; the world I’ve left,
     To worship Thee, love’s spring and goal.

But other poems written by Cigala are unmistakably addressed to the celestial Madonna; some of them seem to be written in a penitential mood; he almost seems to repent of his former passionate adoration.  The same poet, in his love-songs, uses all the metaphors which are commonly used for Mary (or for Christ), “root and climax, flower, fruit and seed of all goodness.”

A little older is an erotic hymn to Mary by Peire Guillem of Luserna; I quote a few stanzas: 

     Thy praise is happiness unmarred,
     For he who praises Thee, proclaims the truth,
     Thou art the flower of beauty, love and ruth,
     Full of compassion, with all grace bedight,
     From Thy white hands we gather all delight.