I. Grave is the cause for which it befalls me to declare and relate in song the greatest tragedy and the greatest grief – alas! – which I have ever experienced, and for which I must forever lament in weeping: the one who was the pinnacle and origin of all worth, the noble and valiant Richard, king of the English, is dead. Ah God! what a loss and how damaging this is, what a terrible, cruel word to hear! Hard indeed is the heart of any man who can bear it.

II. Dead is the King, and a thousand years have passed since there was any man so valorous, and no-one saw such a man, nor ever will there be his like, so generous, so brave, so bold, so open-handed. I do not believe that Alexander, the king who vanquished Darius, gave or spent so much, or that Charlemagne or Arthur had such great merit, because if truth be told, he made everyone in the world either fear or love him.

III. I marvel at how a wise and courtly man can remain in this false and faithless world, since fine speech and praiseworthy deeds have no value in it. And so why should one make the slightest effort? Death has now shown us what it can do: at a single blow it has taken the best in the world, all honour, all joys, all good things. But since we can see that nothing can protect against it, everyone should certainly fear less to die.

IV. Ah Lord, valiant King, what will henceforth become of deeds of arms and tough tightly-packed tourneys and sumptuous courts and fine gifts, splendid and abundant, now that you who were their leader are not here with them? And what will become of those abandoned to ill-treatment, those who had placed themselves in your service and who were waiting for the reward to come? And what will become of those who ought to kill themselves, whom you had brought to great power?

V. Abiding sorrow and a wretched life will be theirs, and perpetual grief, because such is their fate. But Saracens, Turks, pagans and Persians, who used to fear you more than any man of woman born, will so grow in arrogance in all their actions that it will be even later before the Sepulchre is reconquered. But God wishes it, for had He not wished it and you, Lord, were alive, they would infallibly have been made to flee from the Holy Land.

VI. Henceforth I have no hope that a king or prince who would be capable of recovering it will go there. But all those who will be in your place must pay attention to how you were a lover of merit and what your two valiant brothers were like: the Young King and the courtly Count Geoffrey; and whoever remains in place of the three of you ought certainly to have a pure heart and firm intention to begin and complete all excellent deeds.

T. Ah Lord King! May God who is the true pardoner, true life, true man, true compassion, grant you that pardon which is most needful, so that He forgets your sinfulness and failings and remembers the way in which you were able to serve Him.