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Video: Four times older than the USA! Listen to the original Crusaders’ Song


Seigneurs, sachiez qui or ne s’en ira. Crusade chant by René Zosso with the Clemencic Consort. Original song by Thibaut de Champagne (1201-1253) count of Champagne, king of Navarre.

1239, the Pope Grégoire IX issues a call to arms in order to free the Holy Land from the Muslim invaders. Thibaut leads this crusade and write this song to convince people to follow him.

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Lyrics translation :

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Milords, those who will not travel
To this land where God lived and died
And will not take the holy cross
May not go to heaven

Who has no pity and remembrance,
Shall to the High Lord seek his vengeance,
To free his land and country

Bad people will stay behind,
They do not love God, honour his name and pray him
Everybody has in mind ” What will do my wife?”
Do not leave her with somebody whoever he is
It would be silly
There are no friends, whithout any doubts,
Except the one who was crucified,

And, courageous squires will go
They love God and honor him with this Hill,
They will slightly go to God
And people that deserve to be scorn will stay,
Blind are -do not doubt of this –
Those who do not help God, at least once during their life
And for such ridiculous things, lost such glory

Mary, crowned queen,
Pray for us, Mary,
Then, nothing can stop us


Original lyrics, editor Robert-Léon Wagner. (Droz, 2000)

Seignor, sachiés : qui or ne s’en ira
en cele terre ou Dex fu mors et vis,
et qui la crois d’Outremer ne penra,
a paines mais ira en Paradis.
Qui a en soi pitié ne ramembrance
au haut Seignor doit querre sa venjance
et delivrer sa terre et son païs.

Tuit li mauvés demorront par deça
qui n’aiment Dieu, bien, ne honor, ne pris.
Et chascuns dit ” Ma feme, que fera ?
Je ne lairoie a nul fuer mes amis”.
Cil sont cheoit en trop fole atendance,
qu’il n’est amis fors de cil, sans doutance,
qui por nos fu en la vraie crois mis.

Or s’en iront cil vaillant bacheler
qui aiment Dieu et l’ennor de cest mont,
qui sagement vuelent a Dieu aler,
et li morveux, li cendreux, demorront;
avugle sont, de ce ne dout je mie,
qui j secors ne fait Dieu en sa vie,
et por si pou pert la gloire dou mont.

Diex se lessa en crois por nos pener
et nos dira au jor que tuit vendront :
“Vos qui ma crois m’aidastes a porter,
vos en irez la ou mi angles sont;
la me verrez et ma mere Marie.
Et vos, par cui je n’oi onques aie,
descendrés tuit en Enfer le parfont.”

Chacuns cuide demorer toz haitiez
et que ja mes ne doie mal avoir;
ainsi les tient anemis et pechiez
que il n’ont sen, hardement ne pooir.
Biax sire Diex, ostés leur tel pensee
et nos metez en la vostre contree
si saintement que vos puissons veoir.

Douce dame, roïne coronee,
proiez por nos, Virge bien aüree !
Et puis aprés ne nos puet meschoir.

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