Page:Book of Were-wolves.djvu/85

64 of his passion drove him over the country, howling like a wolf, and demeaning himself more like an irrational beast than a rational man.

He commemorates his lupine madness in the poem A tal Donna:—

Crowned with immortal joys I mount

The proudest emperors above,

For I am honoured with the love

Of the fair daughter of a count.

A lace from Na Raymbauda's hand

I value more than all the land

Of Richard, with his Poïctou,

His rich Touraine and famed Anjou.

When loup-garou the rabble call me,

When vagrant shepherds hoot,

Pursue, and buffet me to boot,

It doth not for a moment gall me;

I seek not palaces or halls,

Or refuge when the winter falls;

Exposed to winds and frosts at night,

My soul is ravished with delight.

Me claims my she-wolf (Loba) so divine:

And justly she that claim prefers,

For, by my troth, my life is hers

More than another's, more than mine.

Job Fincelius relates the sad story of a farmer of Pavia, who, as a wolf, fell upon many men in the open country and tore them to pieces. After much trouble