THE POINT OF HONOR

"O, rage, despair o ...", "This obscure clarity falling from the stars" "To me, Earl, two words" ... These speeches, the students of my generation (that of the late 60s) the have learned annonées, hated rows and then to the rank of accessories indigestible. Rightly, wrongly. Written in a stunning French (versification in Alexandrian requires bending the sentences in a rigid frame while giving them the expected term ... nice style exercise which shows that language is a tool shaped by our brain for purposes other than mere verbalization), Rodrigue Le Cid puts before an insoluble dilemma: the point of honor. Without honor, sense of honor. No point of honor, no reason to live. No reason to live (fame, aristocratic virtue par excellence, that of warriors, knights, knights), no purpose.
Weighs the love in the light of such a requirement? That is the question.
This very large text responds in a lyrical outburst, where sumptuous classical verse is honored to fair value.