Aucassin and Nicolete [3]
could praise aright Her name, that should be glorified. Those lovers now, whom foes divide A little weep,--and soon forget. How far from these faint lovers glide The fair white feet of Nicolete.
ENVOY.
My Princess, doff thy frozen pride, Nor scorn to pay Love's golden debt, Through his dim woodland take for guide The fair white feet of Nicolete.
GRAHAM R. TOMSON
THE SONG-STORY OF AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE
'Tis of Aucassin and Nicolete.
Who would list to the good lay Gladness of the captive grey? 'Tis how two young lovers met, Aucassin and Nicolete, Of the pains the lover bore And the sorrows he outwore, For the goodness and the grace, Of his love, so fair of face.
Sweet the song, the story sweet, There is no man hearkens it, No man living 'neath the sun, So outwearied, so foredone, Sick and woful, worn and sad, But is healed, but is glad 'Tis so sweet.
So say they, speak they, tell they the Tale:
How the Count Bougars de Valence made war on Count Garin de Biaucaire, war so great, and so marvellous, and so mortal that never a day dawned but alway he was there, by the gates and walls, and barriers of the town with a hundred knights, and ten thousand men at arms, horsemen and footmen: so burned he the Count's land, and spoiled his country, and slew his men. Now the Count Garin de Biaucaire was old and frail, and his good days were gone over. No heir had he, neither son nor daughter, save one young man only; such an one as I shall tell you. Aucassin was the name of the damoiseau: fair was he, goodly, and great, and featly fashioned of his body, and limbs. His hair was yellow, in little curls, his eyes blue and laughing, his face beautiful and shapely, his nose high and well set, and so richly seen was he in all things good, that in him was none evil at all. But so suddenly overtaken was he of Love, who is a great master, that he would not, of his will, be dubbed knight, nor take arms, nor follow tourneys, nor do whatsoever him beseemed. Therefore his father and mother said to him;
"Son, go take thine arms, mount thy horse, and hold thy land, and help thy men, for if they see thee among them, more stoutly will they keep in battle their lives, and lands, and thine, and mine."
"Father," said Aucassin, "I marvel that you will be speaking. Never may God give me aught of my desire if I be made knight, or mount my horse, or face stour and battle wherein knights smite and are smitten again, unless thou give me Nicolete, my true love, that I love so well."
"Son," said the father, "this may not be. Let Nicolete go, a slave girl she is, out of a strange land, and the captain of this town bought her of the Saracens, and carried her hither, and hath reared her and let christen the maid, and took her for his daughter in God, and one day will find a young man for her, to win her bread honourably. Herein hast thou naught to make or mend, but if a wife thou wilt have, I will give thee the daughter of a King, or a Count. There is no man so rich in France, but if thou desire his daughter, thou shalt have her."
"Faith! my father," said Aucassin, "tell me where is the place so high in all the world, that Nicolete, my sweet lady and love, would not grace it well? If she were Empress of Constantinople or of Germany, or Queen of France or England, it were little enough for her; so gentle is she and courteous, and debonaire, and compact of all good qualities."
Here singeth one:
Aucassin was of Biaucaire Of a goodly castle there, But from Nicolete the fair None might win his heart away Though his father, many a day, And his mother said him nay, "Ha! fond child, what wouldest thou? Nicolete is glad enow! Was from Carthage cast away, Paynims sold her on a day! Wouldst thou win a lady fair Choose a maid of high degree Such an one is meet for thee." "Nay of these I have no care, Nicolete is debonaire, Her body sweet and the face of her Take my heart as in a snare, Loyal love is but her share That is so sweet."
Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:
When the Count Garin
ENVOY.
My Princess, doff thy frozen pride, Nor scorn to pay Love's golden debt, Through his dim woodland take for guide The fair white feet of Nicolete.
GRAHAM R. TOMSON
THE SONG-STORY OF AUCASSIN AND NICOLETE
'Tis of Aucassin and Nicolete.
Who would list to the good lay Gladness of the captive grey? 'Tis how two young lovers met, Aucassin and Nicolete, Of the pains the lover bore And the sorrows he outwore, For the goodness and the grace, Of his love, so fair of face.
Sweet the song, the story sweet, There is no man hearkens it, No man living 'neath the sun, So outwearied, so foredone, Sick and woful, worn and sad, But is healed, but is glad 'Tis so sweet.
So say they, speak they, tell they the Tale:
How the Count Bougars de Valence made war on Count Garin de Biaucaire, war so great, and so marvellous, and so mortal that never a day dawned but alway he was there, by the gates and walls, and barriers of the town with a hundred knights, and ten thousand men at arms, horsemen and footmen: so burned he the Count's land, and spoiled his country, and slew his men. Now the Count Garin de Biaucaire was old and frail, and his good days were gone over. No heir had he, neither son nor daughter, save one young man only; such an one as I shall tell you. Aucassin was the name of the damoiseau: fair was he, goodly, and great, and featly fashioned of his body, and limbs. His hair was yellow, in little curls, his eyes blue and laughing, his face beautiful and shapely, his nose high and well set, and so richly seen was he in all things good, that in him was none evil at all. But so suddenly overtaken was he of Love, who is a great master, that he would not, of his will, be dubbed knight, nor take arms, nor follow tourneys, nor do whatsoever him beseemed. Therefore his father and mother said to him;
"Son, go take thine arms, mount thy horse, and hold thy land, and help thy men, for if they see thee among them, more stoutly will they keep in battle their lives, and lands, and thine, and mine."
"Father," said Aucassin, "I marvel that you will be speaking. Never may God give me aught of my desire if I be made knight, or mount my horse, or face stour and battle wherein knights smite and are smitten again, unless thou give me Nicolete, my true love, that I love so well."
"Son," said the father, "this may not be. Let Nicolete go, a slave girl she is, out of a strange land, and the captain of this town bought her of the Saracens, and carried her hither, and hath reared her and let christen the maid, and took her for his daughter in God, and one day will find a young man for her, to win her bread honourably. Herein hast thou naught to make or mend, but if a wife thou wilt have, I will give thee the daughter of a King, or a Count. There is no man so rich in France, but if thou desire his daughter, thou shalt have her."
"Faith! my father," said Aucassin, "tell me where is the place so high in all the world, that Nicolete, my sweet lady and love, would not grace it well? If she were Empress of Constantinople or of Germany, or Queen of France or England, it were little enough for her; so gentle is she and courteous, and debonaire, and compact of all good qualities."
Here singeth one:
Aucassin was of Biaucaire Of a goodly castle there, But from Nicolete the fair None might win his heart away Though his father, many a day, And his mother said him nay, "Ha! fond child, what wouldest thou? Nicolete is glad enow! Was from Carthage cast away, Paynims sold her on a day! Wouldst thou win a lady fair Choose a maid of high degree Such an one is meet for thee." "Nay of these I have no care, Nicolete is debonaire, Her body sweet and the face of her Take my heart as in a snare, Loyal love is but her share That is so sweet."
Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:
When the Count Garin