Aucassin and Nicolette translated from the Old French

'TIS OF AUCASSIN AND OF NICOLETTE

Who would list a pleasant lay, Pastime of the old and grey? Of two lovers, children yet, Aucassin and Nicolette; Of the sorrows he went through, Of the great things he did do, All for his bright favoured may. Sweet the song is, fair the say, Full of art and full of grace. There is none in such ill case, Sad with sorrow, waste with care, Sick with sadness, if he hear, But shall in the hearing be Whole again and glad with glee, So sweet the story.

Here they speak and tell the story.

How Bulgarius Count of Valence made war upon Warren Count of Beaucaire. And this war was so great, so marvellous, and so mortal, that not a day dawned but there he was before the city, at the gates, at the walls, at the fences, with knights a hundred and men-at-arms ten thousand on foot and on horse; and he burned his land, laid waste his country, and slew his liegemen. Warren, Count of Beaucaire, was an old man and feeble, who had overlived his term. He had none to succeed him, neither son nor daughter, save one only boy; and what he was like, I will tell you. Aucassin was the young lord's name, and a pretty lad he was. He had golden hair in little curls, and laughing blue eyes, a face fair of colour and fine of curve, and a proud shapely nose. Aye, so endued was he with good conditions that there was none bad in him, but good only. But so overcome was he of Love, who masters all, that he refused knighthood, abjured arms, shunned the tourney, and left undone all his devoir.

His father and his mother would say to him: "Son! come, take thine arms and to horse! Fight for thy land and succour thy liegemen! If they see thee in the midst of them, they will fight the better for their lives and their havings and for thy land and mine!"

"Father," said Aucassin, "to what purpose is this oration? Never God give me ought that I ask of Him, if I take knighthood or mount horse, if I face fight or battlefield to smite knight or be myself smitten, if you give me not Nicolette, my sweet friend whom I love so well!"

"My son," said his father, "it cannot be. Have done with Nicolette! She is a slave-girl, carried captive from a foreign land. The Viscount of this place bought her of the heathen, and brought her here. He held her at the font, and christened her, and stood godfather to her. Some day he will give her a young fellow to win bread for her in wedlock. What is this to you? If you want a wife, I will give you a king's daughter or a count's. There is never so rich a man in France but you shall have his daughter, if you want her."

"Alack, father!" said Aucassin. "Where now is honour on earth so high, which Nicolette my sweet friend would not grace if it were hers? Were she Empress of Constantinople or of Germany, were she Queen of France or of England, there were but little in it, so noble is she and gracious and debonair and endued with all good conditions."

Here they sing.

Aucassin was of Beaucaire; His was the fine castle there; But on slender Nicolette Past man's moving is he set, Whom his father doth refuse; Menace did his mother use:

"Out upon thee, foolish boy! Nicolette is but a toy, Castaway from Carthagen, Bought a slave of heathen men. If for marrying thou be, Take a wife of high degree!"

"Mother, I will none but her. Hath she not the gentle air, Grace of limb, and beauty bright? I am snared in her delight. If I love her 'tis but meet, So passing sweet!"

Here they speak and tell the story.

When Warren Count of Beaucaire perceived that Aucassin his son was not to be moved from his love of Nicolette, he betook him to the Viscount of the place, who was his liegeman; and addressed him thus:

"Sir Viscount, come, rid me of Nicolette your god-daughter! A curse on the land whence ever she was fetched to this country! Now Aucassin is lost to me, and all because of her. He refuses knighthood and leaves undone all his devoir. Rest assured that if I can get hold of her I will burn her in a fire; and for yourself too you may fear the worst."

"Sir," said the Viscount, "'tis grief to me that he go to her, or come to her, or speak to her. I had bought her with my poor pieces. I had held her at the font, and christened her, and stood god-father to her; and I would have given her a young fellow to win bread for her in wedlock. What is this to Aucassin your son? But seeing your will is so and your good pleasure, I will send her to such a land and to such a country that he shall never set eyes on her more."

"See you do so!" said Count Warren. "Else it might go ill with you."

Thus they parted. Now the Viscount was a very rich man, and had a fine palace with a garden before it. He had Nicolette put in a room there, on an upper storey, with an old woman for company; and he had bread put there, and meat and wine and all they needed. Then he had the door locked, so that there was no way to get in or out. Only there was a window of no great size which looked on the garden and gave them a little fresh air.

Here they sing.

Nicolette is prisoner, In a vaulted bed-chamber, Strange of pattern and design, Richly painted, rarely fine. At the window-sill of stone Leaned the maiden sad and lone. Yellow was her shining hair, And her eyebrow pencilled rare, Face fine-curved and colour fair: Never saw you lovelier. Gazed she o'er the garden-ground, Saw the opening roses round, Heard the birds sing merrily; Then she made her orphan cry:

"Woe's me! what a wretch am I! Caged and captive, why, ah why? Aucassin, young lord, prithee, Your sweetheart, am I not she? Ay, methinks you hate not me. For your sake I'm prisoner, In this vaulted bed-chamber, Where my life's a weary one. But by God, sweet Mary's son, Long herein I will not stay, Can I find way!"

Here they speak and tell the story.

Nicolette was in prison, as you have harkened and heard, in the chamber. The cry and the noise ran through all the land and through all the country that Nicolette was lost. There are some say she is fled abroad out of the land. Other some that Warren, Count of Beaucaire, has had her done to death. Rejoice who might, Aucassin was not well pleased. But he went straightway to the Viscount of the place, and thus addressed him:

"Sir Viscount, what have you done with Nicolette, my very sweet friend, the thing that I love best in all the world? Have you stolen and taken her from me? Rest assured that if I die of this thing, my blood will be required of you; and very justly, when you have gone and killed me with your two hands. For you have stolen from me the thing that I love best in all the world."

"Fair sir," said the Viscount, "now let be! Nicolette is a slave-girl whom I fetched from a foreign land and bought for money of the heathen. I held her at the font, and christened her and stood godfather to her, and have brought her up. One of these days I would have given her a young fellow to win bread for her in wedlock. What is this to you? Take you some king's daughter or some count's. Moreover, what were you profited, think you, had you made her your concubine, or taken her to live with you? Mighty little had you got by that, seeing that your soul would be in Hell for ever and ever, for to Paradise you would never win!"

"Paradise? What have I to do there? I seek not to win Paradise, so I have Nicolette my sweet friend whom I love so well. For none go to Paradise but I'll tell you who. Your old priests and your old cripples, and the halt and maimed, who are down on their knees day and night, before altars and in old crypts; these also that wear mangy old cloaks, or go in rags and tatters, shivering and shoeless and showing their sores, and who die of hunger and want and cold and misery. Such are they who go to Paradise; and what have I to do with them? Hell is the place for me. For to Hell go the fine churchmen, and the fine knights, killed in the tourney or in some grand war, the brave soldiers and the gallant gentlemen. With them will I go. There go also the fair gracious ladies who have lovers two or three beside their lord. There go the gold and the silver, the sables and ermines. There go the harpers and the minstrels and the kings of the earth. With them will I go, so I have Nicolette my most sweet friend with me."

"I' faith," said the Viscount, "'tis but vain to speak of it; you will see her no more. Aye, were you to get speech of her and it came to your father's ears, he would burn both her and me in a fire; and for yourself too you might fear the worst."

"This is sore news to me," said Aucassin. And he departed from the Viscount, sorrowful.

Here they sing.

Aucassin has turned once more In wanhope and sorrow sore For his love-friend bright of face. None can help his evil case, None a word of counsel say. To the palace went his way; Step by step he climbed the stair; Entered in a chamber there. Then he 'gan to weep alone, And most dismally to groan, And his lady to bemoan.

"Nicolette, ah, gracious air! Coming, going, ever fair! In thy talk and in thy toying, In thy jest and in thy joying, In thy kissing, in thy coying. I am sore distressed for thee. Such a woe has come on me That I trow not to win free, Sweet sister friend!"

Here they speak and tell the story.

At the same time that Aucassin was in the chamber, bemoaning Nicolette his friend, Bulgarius Count of Valence, who had his war to maintain, forgat it not; but he had summoned his men, foot and horse, and advanced to assault the castle. And the cry went up and the noise; and the knights and men-at-arms girt on their armour, and hastened to the gates and walls to defend the castle; while the townsfolk mounted the parapets and hurled bolts and sharpened stakes. At the time when the assault was fast and furious, Warren Count of Beaucaire came into the chamber where Aucassin was weeping and bemoaning Nicolette his most sweet friend whom he loved so well.

"Ah, my son!" said he. "Wretch that thou art and unhappy, to see assault made on this thy castle--none better nor more strong! Know, moreover, that if thou lose it thou losest thine inheritance! Come now, my son, take thine arms and to horse! Fight for thy land, and succour thy liegemen, and get thee to the field! Though thou strike never a man nor be thyself stricken, if they but see thee among them they will make a better fight for their lives and their havings, and for thy land and mine. So tall art thou and so strong, 'tis no great thing to do; and it is thy devoir."

"Father," said Aucassin, "to what purpose is this oration? Never God give me ought that I ask of him, if I take knighthood or mount horse or go to the fighting to smite knight or be myself smitten, if you give me not Nicolette, my sweet friend, whom I love so well!"

"Son," said his father, "that cannot be. Rather would I suffer loss of all my inheritance, aye, of all I have, than that thou shouldst have her to woman or to wife!"

And he turned to go. And when Aucassin saw him departing, he called him back.

"Father," said Aucassin, "come hither, and I will make a fair covenant with you!"

"Aye, and what covenant, fair son?"