| I. |
| Who will listen yet again To the old and jovial strain,— The old tale of love that's always new? She's a girl that's fair as May; He's a boy as fresh as day; And the story is as gay as it is true. |
II. |
| Who will hear the pretty tale Of my thrush and nightingale,— Of the dangers and the sorrows that they met? How he fought without a fear, For his charming little dear,— Aucassin and his loving Nicolette? |
III. |
| For, my lords, I tell you true That you never saw or knew, Man or woman so ugly or so gray, Who would not all day long, Sit and listen to the song And the story that I tell you here to-day. |
Now you must know, my lords and my ladies, that the Count Bougars de Valence chose to make war with the Count Garin de Beaucaire. And the war was so cruel, that the count never let one day go by, but that he came thundering at the walls and barriers of the town, with a hundred knights, and with ten thousand men-at-arms, on foot and on horseback, who burned all the houses, and stole all the sheep, and killed all the people that they could.
Now the Count Garin de Beaucaire was very old, and was sadly broken with years. He had used his time very ill, had the Count de Beaucaire. And the old wretch had no heir, either son or daughter, except one boy, whose name was
AUCASSIN.
Aucassin was gentle and handsome. He was tall and well made. His legs were good, and his feet were good; his body was good, and his arms were good. His hair was blonde, a little curly. His eyes were like gray fur, for they were near silver, and near blue, and they laughed when you looked at them. His nose was high and well placed. His face was clear and winning. Yes, and he had everything charming, and nothing bad about him. But this young man was so wholly conquered by love (who conquers everybody), that he would not occupy himself in any other thing. He would not be a knight; he would not take arms; he would not go to the tourneys; he would not do any of the things he ought to do.
His father was very much troubled by this, and he said to him one morning,—
"My son, take your arms, mount your horse, defend your country, protect your people. If they only see you in the midst of them, this will give them more courage; they will fight all the better for their lives and their homes, for your land and mine."
"Father," said Aucassin, "why do you say this to me?
"May God never hear my prayers, if I ever mount horse, or go to tourney or to battle, before you have yourself given to me my darling Nicolette,—my sweetheart whom I love so dearly."
"My son," said the father to him, "this cannot be.