The present translation varies a good deal from that I printed with the Old-French text. I have to some extent relaxed the restrictions I imposed on myself there, and have given freer turns, even verging occasionally on paraphrase, to bring out the full meaning, which it is often possible to miss in the original, especially in the very condensed style of the
verses. These changes will, I hope, make this version easy and pleasant to read even by those who have no leisure or no inclination to attempt the study of the Old-French itself.
AUCASSIN & NICOLETTE
’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!”