Little Star I gaze upon Sweetly drawing to the moon, In such golden haunt is set Love, and bright-haired Nicolette. God hath taken from our war Beauty, like a shining star. Ah, to reach her, though I fell From her Heaven to my Hell. Who were worthy such a thing, Were he emperor or king? Still you shine, oh, perfect Star, Beyond, afar. Now they say and tell and relate: When Nicolette heard Aucassin speak these words she hastened to him from where she was hidden near by. She entered in the bower, and clasping her arms about his neck, kissed and embraced him straitly. "Fair sweet friend, very glad am I to find you." "And you, fair sweet friend, glad am I to meet." So they kissed, and held each other fast, and their joy was lovely to see. "Ah, sweet friend," cried Aucassin, "it was but now that I was in grievous pain with my shoulder, but since I hold you close I feel neither sorrow nor wound." Nicolette searched his hurt, and perceived that the shoulder was out of joint. She handled it so deftly with her white hands, and used such skilful surgery, that by the grace of God (who loveth all true lovers) the shoulder came back to its place. Then she plucked flowers, and fresh grass and green leafage, and bound them tightly about the setting with the hem torn from her shift, and he was altogether healed. "Aucassin," said she, "fair sweet friend, let us take thought together as to what must be done. If your father beats the wood to-morrow, and men take me, whatever may chance to you, certainly I shall be slain." "Certes, fair sweet friend, the sorer grief would be mine. But so I may help, never shall you come to his hands." So he mounted to horse, and setting his love before him, held her fast in his arms, kissing her as he rode, and thus they came forth to the open fields. Now is sung: Aucassin, that loving squire, Dainty fair to heart's desire, Rode from out the forest dim Clasping her he loved to him. 'Laced upon the saddle bow There he kissed her, chin and brow, There embraced her, mouth and eyes. But she spake him, sweetly wise; "Love, a term to dalliance, Since for us no home in France Seek we Rome or far Byzance?" "Sweet my love, all's one to me, Dale or woodland, earth or sea; Nothing care I where we ride So I hold you at my side." So, enlaced, the lovers went, Skirting town and battlement, Rocky scaur, and quiet lawn; Till one morning, with the dawn, Broke the cliffs down to the shore, Loud they heard the surges roar, Stood by the sea. Now they say and tell and relate: