'Neath the keep of strong Beaucaire On a day of summer fair, At his pleasure, Aucassin Sat with baron, friend and kin. Then upon the scent of flow'rs, Song of birds, and golden hours, Full of beauty, love, regret, Stole the dream of Nicolette, Came the tenderness of years; So he drew apart in tears. Then there entered to his eyes Nicolette, in minstrel guise, Touched the viol with the bow, Sang as I will let you know. "Lords and ladies, list to me, High and low, of what degree; Now I sing, for your delight, Aucassin, that loyal knight, And his fond friend, Nicolette. Such the love betwixt them set When his kinsfolk sought her head Fast he followed where she fled. From their refuge in the keep Paynims bore them o'er the deep. Nought of him I know to end. But for Nicolette, his friend, Dear she is, desirable, For her father loves her well; Famous Carthage owns him king, Where she has sweet cherishing. Now, as lord he seeks for her, Sultan, Caliph, proud Emir. But the maid of these will none, For she loves a dansellon, Aucassin, who plighted troth. Sworn has she some pretty oath Ne'er shall she be wife or bride, Never lie at baron's side Be he denied." Now they say and tell and relate: When Aucassin heard Nicolette sing in this fashion he was glad at heart, so he drew her aside, and asked-- "Fair sweet friend," said Aucassin, "know you naught of this Nicolette, whose ballad you have sung?" "Sire, truly, yes; well I know her for the most loyal of creatures, and as the most winning and modest of maidens born. She is daughter to the King of Carthage, who took her when Aucassin also was taken, and brought her to the city of Carthage, till he knew for certain that she was his child, whereat he rejoiced greatly. Any day he would give her for husband one of the highest kings in all Spain; but rather would she be hanged or burned than take him, however rich he be." "Ah, fair sweet friend," cried the Count Aucassin, "if you would return to that country and persuade her to have speech with me here, I would give you of my riches more than you would dare to ask of me or to take. Know that for love of her I choose not to have a wife, however proud her race, but I stand and wait; for never will there be wife of mine if it be not her, and if I knew where to find her I should not need to grope blindly for her thus." "Sire," answered she, "if you will do these things I will go and seek her for your sake, and for hers too; because to me she is very dear." He pledged his word, and caused her to be given twenty pounds. So she bade him farewell, and he was weeping for the sweetness of Nicolette. And when she saw his tears-- "Sire," said she, "take it not so much to heart; in so short a space will I bring her to this town, and you shall see her with your eyes."