Here they sing.
At Beaucaire beneath the tower
Aucassin was one fair hour.
Here he sat him on a stair;
Round him his proud barons were;
Saw the flower and green herb spring,
Heard the song-bird sweetly sing;
Of his love he thought anew,
Nicolette the maiden true,
Whom he loved so long a day;
Then to tears and sighs gave way.
Look you, Nicolette below
Draws her viol, draws her bow;
Now she speaks, her tale tells so:
"List to me proud lords arow,
Those aloft and those alow!
Would it please you hear a word
Of Aucassin, a proud lord,
And of Nicolette the bold?
Long their love did last and hold
Till he sought her in the wold.
Then, from Torelore's stronghold,
They were haled by heathen horde.
Of Aucassin we've no word.
Nicolette the maiden bold
