Aucassin and Nicolete. Lang Andrew

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СКАЧАТЬ and shapely, his nose high and well set, and so richly seen was he in all things good, that in him was none evil at all. But so suddenly overtaken was he of Love, who is a great master, that he would not, of his will, be dubbed knight, nor take arms, nor follow tourneys, nor do whatsoever him beseemed. Therefore his father and mother said to him;

      “Son, go take thine arms, mount thy horse, and hold thy land, and help thy men, for if they see thee among them, more stoutly will they keep in battle their lives, and lands, and thine, and mine.”

      “Father,” said Aucassin, “I marvel that you will be speaking. Never may God give me aught of my desire if I be made knight, or mount my horse, or face stour and battle wherein knights smite and are smitten again, unless thou give me Nicolete, my true love, that I love so well.”

      “Son,” said the father, “this may not be. Let Nicolete go, a slave girl she is, out of a strange land, and the captain of this town bought her of the Saracens, and carried her hither, and hath reared her and let christen the maid, and took her for his daughter in God, and one day will find a young man for her, to win her bread honourably. Herein hast thou naught to make or mend, but if a wife thou wilt have, I will give thee the daughter of a King, or a Count. There is no man so rich in France, but if thou desire his daughter, thou shalt have her.”

      “Faith! my father,” said Aucassin, “tell me where is the place so high in all the world, that Nicolete, my sweet lady and love, would not grace it well? If she were Empress of Constantinople or of Germany, or Queen of France or England, it were little enough for her; so gentle is she and courteous, and debonaire, and compact of all good qualities.”

      Here singeth one:

      Aucassin was of Biaucaire

      Of a goodly castle there,

      But from Nicolete the fair

      None might win his heart away

      Though his father, many a day,

      And his mother said him nay,

      “Ha! fond child, what wouldest thou?

      Nicolete is glad enow!

      Was from Carthage cast away,

      Paynims sold her on a day!

      Wouldst thou win a lady fair

      Choose a maid of high degree

      Such an one is meet for thee.”

      “Nay of these I have no care,

      Nicolete is debonaire,

      Her body sweet and the face of her

      Take my heart as in a snare,

      Loyal love is but her share

      That is so sweet.”

      Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:

      When the Count Garin de Biaucaire knew that he would avail not to withdraw Aucassin his son from the love of Nicolete, he went to the Captain of the city, who was his man, and spake to him, saying:

      “Sir Count; away with Nicolete thy daughter in God; cursed be the land whence she was brought into this country, for by reason of her do I lose Aucassin, that will neither be dubbed knight, nor do aught of the things that fall to him to be done. And wit ye well,” he said, “that if I might have her at my will, I would burn her in a fire, and yourself might well be sore adread.”

      “Sir,” said the Captain, “this is grievous to me that he comes and goes and hath speech with her. I had bought the maiden at mine own charges, and nourished her, and baptized, and made her my daughter in God. Yea, I would have given her to a young man that should win her bread honourably. With this had Aucassin thy son naught to make or mend. But, sith it is thy will and thy pleasure, I will send her into that land and that country where never will he see her with his eyes.”

      “Have a heed to thyself,” said the Count Garin, “thence might great evil come on thee.”

      So parted they each from other. Now the Captain was a right rich man: so had he a rich palace with a garden in face of it; in an upper chamber thereof he let place Nicolete, with one old woman to keep her company, and in that chamber put bread and meat and wine and such things as were needful. Then he let seal the door, that none might come in or go forth, save that there was one window, over against the garden, and strait enough, where through came to them a little air.

      Here singeth one:

      Nicolete as ye heard tell

      Prisoned is within a cell

      That is painted wondrously

      With colours of a far countrie,

      And the window of marble wrought,

      There the maiden stood in thought,

      With straight brows and yellow hair

      Never saw ye fairer fair!

      On the wood she gazed below,

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      1

      Gaston Paris, in M. Bida’s edition, p. xii. Paris, 1878. The blending is not unknown in various countries. See note at end of Translation.

      2

      I know not if I unconsciously transferred this criticism from M. Gaston Paris.

      3

      “Love in Idleness.” London, 1883, p. 169.

      4

      Theocritus, x. 37.

      5

      I have not thought it ne

1

Gaston Paris, in M. Bida’s edition, p. xii. Paris, 1878. The blending is not unknown in various countries. See note at end of Translation.

2

I know not if I unconsciously transferred this criticism from M. Gaston Paris.

3

“Love in Idleness.” London, 1883, p. 169.

4

Theocritus, x. 37.

5

I have not thought it necessary to discuss the conjectures, – they are no more, – about the Greek or Arabic origin of the cante-fable, about the derivation of Aucassin’s name, the supposed copying of Floire et Blancheflor, the longitude and СКАЧАТЬ