183 Provençal Lovers

WITHIN the garden of Beaucaire

He met her by a secret stair,—

The night was centuries ago.

Said Aucassin, “My love, my pet,

These old confessors vex me so!

They threaten all the pains of hell

Unless I give you up, ma belle”;—

Said Aucassin to Nicolette.

“Now, who should there in Heaven be

To fill your place, ma très-douce mie?

To reach that spot I little care!

There all the droning priests are met;

All the old cripples, too, are there

That unto shrines and altars cling

To filch the Peter-pence we bring”;—

Said Aucassin to Nicolette.

“There are the barefoot monks and friars

With gowns well tattered by the briars,

The saints who lift their eyes and whine:

I like them not—a starveling set!

Who ’d care with folk like these to dine?

The other road ’t were just as well

That you and I would take, ma belle!”—

Said Aucassin to Nicolette.

“To purgatory I would go

With pleasant comrades whom we know,

Fair scholars, minstrels, lusty knights

Whose deeds the land will not forget,

The captains of a hundred fights,

The men of valor and degree:

We ’ll join that gallant company,”—

Said Aucassin to Nicolette.

“There, too, are jousts and joyance rare,

And beauteous ladies debonair,

The pretty dames, the merry brides,

Who with their wedded lords coquette

And have a friend or two besides,—

And all in gold and trappings gay,

With furs, and crests in vair and gray”;—

Said Aucassin to Nicolette.

“Sweet players on the cithern strings,

And they who roam the world like kings,

Are gathered there, so blithe and free!

Pardie! I ’d join them now, my pet,

If you went also, ma douce mie!

The joys of heaven I ’d forego

To have you with me there below,”—

Said Aucassin to Nicolette.

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