Anon. - Andrew Lang
Nicole est in prison mise
En une canbre vautie
Ki faite est par grant devisse,
Panturee a miramie.
A la fenestre marbrine
La s'apoia la mescine:
Ele avoit blonde la crigne
Et bien faite la sorcille,
La face clere et traitice;
Ainc plus bele ne veïstos.
Esgarda par le gaudine
Et vit la rose espanie
Et les oisax qui se crient,
Dont se clama orphenine:
Ai mi! lasse moi, caitive!
Por coi sui en prison misse?
Aucassins, demoisiax sire,
Ja sui jou li vostre amie
Et vos ne me haés mie;
Por vos sui en prison misse
En ceste canbre vautie
U je trai molt male vie;
Mais, par Diu le fil Marie
Longement n'i serai mie,
Se iel puis fare.
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,
And she saw the roses blow,
Heard the birds sing loud and low,
Therefore spoke she wofully:
"Ah me, wherefore do I lie
Here in prison wrongfully:
Aucassin, my love, my knight,
Am I not thy heart's delight,
Thou that lovest me aright!
'Tis for thee that I must dwell
In the vaulted chamber cell,
Hard beset and all alone!
By our Lady Mary's Son
Here no longer will I wonn,
If I may flee!

Click here 1 for another translation of this poem.

translator's next