Where smooth the southern waters run <br />By rustling leagues of poplars grey, <br />Beneath a veiled soft southern sun, <br />We wandered out of yesterday, <br />Went maying through that ancient May <br />Whose fallen flowers are fragrant yet, <br />And loitered by the fountain spray <br />With Aucassin and Nicolette. <br /> <br />The grass-grown paths are trod of none <br />Where through the woods they went astray. <br />The spider's traceries are spun <br />Across the darkling forest way. <br />There come no knights that ride to slay, <br />No pilgrims through the grasses wet, <br />No shepherd lads that sang their say <br />With Aucassin and Nicolette! <br /> <br />'Twas here by Nicolette begun <br />Her bower of boughs and grasses gay; <br />'Scaped from the cell of marble dun <br />'Twas here the lover found the fay, <br />Ah, lovers fond! ah, foolish play! <br />How hard we find it to forget <br />Who fain would dwell with them as they, <br />With Aucassin and Nicolette. <br /> <br />ENVOY. <br /> <br />Prince, 'tis a melancholy lay! <br />For youth, for love we both regret. <br />How fair they seem, how far away, <br />With Aucassin and Nicolette!<br /><br />Andrew Lang<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballade-of-aucassin/
