nd bound Aucassin hand and
foot and threw him into one ship, and Nicolette into another. And there
arose a storm at sea which parted them. The ship in which Aucassin was
went drifting over the sea till it arrived at the Castle of Beaucaire.
And when the people of the country ran to the wrecking of it, they found
Aucassin, and recognised him. When the men of Beaucaire saw their young
lord, they made great joy of him; for Aucassin had stayed at the Castle
of Torelore full three years, and his father and mother were dead. They
brought him to the Castle of Beaucaire, and all became his liegemen. And
he held his land in peace.

_Here they sing_.

Aucassin did thus repair
To his city of Beaucaire;
All the kingdom and countrie
Held in great tranquillity.
Swore he by God's majesty,
Sorer far is his regret
For bright-favoured Nicolette
Than his kinsfolk every one,
Though they all were dead and gone.
"Sweet my sweetheart, bright of cheer,
You to seek I know not where!
Never God made that countrie,
Overland or oversea,
If I thought to light on thee,
I'd not fly thither!"

_Here they speak and tell the story_.

Now we will leave Aucassin, and tell of Nicolette. The ship in which
Nicolette was, was the king of Carthage's, and he was her father, and she
had twelve brothers, all princes or kings. When they saw Nicolette so
beautiful, they did her very great honour, and made rejoicing over her;
and much they questioned of her who she was; for in sooth she seemed a
very noble lady and of high degree. But she could not tell them who she
was; for she had been carried captive as a little child.

They sailed till they came beneath the city of Carthage. And when
Nicolette saw the walls of the castle, and the country, she recognised
that it was there she had been brought up and carried captive as a little
child; yet she was not such a little child but that she knew well that
she had been daughter to the king of Carthage, and that she had been
brought up in the city.

_Here they sing_.

Nicolette, the wise, the brave,
Won to land from off the wave;
Sees the wharves, the city walls,
And the palaces and halls;
Then she cries, "Ah! woe is me!
Ah, woe worth my high degree!
King's daughter of Carthagen,
To the Amiral akin!
Here me holds a salvage horde!
Aucassin, my gentle lord,
Wise and worshipful and free,
Your sweet love constraineth me,
Calleth me and troubleth me!
Grant me God the Heavenly
Yet to hold you i