Where smooth the Southern waters run Through rustling leagues of poplars gray, Beneath a veiled soft Southern sun, We wandered out of Yesterday;Went Maying in that ancient May Whose fallen flowers are fragrant yet, And lingered by the fountain spray With Aucassin and Nicolete.
The grassgrown paths are trod of none Where through the woods they went astray;The spider's traceries are spun Across the darkling forest way;There come no Knights that ride to slay, No Pilgrims through the grasses wet, No shepherd lads that sang their say With Aucassin and Nicolete.
'Twas here by Nicolete begun Her lodge of boughs and blossoms gay;'Scaped from the cell of marble dun 'Twas here the lover found the Fay;O lovers fond, O foolish play!
How hard we find it to forget, Who fain would dwell with them as they, With Aucassin and Nicolete.
ENVOY.
Prince, 'tis a melancholy lay!
For Youth, for Life we both regret:
How fair they seem; how far away, With Aucassin and Nicolete.
A. L.
