Left the shepherds on that word,
Far into the forest spurred
Rode into the wood; and fleet
Fled his horse through paths of it,
Three words spake he of his sweet,
"Nicolete the fair, the dear,
'Tis for thee I follow here
Track of boar, nor slot of deer,
But thy sweet body and eyes so clear,
All thy mirth and merry cheer,
That my very heart have slain,
So please God to me maintain
I shall see my love again,
Sweet sister, friend!"

Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:

Aucassin fared through the forest from path to path after Nicolete, and
his horse bare him furiously. Think ye not that the thorns him spared,
nor the briars, nay, not so, but tare his raiment, that scarce a knot
might be tied with the soundest part thereof, and the blood sprang from
his arms, and flanks, and legs, in forty places, or thirty, so that
behind the Childe men might follow on the track of his blood in the
grass. But so much he went in thoughts of Nicolete, his lady sweet, that
he felt no pain nor torment, and all the day hurled through the forest in
this fashion nor heard no word of her. And when he saw Vespers draw
nigh, he began to weep for that he found her not. All down an old road,
and grassgrown he fared, when anon, looking along the way before him, he
saw such an one as I shall tell you. Tall was he, and great of growth,
laidly and marvellous to look upon: his head huge, and black as charcoal,