Section 2: Laisses 27-52
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| | Guenes the count goes to his hostelry, | |
| | Finds for the road his garments and his gear, | |
| | All of the best he takes that may appear: | |
| | Spurs of fine gold he fastens on his feet, | |
| | And to his side Murgles his sword of steel. | |
| | On Tachebrun, his charger, next he leaps, | |
| | His uncle holds the stirrup, Guinemere. | |
| | Then you had seen so many knights to weep, | |
| | Who all exclaim: "Unlucky lord, indeed! | |
| | In the King's court these many years you've been, | |
| | Noble vassal, they say that have you seen. | |
| | He that for you this journey has decreed | |
| | King Charlemagne will never hold him dear. | |
| | The Count Rollant, he should not so have deemed, | |
| | Knowing you were born of very noble breed." | |
| | After they say: "Us too, Sire, shall he lead." | |
| | Then answers Guenes: "Not so, the Lord be pleased! | |
| | Far better one than many knights should bleed. | |
| | To France the Douce, my lords, you soon shall speed, | |
| | On my behalf my gentle wife you'll greet, | |
| | And Pinabel, who is my friend and peer, | |
| | And Baldewin, my son, whom you have seen; | |
| | His rights accord and help him in his need." | |
| | —Rides down the road, and on his way goes he. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Guenes canters on, and halts beneath a tree; | |
| | Where Sarrazins assembled he may see, | |
| | With Blancandrins, who abides his company. | |
| | Cunning and keen they speak then, each to each, | |
| | Says Blancandrins: "Charles, what a man is he, | |
| | Who conquered Puille and th'whole of Calabrie; | |
| | Into England he crossed the bitter sea, | |
| | To th' Holy Pope restored again his fee. | |
| | What seeks he now of us in our country?" | |
| | Then answers Guene "So great courage hath he; | |
| | Never was man against him might succeed." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Says Blancandrins "Gentle the Franks are found; | |
| | Yet a great wrong these dukes do and these counts | |
| | Unto their lord, being in counsel proud; | |
| | Him and themselves they harry and confound." | |
| | Guenes replies: "There is none such, without | |
| | Only Rollanz, whom shame will yet find out. | |
| | Once in the shade the King had sate him down; | |
| | His nephew came, in sark of iron brown, | |
| | Spoils he had won, beyond by Carcasoune, | |
| | Held in his hand an apple red and round. | |
| | "Behold, fair Sire," said Rollanz as he bowed, | |
| | "Of all earth's kings I bring you here the crowns." | |
| | His cruel pride must shortly him confound, | |
| | Each day t'wards death he goes a little down, | |
| | When he be slain, shall peace once more abound." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Says Blancandrins: "A cruel man, Rollant, | |
| | That would bring down to bondage every man, | |
| | And challenges the peace of every land. | |
| | With what people takes he this task in hand?" | |
| | And answers Guene: "The people of the Franks; | |
| | They love him so, for men he'll never want. | |
| | Silver and gold he show'rs upon his band, | |
| | Chargers and mules, garments and silken mats. | |
| | The King himself holds all by his command; | |
| | From hence to the East he'll conquer sea and land." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Cantered so far then Blancandrins and Guene | |
| | Till each by each a covenant had made | |
| | And sought a plan, how Rollant might be slain. | |
| | Cantered so far by valley and by plain | |
| | To Sarraguce beneath a cliff they came. | |
| | There a fald-stool stood in a pine-tree's shade, | |
| | Enveloped all in Alexandrin veils; | |
| | There was the King that held the whole of Espain, | |
| | Twenty thousand of Sarrazins his train; | |
| | Nor was there one but did his speech contain, | |
| | Eager for news, till they might hear the tale. | |
| | Haste into sight then Blancandrins and Guene. | |
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| | Blancandrin comes before Marsiliun, | |
| | Holding the hand of county Guenelun; | |
| | Says to the King "Lord save you, Sire, Mahum | |
| | And Apollin, whose holy laws here run! | |
| | Your message we delivered to Charlun, | |
| | Both his two hands he raised against the sun, | |
| | Praising his God, but answer made he none. | |
| | He sends you here his noblest born barun, | |
| | Greatest in wealth, that out of France is come; | |
| | From him you'll hear if peace shall be, or none." | |
| | "Speak," said Marsile: "We'll hear him, every one." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | But the count Guenes did deeply meditate; | |
| | Cunning and keen began at length, and spake | |
| | Even as one that knoweth well the way; | |
| | And to the King: "May God preserve you safe, | |
| | The All Glorious, to whom we're bound to pray | |
| | Proud Charlemagne this message bids me say: | |
| | You must receive the holy Christian Faith, | |
| | And yield in fee one half the lands of Spain. | |
| | If to accord this tribute you disdain, | |
| | Taken by force and bound in iron chain | |
| | You will be brought before his throne at Aix; | |
| | Judged and condemned you'll be, and shortly slain, | |
| | Yes, you will die in misery and shame." | |
| | King Marsilies was very sore afraid, | |
| | Snatching a dart, with golden feathers gay, | |
| | He made to strike: they turned aside his aim. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | King Marsilies is turn'ed white with rage, | |
| | His feathered dart he brandishes and shakes. | |
| | Guenes beholds: his sword in hand he takes, | |
| | Two fingers' width from scabbard bares the blade; | |
| | And says to it: "O clear and fair and brave; | |
| | Before this King in court we'll so behave, | |
| | That the Emperour of France shall never say | |
| | In a strange land I'd thrown my life away | |
| | Before these chiefs thy temper had essayed." | |
| | "Let us prevent this fight:" the pagans say. | |
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| | Then Sarrazins implored him so, the chiefs, | |
| | On the faldstoel Marsillies took his seat. | |
| | "Greatly you harm our cause," says the alcaliph: | |
| | "When on this Frank your vengeance you would wreak; | |
| | Rather you should listen to hear him speak." | |
| | "Sire," Guenes says, "to suffer I am meek. | |
| | I will not fail, for all the gold God keeps, | |
| | Nay, should this land its treasure pile in heaps, | |
| | But I will tell, so long as I be free, | |
| | What Charlemagne, that Royal Majesty, | |
| | Bids me inform his mortal enemy." | |
| | Guenes had on a cloke of sable skin, | |
| | And over it a veil Alexandrin; | |
| | These he throws down, they're held by Blancandrin; | |
| | But not his sword, he'll not leave hold of it, | |
| | In his right hand he grasps the golden hilt. | |
| | The pagans say. "A noble baron, this." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Before the King's face Guenes drawing near | |
| | Says to him "Sire, wherefore this rage and fear? | |
| | Seeing you are, by Charles, of Franks the chief, | |
| | Bidden to hold the Christians' right belief. | |
| | One half of Spain he'll render as your fief | |
| | The rest Rollanz, his nephew, shall receive, | |
| | Proud parcener in him you'll have indeed. | |
| | If you will not to Charles this tribute cede, | |
| | To you he'll come, and Sarraguce besiege; | |
| | Take you by force, and bind you hands and feet, | |
| | Bear you outright ev'n unto Aix his seat. | |
| | You will not then on palfrey nor on steed, | |
| | Jennet nor mule, come cantering in your speed; | |
| | Flung you will be on a vile sumpter-beast; | |
| | Tried there and judged, your head you will not keep. | |
| | Our Emperour has sent you here this brief." | |
| | He's given it into the pagan's nief. | |
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| | Now Marsilies, is turn'ed white with ire, | |
| | He breaks the seal and casts the wax aside, | |
| | Looks in the brief, sees what the King did write: | |
| | "Charles commands, who holds all France by might, | |
| | I bear in mind his bitter grief and ire; | |
| | 'Tis of Basan and 's brother Basilye, | |
| | Whose heads I took on th' hill by Haltilye. | |
| | If I would save my body now alive, | |
| | I must despatch my uncle the alcalyph, | |
| | Charles will not love me ever otherwise." | |
| | After, there speaks his son to Marsilye, | |
| | Says to the King: "In madness spoke this wight. | |
| | So wrong he was, to spare him were not right; | |
| | Leave him to me, I will that wrong requite." | |
| | When Guenes hears, he draws his sword outright, | |
| | Against the trunk he stands, beneath that pine. | |
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| | The King is gone into that orchard then; | |
| | With him he takes the best among his men; | |
| | And Blancandrins there shews his snowy hair, | |
| | And Jursalet, was the King's son and heir, | |
| | And the alcaliph, his uncle and his friend. | |
| | Says Blancandrins: "Summon the Frank again, | |
| | In our service his faith to me he's pledged." | |
| | Then says the King: "So let him now be fetched." | |
| | He's taken Guenes by his right finger-ends, | |
| | And through the orchard straight to the King they wend. | |
| | Of treason there make lawless parliament. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | "Fair Master Guenes," says then King Marsilie, | |
| | "I did you now a little trickery, | |
| | Making to strike, I shewed my great fury. | |
| | These sable skins take as amends from me, | |
| | Five hundred pounds would not their worth redeem. | |
| | To-morrow night the gift shall ready be." | |
| | Guene answers him: "I'll not refuse it, me. | |
| | May God be pleased to shew you His mercy." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Then says Marsile "Guenes, the truth to ken, | |
| | Minded I am to love you very well. | |
| | Of Charlemagne I wish to hear you tell, | |
| | He's very old, his time is nearly spent, | |
| | Two hundred years he's lived now, as 'tis said. | |
| | Through many lands his armies he has led, | |
| | So many blows his buckled shield has shed, | |
| | And so rich kings he's brought to beg their bread; | |
| | What time from war will he draw back instead?" | |
| | And answers Guenes: "Not so was Charles bred. | |
| | There is no man that sees and knows him well | |
| | But will proclaim the Emperour's hardihead. | |
| | Praise him as best I may, when all is said, | |
| | Remain untold, honour and goodness yet. | |
| | His great valour how can it be counted? | |
| | Him with such grace hath God illumined, | |
| | Better to die than leave his banneret." | |
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| | The pagan says: "You make me marvel sore | |
| | At Charlemagne, who is so old and hoar; | |
| | Two hundred years, they say, he's lived and more. | |
| | So many lands he's led his armies o'er, | |
| | So many blows from spears and lances borne, | |
| | And so rich kings brought down to beg and sorn, | |
| | When will time come that he draws back from war?" | |
| | "Never," says Guenes, "so long as lives his nephew; | |
| | No such vassal goes neath the dome of heaven; | |
| | And proof also is Oliver his henchman; | |
| | The dozen peers, whom Charl'es holds so precious, | |
| | These are his guards, with other thousands twenty. | |
| | Charles is secure, he holds no man in terror." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Says Sarrazin: "My wonder yet is grand | |
| | At Charlemagne, who hoary is and blanched. | |
| | Two hundred years and more, I understand, | |
| | He has gone forth and conquered many a land, | |
| | Such blows hath borne from many a trenchant lance, | |
| | Vanquished and slain of kings so rich a band, | |
| | When will time come that he from war draws back?" | |
| | "Never," says Guene, "so long as lives Rollanz, | |
| | From hence to the East there is no such vassal; | |
| | And proof also, Oliver his comrade; | |
| | The dozen peers he cherishes at hand, | |
| | These are his guard, with twenty thousand Franks. | |
| | Charles is secure, he fears no living man." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | "Fair Master Guenes," says Marsilies the King, | |
| | "Such men are mine, fairer than tongue can sing, | |
| | Of knights I can four hundred thousand bring | |
| | So I may fight with Franks and with their King." | |
| | Answers him Guenes: "Not on this journeying | |
| | Save of pagans a great loss suffering. | |
| | Leave you the fools, wise counsel following; | |
| | To the Emperour such wealth of treasure give | |
| | That every Frank at once is marvelling. | |
| | For twenty men that you shall now send in | |
| | To France the Douce he will repair, that King; | |
| | In the rereward will follow after him | |
| | Both his nephew, count Rollant, as I think, | |
| | And Oliver, that courteous paladin; | |
| | Dead are the counts, believe me if you will. | |
| | Charles will behold his great pride perishing, | |
| | For battle then he'll have no more the skill. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Fair Master Guene," says then King Marsilie, | |
| | "Shew the device, how Rollant slain may be." | |
| | Answers him Guenes: "That will I soon make clear | |
| | The King will cross by the good pass of Size, | |
| | A guard he'll set behind him, in the rear; | |
| | His nephew there, count Rollant, that rich peer, | |
| | And Oliver, in whom he well believes; | |
| | Twenty thousand Franks in their company | |
| | Five score thousand pagans upon them lead, | |
| | Franks unawares in battle you shall meet, | |
| | Bruised and bled white the race of Franks shall be; | |
| | I do not say, but yours shall also bleed. | |
| | Battle again deliver, and with speed. | |
| | So, first or last, from Rollant you'll be freed. | |
| | You will have wrought a high chivalrous deed, | |
| | Nor all your life know war again, but peace. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | "Could one achieve that Rollant's life was lost, | |
| | Charle's right arm were from his body torn; | |
| | Though there remained his marvellous great host, | |
| | He'ld not again assemble in such force; | |
| | Terra Major would languish in repose." | |
| | Marsile has heard, he's kissed him on the throat; | |
| | Next he begins to undo his treasure-store. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Said Marsilie—but now what more said they?— | |
| | "No faith in words by oath unbound I lay; | |
| | Swear me the death of Rollant on that day." | |
| | Then answered Guene: "So be it, as you say." | |
| | On the relics, are in his sword Murgles, | |
| | Treason he's sworn, forsworn his faith away. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Was a fald-stool there, made of olifant. | |
| | A book thereon Marsilies bade them plant, | |
| | In it their laws, Mahum's and Tervagant's. | |
| | He's sworn thereby, the Spanish Sarazand, | |
| | In the rereward if he shall find Rollant, | |
| | Battle to himself and all his band, | |
| | And verily he'll slay him if he can. | |
| | And answered Guenes: "So be it, as you command!" | |
| AOI. | |
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| | In haste there came a pagan Valdabrun, | |
| | Warden had been to King Marsiliun, | |
| | Smiling and clear, he's said to Guenelun, | |
| | "Take now this sword, and better sword has none; | |
| | Into the hilt a thousand coins are run. | |
| | To you, fair sir, I offer it in love; | |
| | Give us your aid from Rollant the barun, | |
| | That in rereward against him we may come." | |
| | Guenes the count answers: "It shall-be done." | |
| | Then, cheek and chin, kissed each the other one. | |
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| | After there came a pagan, Climorins, | |
| | Smiling and clear to Guenelun begins: | |
| | "Take now my helm, better is none than this; | |
| | But give us aid, on Rollant the marquis, | |
| | By what device we may dishonour bring." | |
| | "It shall be done." Count Guenes answered him; | |
| | On mouth and cheek then each the other kissed. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | In haste there came the Queen forth, Bramimound; | |
| | "I love you well, sir," said she to the count, | |
| | "For prize you dear my lord and all around; | |
| | Here for your wife I have two brooches found, | |
| | Amethysts and jacynths in golden mount; | |
| | More worth are they than all the wealth of Roum; | |
| | Your Emperour has none such, I'll be bound." | |
| | He's taken them, and in his hosen pouched. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | The King now calls Malduiz, that guards his treasure. | |
| | "Tribute for Charles, say, is it now made ready?" | |
| | He answers him: "Ay, Sire, for here is plenty | |
| | Silver and gold on hundred camels seven, | |
| | And twenty men, the gentlest under heaven." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Marsilie's arm Guene's shoulder doth enfold; | |
| | He's said to him: "You are both wise and bold. | |
| | Now, by the law that you most sacred hold, | |
| | Let not your heart in our behalf grow cold! | |
| | Out of my store I'll give you wealth untold, | |
| | Charging ten mules with fine Arabian gold; | |
| | I'll do the same for you, new year and old. | |
| | Take then the keys of this city so large, | |
| | This great tribute present you first to Charles, | |
| | Then get me placed Rollanz in the rereward. | |
| | If him I find in valley or in pass, | |
| | Battle I'll give him that shall be the last." | |
| | Answers him Guenes: "My time is nearly past." | |
| | His charger mounts, and on his journey starts. | |
| AOI. | |
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