Section 3: Laisses 53-78
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| | That Emperour draws near to his domain, | |
| | He is come down unto the city Gailne. | |
| | The Count Rollanz had broken it and ta'en, | |
| | An hundred years its ruins shall remain. | |
| | Of Guenelun the King for news is fain, | |
| | And for tribute from the great land of Spain. | |
| | At dawn of day, just as the light grows plain, | |
| | Into their camp is come the county Guene. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | In morning time is risen the Emperere, | |
| | Mattins and Mass he's heard, and made his prayer; | |
| | On the green grass before the tent his chair, | |
| | Where Rollant stood and that bold Oliver, | |
| | Neimes the Duke, and many others there. | |
| | Guenes arrived, the felon perjurer, | |
| | Begins to speak, with very cunning air, | |
| | Says to the King: "God keep you, Sire, I swear! | |
| | Of Sarraguce the keys to you I bear, | |
| | Tribute I bring you, very great and rare, | |
| | And twenty men; look after them with care. | |
| | Proud Marsilies bade me this word declare | |
| | That alcaliph, his uncle, you must spare. | |
| | My own eyes saw four hundred thousand there, | |
| | In hauberks dressed, closed helms that gleamed in the air, | |
| | And golden hilts upon their swords they bare. | |
| | They followed him, right to the sea they'll fare; | |
| | Marsile they left, that would their faith forswear, | |
| | For Christendom they've neither wish nor care. | |
| | But the fourth league they had not compassed, ere | |
| | Brake from the North tempest and storm in the air; | |
| | Then were they drowned, they will no more appear. | |
| | Were he alive, I should have brought him here. | |
| | The pagan king, in truth, Sire, bids you hear, | |
| | Ere you have seen one month pass of this year | |
| | He'll follow you to France, to your Empire, | |
| | He will accept the laws you hold and fear; | |
| | Joining his hands, will do you homage there, | |
| | Kingdom of Spain will hold as you declare." | |
| | Then says the King: "Now God be praised, I swear! | |
| | Well have you wrought, and rich reward shall wear." | |
| | Bids through the host a thousand trumpets blare. | |
| | Franks leave their lines; the sumpter-beasts are yare | |
| | T'wards France the Douce all on their way repair. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Charles the Great that land of Spain had wasted, | |
| | Her castles ta'en, her cities violated. | |
| | Then said the King, his war was now abated. | |
| | Towards Douce France that Emperour has hasted. | |
| | Upon a lance Rollant his ensign raised, | |
| | High on a cliff against the sky 'twas placed; | |
| | The Franks in camp through all that country baited. | |
| | Cantered pagans, through those wide valleys raced, | |
| | Hauberks they wore and sarks with iron plated, | |
| | Swords to their sides were girt, their helms were laced, | |
| | Lances made sharp, escutcheons newly painted: | |
| | There in the mists beyond the peaks remained | |
| | The day of doom four hundred thousand waited. | |
| | God! what a grief. Franks know not what is fated. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Passes the day, the darkness is grown deep. | |
| | That Emperour, rich Charles, lies asleep; | |
| | Dreams that he stands in the great pass of Size, | |
| | In his two hands his ashen spear he sees; | |
| | Guenes the count that spear from him doth seize, | |
| | Brandishes it and twists it with such ease, | |
| | That flown into the sky the flinders seem. | |
| | Charles sleeps on nor wakens from his dream. | |
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| | And after this another vision saw, | |
| | In France, at Aix, in his Chapelle once more, | |
| | That his right arm an evil bear did gnaw; | |
| | Out of Ardennes he saw a leopard stalk, | |
| | His body dear did savagely assault; | |
| | But then there dashed a harrier from the hall, | |
| | Leaping in the air he sped to Charles call, | |
| | First the right ear of that grim bear he caught, | |
| | And furiously the leopard next he fought. | |
| | Of battle great the Franks then seemed to talk, | |
| | Yet which might win they knew not, in his thought. | |
| | Charles sleeps on, nor wakens he for aught. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Passes the night and opens the clear day; | |
| | That Emperour canters in brave array, | |
| | Looks through the host often and everyway; | |
| | "My lords barons," at length doth Charles say, | |
| | "Ye see the pass along these valleys strait, | |
| | Judge for me now, who shall in rereward wait." | |
| | "There's my good-son, Rollanz," then answers Guenes, | |
| | "You've no baron whose valour is as great." | |
| | When the King hears, he looks upon him straight, | |
| | And says to him: "You devil incarnate; | |
| | Into your heart is come a mortal hate. | |
| | And who shall go before me in the gate?" | |
| | "Oger is here, of Denmark;" answers Guenes, | |
| | "You've no baron were better in that place." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | The count Rollanz hath heard himself decreed; | |
| | Speaks then to Guenes by rule of courtesy: | |
| | "Good-father, Sir, I ought to hold you dear, | |
| | Since the rereward you have for me decreed. | |
| | Charles the King will never lose by me, | |
| | As I know well, nor charger nor palfrey, | |
| | Jennet nor mule that canter can with speed, | |
| | Nor sumpter-horse will lose, nor any steed; | |
| | But my sword's point shall first exact their meed." | |
| | Answers him Guenes: "I know; 'tis true in-deed." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | When Rollant heard that he should be rerewarden | |
| | Furiously he spoke to his good-father: | |
| | "Aha! culvert; begotten of a bastard. | |
| | Thinkest the glove will slip from me hereafter, | |
| | As then from thee the wand fell before Charles?" | |
| AOI. | |
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| | "Right Emperour," says the baron Rollanz, | |
| | "Give me the bow you carry in your hand; | |
| | Neer in reproach, I know, will any man | |
| | Say that it fell and lay upon the land, | |
| | As Guenes let fall, when he received the wand." | |
| | That Emperour with lowered front doth stand, | |
| | He tugs his beard, his chin is in his hand | |
| | Tears fill his eyes, he cannot them command. | |
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| | And after that is come duke Neimes furth, | |
| | (Better vassal there was not upon earth) | |
| | Says to the King: "Right well now have you heard | |
| | The count Rollanz to bitter wrath is stirred, | |
| | For that on him the rereward is conferred; | |
| | No baron else have you, would do that work. | |
| | Give him the bow your hands have bent, at first; | |
| | Then find him men, his company are worth." | |
| | Gives it, the King, and Rollant bears it furth. | |
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| | That Emperour, Rollanz then calleth he: | |
| | "Fair nephew mine, know this in verity; | |
| | Half of my host I leave you presently; | |
| | Retain you them; your safeguard this shall be." | |
| | Then says the count: "I will not have them, me I | |
| | Confound me God, if I fail in the deed! | |
| | Good valiant Franks, a thousand score I'll keep. | |
| | Go through the pass in all security, | |
| | While I'm alive there's no man you need fear." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | The count Rollanz has mounted his charger. | |
| | Beside him came his comrade Oliver, | |
| | Also Gerins and the proud count Geriers, | |
| | And Otes came, and also Berengiers, | |
| | Old Anseis, and Sansun too came there; | |
| | Gerart also of Rossillon the fierce, | |
| | And there is come the Gascon Engeliers. | |
| | "Now by my head I'll go!" the Archbishop swears. | |
| | "And I'm with you," says then the count Gualtiers, | |
| | "I'm Rollant's man, I may not leave him there." | |
| | A thousand score they choose of chevaliers. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Gualter del Hum he calls, that Count Rollanz; | |
| | "A thousand Franks take, out of France our land; | |
| | Dispose them so, among ravines and crags, | |
| | That the Emperour lose not a single man." | |
| | Gualter replies: "I'll do as you command." | |
| | A thousand Franks, come out of France their land, | |
| | At Gualter's word they scour ravines and crags; | |
| | They'll not come down, howe'er the news be bad, | |
| | Ere from their sheaths swords seven hundred flash. | |
| | King Almaris, Belserne for kingdom had, | |
| | On the evil day he met them in combat. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | High are the peaks, the valleys shadowful, | |
| | Swarthy the rocks, the narrows wonderful. | |
| | Franks passed that day all very sorrowful, | |
| | Fifteen leagues round the rumour of them grew. | |
| | When they were come, and Terra Major knew, | |
| | Saw Gascony their land and their seigneur's, | |
| | Remembering their fiefs and their honours, | |
| | Their little maids, their gentle wives and true; | |
| | There was not one that shed not tears for rue. | |
| | Beyond the rest Charles was of anguish full, | |
| | In Spanish Pass he'd left his dear nephew; | |
| | Pity him seized; he could but weep for rue. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | The dozen peers are left behind in Spain, | |
| | Franks in their band a thousand score remain, | |
| | No fear have these, death hold they in disdain. | |
| | That Emperour goes into France apace; | |
| | Under his cloke he fain would hide his face. | |
| | Up to his side comes cantering Duke Neimes, | |
| | Says to the King: "What grief upon you weighs?" | |
| | Charles answers him: "He's wrong that question makes. | |
| | So great my grief I cannot but complain. | |
| | France is destroyed, by the device of Guene: | |
| | This night I saw, by an angel's vision plain, | |
| | Between my hands he brake my spear in twain; | |
| | Great fear I have, since Rollant must remain: | |
| | I've left him there, upon a border strange. | |
| | God! If he's lost, I'll not outlive that shame." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Charles the great, he cannot but deplore. | |
| | And with him Franks an hundred thousand mourn, | |
| | Who for Rollanz have marvellous remorse. | |
| | The felon Guenes had treacherously wrought; | |
| | From pagan kin has had his rich reward, | |
| | Silver and gold, and veils and silken cloths, | |
| | Camels, lions, with many a mule and horse. | |
| | Barons from Spain King Marsilies hath called, | |
| | Counts and viscounts and dukes and almacours, | |
| | And the admirals, and cadets nobly born; | |
| | Within three days come hundreds thousands four. | |
| | In Sarraguce they sound the drums of war; | |
| | Mahum they raise upon their highest tow'r, | |
| | Pagan is none, that does not him adore. | |
| | They canter then with great contention | |
| | Through Certeine land, valleys and mountains, on, | |
| | Till of the Franks they see the gonfalons, | |
| | Being in rereward those dozen companions; | |
| | They will not fail battle to do anon. | |
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| | Marsile's nephew is come before the band, | |
| | Riding a mule, he goads it with a wand, | |
| | Smiling and clear, his uncle's ear demands: | |
| | "Fair Lord and King, since, in your service, glad, | |
| | I have endured sorrow and sufferance, | |
| | Have fought in field, and victories have had. | |
| | Give me a fee: the right to smite Rollanz! | |
| | I'll slay him clean with my good trenchant lance, | |
| | If Mahumet will be my sure warrant; | |
| | Spain I'll set free, deliver all her land | |
| | From Pass of Aspre even unto Durestant. | |
| | Charles will grow faint, and recreant the Franks; | |
| | There'll be no war while you're a living man." | |
| | Marsilie gives the glove into his hand. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | Marsile's nephew, holding in hand the glove, | |
| | His uncle calls, with reason proud enough: | |
| | "Fair Lord and King, great gift from you I've won. | |
| | Choose now for me eleven more baruns, | |
| | So I may fight those dozen companions." | |
| | First before all there answers Falfarun; | |
| | —Brother he was to King Marsiliun— | |
| | "Fair sir nephew, go you and I at once | |
| | Then verily this battle shall be done; | |
| | The rereward of the great host of Carlun, | |
| | It is decreed we deal them now their doom." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | King Corsablis is come from the other part, | |
| | Barbarian, and steeped in evil art. | |
| | He's spoken then as fits a good vassal, | |
| | For all God's gold he would not seem coward. | |
| | Hastes into view Malprimis of Brigal, | |
| | Faster than a horse, upon his feet can dart, | |
| | Before Marsile he cries with all his heart: | |
| | "My body I will shew at Rencesvals; | |
| | Find I Rollanz, I'll slay him without fault." | |
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| | An admiral is there of Balaguet; | |
| | Clear face and proud, and body nobly bred; | |
| | Since first he was upon his horse mounted, | |
| | His arms to bear has shewn great lustihead; | |
| | In vassalage he is well famoused; | |
| | Christian were he, he'd shewn good baronhead. | |
| | Before Marsile aloud has he shouted: | |
| | "To Rencesvals my body shall be led; | |
| | Find I Rollanz, then is he surely dead, | |
| | And Oliver, and all the other twelve; | |
| | Franks shall be slain in grief and wretchedness. | |
| | Charles the great is old now and doted, | |
| | Weary will be and make no war again; | |
| | Spain shall be ours, in peace and quietness." | |
| | King Marsilies has heard and thanks him well. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | An almacour is there of Moriane, | |
| | More felon none in all the land of Spain. | |
| | Before Marsile his vaunting boast hath made: | |
| | "To Rencesvals my company I'll take, | |
| | A thousand score, with shields and lances brave. | |
| | Find I Rollanz, with death I'll him acquaint; | |
| | Day shall not dawn but Charles will make his plaint." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | From the other part, Turgis of Turtelose, | |
| | He was a count, that city was his own; | |
| | Christians he would them massacre, every one. | |
| | Before Marsile among the rest is gone, | |
| | Says to the King: "Let not dismay be shewn! | |
| | Mahum's more worth than Saint Peter of Rome; | |
| | Serve we him well, then fame in field we'll own. | |
| | To Rencesvals, to meet Rollanz I'll go, | |
| | From death he'll find his warranty in none. | |
| | See here my sword, that is both good and long | |
| | With Durendal I'll lay it well across; | |
| | Ye'll hear betimes to which the prize is gone. | |
| | Franks shall be slain, whom we descend upon, | |
| | Charles the old will suffer grief and wrong, | |
| | No more on earth his crown will he put on." | |
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| | From the other part, Escremiz of Valtrenne, | |
| | A Sarrazin, that land was his as well. | |
| | Before Marsile he cries amid the press: | |
| | "To Rencesvals I go, pride to make less; | |
| | Find I Rollanz, he'll not bear thence his head, | |
| | Nor Oliver that hath the others led, | |
| | The dozen peers condemned are to death; | |
| | Franks shall be slain, and France lie deserted. | |
| | Of good vassals will Charles be richly bled." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | From the other part, a pagan Esturganz; | |
| | Estramariz also, was his comrade; | |
| | Felons were these, and traitors miscreant. | |
| | Then said Marsile: "My Lords, before me stand! | |
| | Into the pass ye'll go to Rencesvals, | |
| | Give me your aid, and thither lead my band." | |
| | They answer him: "Sire, even as you command. | |
| | We will assault Olivier and Rollant, | |
| | The dozen peers from death have no warrant, | |
| | For these our swords are trusty and trenchant, | |
| | In scalding blood we'll dye their blades scarlat. | |
| | Franks shall be slain, and Chares be right sad. | |
| | Terra Major we'll give into your hand; | |
| | Come there, Sir King, truly you'll see all that | |
| | Yea, the Emperour we'll give into your hand." | |
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| | Running there came Margariz of Sibile, | |
| | Who holds the land by Cadiz, to the sea. | |
| | For his beauty the ladies hold him dear; | |
| | Who looks on him, with him her heart is pleased, | |
| | When she beholds, she can but smile for glee. | |
| | Was no pagan of such high chivalry. | |
| | Comes through the press, above them all cries he, | |
| | "Be not at all dismayed, King Marsilie! | |
| | To Rencesvals I go, and Rollanz, he | |
| | Nor Oliver may scape alive from me; | |
| | The dozen peers are doomed to martyry. | |
| | See here the sword, whose hilt is gold indeed, | |
| | I got in gift from the admiral of Primes; | |
| | In scarlat blood I pledge it shall be steeped. | |
| | Franks shall be slain, and France abased be. | |
| | To Charles the old, with his great blossoming beard, | |
| | Day shall not dawn but brings him rage and grief, | |
| | Ere a year pass, all France we shall have seized, | |
| | Till we can lie in th' burgh of Saint Denise." | |
| | The pagan king has bowed his head down deep. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | LXXVIII | |
| | From the other part, Chemubles of Muneigre. | |
| | Right to the ground his hair swept either way; | |
| | He for a jest would bear a heavier weight | |
| | Than four yoked mules, beneath their load that strain. | |
| | That land he had, God's curse on it was plain. | |
| | No sun shone there, nor grew there any grain, | |
| | No dew fell there, nor any shower of rain, | |
| | The very stones were black upon that plain; | |
| | And many say that devils there remain. | |
| | Says Chemubles "My sword is in its place, | |
| | At Rencesvals scarlat I will it stain; | |
| | Find I Rollanz the proud upon my way, | |
| | I'll fall on him, or trust me not again, | |
| | And Durendal I'll conquer with this blade, | |
| | Franks shall be slain, and France a desert made." | |
| | The dozen peers are, at this word, away, | |
| | Five score thousand of Sarrazins they take; | |
| | Who keenly press, and on to battle haste; | |
| | In a fir-wood their gear they ready make. | |
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