READ STUDY GUIDE: Laisses 53-78 |
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Section 3:
Laisses 53-78
Laisses 53-78
| LIII |
| 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. |
| LIV |
| 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. |
| LV |
| 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. |
| LVI |
| 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. |
| LVII |
| 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. |
| LVIII |
| 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. |
| LIX |
| 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. |
| LX |
| 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. |
| LXI |
| "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. |
| LXII |
| 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. |
| LXIII |
| 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. |
| LXIV |
| 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. |
| LXV |
| 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. |
| LXVI |
| 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. |
| LXVII |
| 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. |
| LXVIII |
| 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. |
| LXIX |
| 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. |
| LXX |
| 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. |
| LXXI |
| 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." |
| LXXII |
| 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. |
| LXXIII |
| 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. |
| LXXIV |
| 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." |
| LXXV |
| 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. |
| LXXVI |
| 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." |
| LXXVII |
| 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. |
| 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. |
