Section 9: Laisses 214-236
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| | Now to be off would that Emperour Charles, | |
| | When pagans, lo! comes surging the vanguard; | |
| | Two messengers come from their ranks forward, | |
| | From the admiral bring challenge to combat: | |
| | "'Tis not yet time, proud King, that thou de-part. | |
| | Lo, Baligant comes cantering afterward, | |
| | Great are the hosts he leads from Arab parts; | |
| | This day we'll see if thou hast vassalage." | |
| | Charles the King his snowy beard has clasped, | |
| | Remembering his sorrow and damage, | |
| | Haughtily then his people all regards, | |
| | In a loud voice he cries with all his heart: | |
| | "Barons and Franks, to horse, I say, to arms!" | |
| AOI. | |
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| | First before all was armed that Emperour, | |
| | Nimbly enough his iron sark indued, | |
| | Laced up his helm, girt on his sword Joiuse, | |
| | Outshone the sun that dazzling light it threw, | |
| | Hung from his neck a shield, was of Girunde, | |
| | And took his spear, was fashioned at Blandune. | |
| | On his good horse then mounted, Tencendur, | |
| | Which he had won at th'ford below Marsune | |
| | When he flung dead Malpalin of Nerbune, | |
| | Let go the reins, spurred him with either foot; | |
| | Five score thousand behind him as he flew, | |
| | Calling on God and the Apostle of Roum. | |
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| | Through all the field dismount the Frankish men, | |
| | Five-score thousand and more, they arm themselves; | |
| | The gear they have enhances much their strength, | |
| | Their horses swift, their arms are fashioned well; | |
| | Mounted they are, and fight with great science. | |
| | Find they that host, battle they'll render them. | |
| | Their gonfalons flutter above their helms. | |
| | When Charles sees the fair aspect of them, | |
| | He calls to him Jozeran of Provence, | |
| | Naimon the Duke, with Antelme of Maience: | |
| | "In such vassals should man have confidence, | |
| | Whom not to trust were surely want of sense; | |
| | Unless the Arabs of coming here repent, | |
| | Then Rollant's life, I think, we'll dearly sell." | |
| | Answers Duke Neimes: "God grant us his consent!" | |
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| | Charles hath called Rabel and Guineman; | |
| | Thus said the King: "My lords, you I command | |
| | To take their place, Olivier and Rollant, | |
| | One bear the sword and the other the olifant; | |
| | So canter forth ahead, before the van, | |
| | And in your train take fifteen thousand Franks, | |
| | Young bachelors, that are most valiant. | |
| | As many more shall after them advance, | |
| | Whom Gebuins shall lead, also Lorains." | |
| | Naimes the Duke and the count Jozerans | |
| | Go to adjust these columns in their ranks. | |
| | Find they that host, they'll make a grand attack. | |
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| | Of Franks the first columns made ready there, | |
| | After those two a third they next prepare; | |
| | In it are set the vassals of Baiviere, | |
| | Some thousand score high-prized chevaliers; | |
| | Never was lost the battle, where they were: | |
| | Charles for no race neath heaven hath more care, | |
| | Save those of France, who realms for him conquered. | |
| | The Danish chief, the warrior count Oger, | |
| | Shall lead that troop, for haughty is their air. | |
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| | Three columns now, he has, the Emperour Charles. | |
| | Naimes the Duke a fourth next sets apart | |
| | Of good barons, endowed with vassalage; | |
| | Germans they are, come from the German March, | |
| | A thousand score, as all said afterward; | |
| | They're well equipped with horses and with arms, | |
| | Rather they'll die than from the battle pass; | |
| | They shall be led by Hermans, Duke of Trace, | |
| | Who'll die before he's any way coward. | |
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| | Naimes the Duke and the count Jozerans | |
| | The fifth column have mustered, of Normans, | |
| | A thousand score, or so say all the Franks; | |
| | Well armed are they, their horses charge and prance; | |
| | Rather they'ld die, than eer be recreant; | |
| | No race neath heav'n can more in th'field compass. | |
| | Richard the old, lead them in th'field he shall, | |
| | He'll strike hard there with his good trenchant lance. | |
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| | The sixth column is mustered of Bretons; | |
| | Thirty thousand chevaliers therein come; | |
| | These canter in the manner of barons, | |
| | Upright their spears, their ensigns fastened on. | |
| | The overlord of them is named Oedon, | |
| | Who doth command the county Nevelon, | |
| | Tedbald of Reims and the marquis Oton: | |
| | "Lead ye my men, by my commission." | |
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| | That Emperour hath now six columns yare | |
| | Naimes the Duke the seventh next prepares | |
| | Of Peitevins and barons from Alverne; | |
| | Forty thousand chevaliers might be there; | |
| | Their horses good, their arms are all most fair. | |
| | They're neath a cliff, in a vale by themselves; | |
| | With his right hand King Charles hath them blessed, | |
| | Them Jozerans shall lead, also Godselmes. | |
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| | And the eighth column hath Naimes made ready; | |
| Tis of Flamengs, and barons out of Frise; | |
| | Forty thousand and more good knights are these, | |
| | Nor lost by them has any battle been. | |
| | And the King says: "These shall do my service." | |
| | Between Rembalt and Hamon of Galice | |
| | Shall they be led, for all their chivalry. | |
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| | Between Naimon and Jozeran the count | |
| | Are prudent men for the ninth column found, | |
| | Of Lotherengs and those out of Borgoune; | |
| | Fifty thousand good knights they are, by count; | |
| | In helmets laced and sarks of iron brown, | |
| | Strong are their spears, short are the shafts cut down; | |
| | If the Arrabits demur not, but come out | |
| | And trust themselves to these, they'll strike them down. | |
| | Tierris the Duke shall lead them, of Argoune. | |
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| | The tenth column is of barons of France, | |
| | Five score thousand of our best capitans; | |
| | Lusty of limb, and proud of countenance, | |
| | Snowy their heads are, and their beards are blanched, | |
| | In doubled sarks, and in hauberks they're clad, | |
| | Girt on their sides Frankish and Spanish brands | |
| | And noble shields of divers cognisance. | |
| | Soon as they mount, the battle they demand, | |
| | "Monjoie" they cry. With them goes Charlemagne. | |
| | Gefreid d'Anjou carries that oriflamme; | |
| | Saint Peter's twas, and bare the name Roman, | |
| | But on that day Monjoie, by change, it gat. | |
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| | That Emperour down from his horse descends; | |
| | To the green grass, kneeling, his face he bends. | |
| | Then turns his eyes towards the Orient, | |
| | Calls upon God with heartiest intent: | |
| | "Very Father, this day do me defend, | |
| | Who to Jonas succour didst truly send | |
| | Out of the whale's belly, where he was pent; | |
| | And who didst spare the king of Niniven, | |
| | And Daniel from marvellous torment | |
| | When he was caged within the lions' den; | |
| | And three children, all in a fire ardent: | |
| | Thy gracious Love to me be here present. | |
| | In Thy Mercy, if it please Thee, consent | |
| | That my nephew Rollant I may avenge. | |
| | When he had prayed, upon his feet he stepped, | |
| | With the strong mark of virtue signed his head; | |
| | Upon his swift charger the King mounted | |
| | While Jozerans and Neimes his stirrup held; | |
| | He took his shield, his trenchant spear he kept; | |
| | Fine limbs he had, both gallant and well set; | |
| | Clear was his face and filled with good intent. | |
| | Vigorously he cantered onward thence. | |
| | In front, in rear, they sounded their trumpets, | |
| | Above them all boomed the olifant again. | |
| | Then all the Franks for pity of Rollant wept. | |
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| | That Emperour canters in noble array, | |
| | Over his sark all of his beard displays; | |
| | For love of him, all others do the same, | |
| | Five score thousand Franks are thereby made plain. | |
| | They pass those peaks, those rocks and those mountains, | |
| | Those terrible narrows, and those deep vales, | |
| | Then issue from the passes and the wastes | |
| | Till they are come into the March of Spain; | |
| | A halt they've made, in th'middle of a plain. | |
| | To Baligant his vanguard comes again | |
| | A Sulian hath told him his message: | |
| | "We have seen Charles, that haughty sovereign; | |
| | Fierce are his men, they have no mind to fail. | |
| | Arm yourself then: Battle you'll have to-day." | |
| | Says Baligant: "Mine is great vassalage; | |
| | Let horns this news to my pagans proclaim." | |
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| | Through all the host they have their drums sounded, | |
| | And their bugles, and, very clear trumpets. | |
| | Pagans dismount, that they may arm themselves. | |
| | Their admiral will stay no longer then; | |
| | Puts on a sark, embroidered in the hems, | |
| | Laces his helm, that is with gold begemmed; | |
| | After, his sword on his left side he's set, | |
| | Out of his pride a name for it he's spelt | |
| | Like to Carlun's, as he has heard it said, | |
| | So Preciuse he bad his own be clept; | |
| | Twas their ensign when they to battle went, | |
| | His chevaliers'; he gave that cry to them. | |
| | His own broad shield he hangs upon his neck, | |
| | (Round its gold boss a band of crystal went, | |
| | The strap of it was a good silken web;) | |
| | He grasps his spear, the which he calls Maltet;— | |
| | So great its shaft as is a stout cudgel, | |
| | Beneath its steel alone, a mule had bent; | |
| | On his charger is Baligant mounted, | |
| | Marcules, from over seas, his stirrup held. | |
| | That warrior, with a great stride he stepped, | |
| | Small were his thighs, his ribs of wide extent, | |
| | Great was his breast, and finely fashioned, | |
| | With shoulders broad and very clear aspect; | |
| | Proud was his face, his hair was ringleted, | |
| | White as a flow'r in summer was his head. | |
| | His vassalage had often been proved. | |
| | God! what a knight, were he a Christian yet! | |
| | His horse he's spurred, the clear blood issued; | |
| | He's gallopped on, over a ditch he's leapt, | |
| | Full fifty feet a man might mark its breadth. | |
| | Pagans cry out: "Our Marches shall be held; | |
| | There is no Frank, may once with him contest, | |
| | Will he or nill, his life he'll soon have spent. | |
| | Charles is mad, that he departs not hence." | |
| AOI. | |
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| | That admiral to a baron's like enough, | |
| | White is his beard as flowers by summer burnt; | |
| | In his own laws, of wisdom hath he much; | |
| | And in battle he's proud and arduous. | |
| | His son Malprimes is very chivalrous, | |
| | He's great and strong;—his ancestors were thus. | |
| | Says to his sire: "To canter then let us! | |
| | I marvel much that soon we'll see Carlun." | |
| | Says Baligant: " Yea, for he's very pruff; | |
| | In many tales honour to him is done; | |
| | He hath no more Rollant, his sister's son, | |
| | He'll have no strength to stay in fight with us." | |
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| | "Fair son Malprimes," then says t'him Baligant, | |
| | "Was slain yestreen the good vassal Rollanz, | |
| | And Oliver, the proof and valiant, | |
| | The dozen peers, whom Charles so cherished, and | |
| | Twenty thousand more Frankish combatants. | |
| | For all the rest I'ld not unglove my hand. | |
| | But the Emperour is verily come back, | |
| | —So tells me now my man, that Sulian— | |
| | Ten great columns he's set them in their ranks; | |
| | He's a proof man who sounds that olifant, | |
| | With a clear call he rallies his comrades; | |
| | These at the head come cantering in advance, | |
| | Also with them are fifteen thousand Franks, | |
| | Young bachelors, whom Charles calls Infants; | |
| | As many again come following that band, | |
| | Who will lay on with utmost arrogance." | |
| | Then says Malprimes: "The first blow I demand." | |
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| | "Fair son Malprimes," says Baligant to him, | |
| | "I grant it you, as you have asked me this; | |
| | Against the Franks go now, and smite them quick. | |
| | And take with you Torleu, the Persian king | |
| | And Dapamort, another king Leutish. | |
| | Their arrogance if you can humble it, | |
| | Of my domains a slice to you I'll give | |
| | From Cheriant unto the Vale Marquis." | |
| | "I thank you, Sire!" Malprimes answers him; | |
| | Going before, he takes delivery; | |
| | 'Tis of that land, was held by king Flurit. | |
| | After that hour he never looked on it, | |
| | Investiture gat never, nor seizin. | |
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| | That admiral canters among his hosts; | |
| | After, his son with's great body follows, | |
| | Torleus the king, and the king Dapamort; | |
| | Thirty columns most speedily they form. | |
| | They've chevaliers in marvellous great force; | |
| | Fifty thousand the smallest column holds. | |
| | The first is raised of men from Butenrot, | |
| | The next, after, Micenes, whose heads are gross; | |
| | Along their backs, above their spinal bones, | |
| | As they were hogs, great bristles on them grow. | |
| | The third is raised from Nubles and from Blos; | |
| | The fourth is raised from Bruns and Esclavoz; | |
| | The fifth is raised from Sorbres and from Sorz; | |
| | The sixth is raised from Ermines and from Mors; | |
| | The seventh is the men of Jericho; | |
| | Negroes are the eighth; the ninth are men of Gros; | |
| | The tenth is raised from Balide the stronghold, | |
| | That is a tribe no goodwill ever shews. | |
| | That admiral hath sworn, the way he knows, | |
| | By Mahumet, his virtues and his bones: | |
| | "Charles of France is mad to canter so; | |
| | Battle he'll have, unless he take him home; | |
| | No more he'll wear on's head that crown of gold." | |
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| | Ten great columns they marshal thereafter; | |
| | Of Canelious, right ugly, is the first, | |
| | Who from Val-Fuit came across country there; | |
| | The next's of Turks; of Persians is the third; | |
| | The fourth is raised of desperate Pinceners, | |
| | The fifth is raised from Soltras and Avers; | |
| | The sixth is from Ormaleus and Eugez; | |
| | The seventh is the tribe of Samuel; | |
| | The eighth is from Bruise; the ninth from Esclavers; | |
| | The tenth is from Occiant, the desert, | |
| | That is a tribe, do not the Lord God serve, | |
| | Of such felons you never else have heard; | |
| | Hard is their hide, as though it iron were, | |
| | Wherefore of helm or hauberk they've no care; | |
| | In the battle they're felon murderers. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | That admiral ten columns more reviews; | |
| | The first is raised of Giants from Malpruse; | |
| | The next of Huns; the third a Hungar crew; | |
| | And from Baldise the Long the fourth have trooped; | |
| | The fifth is raised of men from Val-Penuse; | |
| | The sixth is raised of tribesmen from Maruse; | |
| | The seventh is from Leus and Astrimunes; | |
| | The eighth from Argoilles; the ninth is from Clarbune; | |
| | The tenth is raised of beardsmen from Val-Frunde, | |
| | That is a tribe, no love of God e'er knew. | |
| | Gesta Francor' these thirty columns prove. | |
| | Great are the hosts, their horns come sounding through. | |
| | Pagans canter as men of valour should. | |
| AOI. | |
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| | That admiral hath great possessions; | |
| | He makes them bear before him his dragon, | |
| | And their standard, Tervagan's and Mahom's, | |
| | And his image, Apollin the felon. | |
| | Ten Canelious canter in the environs, | |
| | And very loud the cry out this sermon: | |
| | "Let who would from our gods have garrison, | |
| | Serve them and pray with great affliction." | |
| | Pagans awhile their heads and faces on | |
| | Their breasts abase, their polished helmets doff. | |
| | And the Franks say: "Now shall you die, gluttons; | |
| | This day shall bring you vile confusion! | |
| | Give warranty, our God, unto Carlon! | |
| | And in his name this victory be won!" | |
| AOI. | |
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| | That admiral hath wisdom great indeed; | |
| | His son to him and those two kings calls he: | |
| | My lords barons, beforehand canter ye, | |
| | All my columns together shall you lead; | |
| | But of the best I'll keep beside me three: | |
| | One is of Turks; the next of Ormaleis; | |
| | And the third is the Giants of Malpreis. | |
| | And Occiant's, they'll also stay with me, | |
| | Until with Charles and with the Franks they meet. | |
| | That Emperour, if he combat with me, | |
| | Must lose his head, cut from his shoulders clean; | |
| | He may be sure naught else for him's decreed. | |
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