The Song of Roland Part 11

Then says Rollant: "Strong it is now, our battle; I'll wind my horn, so the King hears it, Charles."

Says Oliver: "That act were not a va.s.sal's.

When I implored you, comrade, you were wrathful.

Were the King here, we had not borne such damage.

Nor should we blame those with him there, his army."

Says Oliver: "Now by my beard, hereafter If I may see my gentle sister Alde, She in her arms, I swear, shall never clasp you."

AOI.

Cx.x.xI

Then says Rollanz: "Wherefore so wroth with me?"

He answers him: "Comrade, it was your deed: Va.s.salage comes by sense, and not folly; Prudence more worth is than stupidity.

Here are Franks dead, all for your trickery; No more service to Carlun may we yield.

My lord were here now, had you trusted me, And fought and won this battle then had we, Taken or slain were the king Marsilie.

In your prowess, Rollanz, no good we've seen!

Charles the great in vain your aid will seek-- None such as he till G.o.d His Judgement speak;-- Here must you die, and France in shame be steeped; Here perishes our loyal company, Before this night great severance and grief."

AOI.

Cx.x.xII

That Archbishop has heard them, how they spoke, His horse he p.r.i.c.ks with his fine spurs of gold, Coming to them he takes up his reproach: "Sir Oliver, and you, Sir Rollant, both, For G.o.d I pray, do not each other scold!

No help it were to us, the horn to blow, But, none the less, it may be better so; The King will come, with vengeance that he owes; These Spanish men never away shall go.

Our Franks here, each descending from his horse, Will find us dead, and limb from body torn; They'll take us hence, on biers and litters borne; With pity and with grief for us they'll mourn; They'll bury each in some old minster-close; No wolf nor swine nor dog shall gnaw our bones."

Answers Rollant: "Sir, very well you spoke."

AOI.

Cx.x.xIII

Rollant hath set the olifant to his mouth, He grasps it well, and with great virtue sounds.

High are those peaks, afar it rings and loud, Thirty great leagues they hear its echoes mount.

So Charles heard, and all his comrades round; Then said that King: "Battle they do, our counts!"

And Guenelun answered, contrarious: "That were a lie, in any other mouth."

AOI.

CXXIV

The Count Rollanz, with sorrow and with pangs, And with great pain sounded his olifant: Out of his mouth the clear blood leaped and ran, About his brain the very temples cracked.

Loud is its voice, that horn he holds in hand; Charles hath heard, where in the pa.s.s he stands, And Neimes hears, and listen all the Franks.

Then says the King: "I hear his horn, Rollant's; He'ld never sound, but he were in combat."

Answers him Guenes "It is no battle, that.

Now are you old, blossoming white and blanched, Yet by such words you still appear infant.

You know full well the great pride of Rollant Marvel it is, G.o.d stays so tolerant.

Noples he took, not waiting your command; Thence issued forth the Sarrazins, a band With va.s.salage had fought against Rollant; A He slew them first, with Durendal his brand, Then washed their blood with water from the land; So what he'd done might not be seen of man.

He for a hare goes all day, horn in hand; Before his peers in foolish jest he brags.

No race neath heav'n in field him dare attack.

So canter on! Nay, wherefore hold we back?

Terra Major is far away, our land."

AOI.

Cx.x.xV

The count Rollanz, though blood his mouth doth stain, And burst are both the temples of his brain, His olifant he sounds with grief and pain; Charles hath heard, listen the Franks again.

"That horn," the King says, "hath a mighty strain!"

Answers Duke Neimes: "A baron blows with pain!

Battle is there, indeed I see it plain, He is betrayed, by one that still doth feign.

Equip you, sir, cry out your old refrain, That n.o.ble band, go succour them amain!

Enough you've heard how Rollant doth complain."

CXXVI

That Emperour hath bid them sound their horns.

The Franks dismount, and dress themselves for war, Put hauberks on, helmets and golden swords; Fine s.h.i.+elds they have, and spears of length and force Scarlat and blue and white their ensigns float.

His charger mounts each baron of the host; They spur with haste as through the pa.s.s they go.

Nor was there one but thus to 's neighbour spoke: "Now, ere he die, may we see Rollant, so Ranged by his side we'll give some goodly blows."

But what avail? They've stayed too long below.

CCx.x.xVII

That even-tide is light as was the day; Their armour s.h.i.+nes beneath the sun's clear ray, Hauberks and helms throw off a dazzling flame, And blazoned s.h.i.+elds, flowered in bright array, Also their spears, with golden ensigns gay.

That Emperour, he canters on with rage, And all the Franks with wonder and dismay; There is not one can bitter tears restrain, And for Rollant they're very sore afraid.

The King has bid them seize that county Guene, And charged with him the scullions of his train; The master-cook he's called, Besgun by name: "Guard me him well, his felony is plain, Who in my house vile treachery has made."

He holds him, and a hundred others takes From the kitchen, both good and evil knaves; Then Guenes beard and both his cheeks they shaved, And four blows each with their closed fists they gave, They trounced him well with cudgels and with staves, And on his neck they clasped an iron chain; So like a bear enchained they held him safe, On a pack-mule they set him in his shame: Kept him till Charles should call for him again.

AOI.

Cx.x.xVIII

High were the peaks and shadowy and grand, The valleys deep, the rivers swiftly ran.

Trumpets they blew in rear and in the van, Till all again answered that olifant.

That Emperour canters with fury mad, And all the Franks dismay and wonder have; There is not one but weeps and waxes sad And all pray G.o.d that He will guard Rollant Till in the field together they may stand; There by his side they'll strike as well they can.

But what avail? No good there is in that; They're not in time; too long have they held back.

AOI.

Cx.x.xIX

In his great rage on canters Charlemagne; Over his sark his beard is flowing plain.

Barons of France, in haste they spur and strain; There is not one that can his wrath contain That they are not with Rollant the Captain, Whereas he fights the Sarrazins of Spain.

If he be struck, will not one soul remain.

--G.o.d! Sixty men are all now in his train!

Never a king had better Capitains.

AOI.

CXL

Rollant regards the barren mountain-sides; Dead men of France, he sees so many lie, And weeps for them as fits a gentle knight: "Lords and barons, may G.o.d to you be kind!

And all your souls redeem for Paradise!

And let you there mid holy flowers lie!

Better va.s.sals than you saw never I.

Ever you've served me, and so long a time, By you Carlon hath conquered kingdoms wide; That Emperour reared you for evil plight!

Douce land of France, o very precious clime, Laid desolate by such a sour exile!

Barons of France, for me I've seen you die, And no support, no warrant could I find; G.o.d be your aid, Who never yet hath lied!