The Song of Roland Part 22

Pagan Arabs coyly themselves contain; That Emperour calls on his Franks again: "Say, barons, come, support me, in G.o.d's Name!"

Answer the Franks, "Question you make in vain; All felon he that dares not exploits brave!"

AOI.

CCLVIII

Pa.s.ses that day, turns into vesper-tide.

Franks and pagans still with their swords do strike.

Brave va.s.sals they, who brought those hosts to fight, Never have they forgotten their ensigns; That admiral still "Preciuse" doth cry, Charles "Monjoie," renowned word of pride.

Each the other knows by his clear voice and high; Amid the field they're both come into sight, Then, as they go, great blows on either side They with their spears on their round targes strike; And shatter them, beneath their buckles wide; And all the folds of their hauberks divide; But bodies, no; wound them they never might.

Broken their girths, downwards their saddles slide; Both those Kings fall, themselves aground do find; Nimbly enough upon their feet they rise; Most va.s.sal-like they draw their swords outright.

From this battle they'll ne'er be turned aside Nor make an end, without that one man die.

AOI.

CCLIX

A great va.s.sal was Charles, of France the Douce; That admiral no fear nor caution knew.

Those swords they had, bare from their sheaths they drew; Many great blows on 's s.h.i.+eld each gave and took; The leather pierced, and doubled core of wood; Down fell the nails, the buckles brake in two; Still they struck on, bare in their sarks they stood.

From their bright helms the light shone forth anew.

Finish nor fail that battle never could But one of them must in the wrong be proved.

AOI.

CCLX

Says the admiral: "Nay, Charles, think, I beg, And counsel take that t'wards me thou repent!

Thou'st slain my son, I know that very well; Most wrongfully my land thou challengest; Become my man, a fief from me thou'lt get; Come, serving me, from here to the Orient!"

Charle answers him: "That were most vile offence; No peace nor love may I to pagan lend.

Receive the Law that G.o.d to us presents, Christianity, and then I'll love thee well; Serve and believe the King Omnipotent!"

Says Baligant: "Evil sermon thou saist."

They go to strikewith th'swords, are on their belts.

AOI.

CCLXI

In the admiral is much great virtue found; He strikes Carlun on his steel helm so brown, Has broken it and rent, above his brow, Through his thick hair the sword goes glancing round, A great palm's breadth and more of flesh cuts out, So that all bare the bone is, in that wound.

Charles tottereth, falls nearly to the ground; G.o.d wills not he be slain or overpow'red.

Saint Gabriel once more to him comes down, And questions him "Great King, what doest thou?"

CCLXII

Charles, hearing how that holy Angel spake, Had fear of death no longer, nor dismay; Remembrance and a fresh vigour he's gained.

So the admiral he strikes with France's blade, His helmet breaks, whereon the jewels blaze, Slices his head, to scatter all his brains, And, down unto the white beard, all his face; So he falls dead, recovers not again.

"Monjoie," cries Charles, that all may know the tale.

Upon that word is come to him Duke Naimes, Holds Tencendur, bids mount that King so Great.

Pagans turn back, G.o.d wills not they remain.

And Franks have all their wish, be that what may.

CCLXIII

Pagans are fled, ev'n as the Lord G.o.d wills; Chase them the Franks, and the Emperour therewith.

Says the King then: "My Lords, avenge your ills, Unto your hearts' content, do what you will!

For tears, this morn, I saw your eyes did spill."

Answer the Franks: "Sir, even so we will."

Then such great blows, as each may strike, he gives That few escape, of those remain there still.

CCLXIV

Great was the heat, the dust arose and blew; Still pagans fled, and hotly Franks pursued.

The chase endured from there to Sarraguce.

On her tower, high up clomb Bramimunde, Around her there the clerks and canons stood Of the false law, whom G.o.d ne'er loved nor knew; Orders they'd none, nor were their heads tonsured.

And when she saw those Arrabits confused Aloud she cried: "Give us your aid, Mahume!

Ah! n.o.ble king, conquered are all our troops, And the admiral to shameful slaughter put!"

When Marsile heard, towards the wall he looked, Wept from his eyes, and all his body stooped, So died of grief. With sins he's so corrupt; The soul of him to h.e.l.l live devils took.

CCLXV

Pagans are slain; the rest are put to rout Whom Charles hath in battle overpowered.

Of Sarraguce the gates he's battered down, For well he knows there's no defence there now; In come his men, he occupies that town; And all that night they lie there in their pow'r.

Fierce is that King, with 's h.o.a.ry beard, and proud, And Bramimunde hath yielded up her towers; But ten ere great, and lesser fifty around.

Great exploits his whom the Lord G.o.d endows!

CCLXVI

Pa.s.ses the day, the darkness is grown deep, But all the stars burn, and the moon s.h.i.+nes clear.

And Sarraguce is in the Emperour's keep.

A thousand Franks he bids seek through the streets, The synagogues and the mahumeries; With iron malls and axes which they wield They break the idols and all the imageries; So there remain no fraud nor falsity.

That King fears G.o.d, and would do His service, On water then Bishops their blessing speak, And pagans bring into the baptistry.

If any Charles with contradiction meet Then hanged or burned or slaughtered shall he be.

Five score thousand and more are thus redeemed, Very Christians; save that alone the queen To France the Douce goes in captivity; By love the King will her conversion seek.

CCLXVII

Pa.s.ses the night, the clear day opens now.

Of Sarraguce Charles garrisons the tow'rs; A thousand knights he's left there, fighters stout; Who guard that town as bids their Emperour.

After, the King and all his army mount, And Bramimunde a prisoner is bound, No harm to her, but only good he's vowed.

So are they come, with joy and gladness out, They pa.s.s Nerbone by force and by vigour, Come to Burdele, that city of high valour.

Above the altar, to Saint Sevrin endowed, Stands the olifant, with golden pieces bound; All the pilgrims may see it, who thither crowd.

Pa.s.sing Girunde in great s.h.i.+ps, there abound, Ev'n unto Blaive he's brought his nephew down And Oliver, his n.o.ble companioun, And the Archbishop, who was so wise and proud.

In white coffers he bids them lay those counts At Saint Romain: So rest they in that ground.

Franks them to G.o.d and to His Angels vow.

Charles canters on, by valleys and by mounts, Not before Aix will he not make sojourn; Canters so far, on th'terrace he dismounts.

When he is come into his lofty house, By messengers he seeks his judges out; Saxons, Baivers, Lotherencs and Frisouns, Germans he calls, and also calls Borgounds; From Normandy, from Brittany and Poitou, And those in France that are the sagest found.

Thereon begins the cause of Gueneloun.

CCLXVIII

That Emperour, returning out of Spain, Arrived in France, in his chief seat, at Aix, Clomb to th' Palace, into the hall he came.

Was come to him there Alde, that fair dame; Said to the King: "Where's Rollanz the Captain, Who sware to me, he'ld have me for his mate?"

Then upon Charles a heavy sorrow weighed, And his eyes wept, he tore his beard again: "Sister, dear friend, of a dead man you spake.

I'll give you one far better in exchange, That is Loewis, what further can I say; He is my son, and shall my marches take."