That Emperour hath chosen his bivouac;The Franks dismount in those deserted tracts,Their saddles take from off their horses' backs,Bridles of gold from off their heads unstrap,Let them go free; there is enough fresh grass—No service can they render them, save that.Who is most tired sleeps on the ground stretched flat.Upon this night no sentinels keep watch.
That Emperour is lying in a mead;By's head, so brave, he's placed his mighty spear;On such a night unarmed he will not be.He's donned his white hauberk, with broidery,Has laced his helm, jewelled with golden beads,Girt on Joiuse, there never was its peer,Whereon each day thirty fresh hues appear.All of us know that lance, and well may speakWhereby Our Lord was wounded on the Tree:Charles, by God's grace, possessed its point of steel!His golden hilt he enshrined it underneath.By that honour and by that sanctityThe name Joiuse was for that sword decreed.Barons of France may not forgetful beWhence comes the ensign "Monjoie," they cry at need;Wherefore no race against them can succeed.
Clear was the night, the moon shone radiant.Charles laid him down, but sorrow for RollantAnd Oliver, most heavy on him he had,For's dozen peers, for all the Frankish bandHe had left dead in bloody Rencesvals;He could not help, but wept and waxed mad,And prayed to God to be their souls' Warrant.Weary that King, or grief he's very sad;He falls on sleep, he can no more withstand.Through all those meads they slumber then, the Franks;Is not a horse can any longer stand,Who would eat grass, he takes it lying flat.He has learned much, can understand their pangs.
Charles, like a man worn out with labour, slept.Saint Gabriel the Lord to him hath sent,Whom as a guard o'er the Emperour he set;Stood all night long that angel by his head.In a vision announced he to him thenA battle, should be fought against him yet,Significance of griefs demonstrated.Charles looked up towards the sky, and thereThunders and winds and blowing gales beheld,And hurricanes and marvellous tempests;Lightnings and flames he saw in readiness,That speedily on all his people fell;Apple and ash, their spear-shafts all burned,Also their shields, e'en the golden bosses,Crumbled the shafts of their trenchant lances,Crushed their hauberks and all their steel helmets.His chevaliers he saw in great distress.Bears and leopards would feed upon them next;Adversaries, dragons, wyverns, serpents,Griffins were there, thirty thousand, no less,Nor was there one but on some Frank it set.And the Franks cried: "Ah! Charlemagne, give help!"Wherefore the King much grief and pity felt,He'ld go to them but was in duress kept:Out of a wood came a great lion then,'Twas very proud and fierce and terrible;His body dear sought out, and on him leapt,Each in his arms, wrestling, the other held;But he knew not which conquered, nor which fell.That Emperour woke not at all, but slept.
And, after that, another vision came:Himseemed in France, at Aix, on a terrace,And that he held a bruin by two chains;Out of Ardenne saw thirty bears that came,And each of them words, as a man might, spakeSaid to him: "Sire, give him to us again!It is not right that he with you remain,He's of our kin, and we must lend him aid."A harrier fair ran out of his palace,Among them all the greatest bear assailedOn the green grass, beyond his friends some way.There saw the King marvellous give and take;But he knew not which fell, nor which o'ercame.The angel of God so much to him made plain.Charles slept on till the clear dawn of day.
King Marsilies, fleeing to Sarraguce,Dismounted there beneath an olive cool;His sword and sark and helm aside he put,On the green grass lay down in shame and gloom;For his right hand he'd lost, 'twas clean cut through;Such blood he'd shed, in anguish keen he swooned.Before his face his lady BramimundeBewailed and cried, with very bitter rue;Twenty thousand and more around him stood,All of them cursed Carlun and France the Douce.Then Apollin in's grotto they surround,And threaten him, and ugly words pronounce:"Such shame on us, vile god!, why bringest thou?This is our king; wherefore dost him confound?Who served thee oft, ill recompense hath found."Then they take off his sceptre and his crown,With their hands hang him from a column down,Among their feet trample him on the ground,With great cudgels they batter him and trounce.From Tervagant his carbuncle they impound,And Mahumet into a ditch fling out,Where swine and dogs defile him and devour.
Out of his swoon awakens Marsilies,And has him borne his vaulted roof beneath;Many colours were painted there to see,And Bramimunde laments for him, the queen,Tearing her hair; caitiff herself she clepes;Also these words cries very loud and clear:"Ah! Sarraguce, henceforth forlorn thou'lt beOf the fair king that had thee in his keep!All those our gods have wrought great felony,Who in battle this morning failed at need.That admiral will shew his cowardice,Unless he fight against that race hardy,Who are so fierce, for life they take no heed.That Emperour, with his blossoming beard,Hath vassalage, and very high folly;Battle to fight, he will not ever flee.Great grief it is, no man may slay him clean."
That Emperour, by his great Majesty,I Full seven years in Spain now has he been,And castles there, and many cities seized.King Marsilies was therefore sore displeased;In the first year he sealed and sent his briefTo Baligant, into Babilonie:('Twas the admiral, old in antiquity,That clean outlived Omer and Virgilie,)To Sarraguce, with succour bade him speed,For, if he failed, Marsile his gods would leave,All his idols he worshipped formerly;He would receive blest ChristianityAnd reconciled to Charlemagne would be.Long time that one came not, far off was he.Through forty realms he did his tribes rally;His great dromonds, he made them all ready,Barges and skiffs and ships and galleries;Neath Alexandre, a haven next the sea,In readiness he gat his whole navy.That was in May, first summer of the year,All of his hosts he launched upon the sea.
Great are the hosts of that opposed race;With speed they sail, they steer and navigate.High on their yards, at their mast-heads they placeLanterns enough, and carbuncles so greatThence, from above, such light they dissipateThe sea's more clear at midnight than by day.And when they come into the land of SpainAll that country lightens and shines again:Of their coming Marsile has heard the tale.AOI.
The pagan race would never rest, but comeOut of the sea, where the sweet waters run;They leave Marbris, they leave behind Marbrus,Upstream by Sebre doth all their navy turn.Lanterns they have, and carbuncles enough,That all night long and very clearly burn.Upon that day they come to Sarragus.AOI.
Clear is that day, and the sun radiant.Out of his barge issues their admiral,Espaneliz goes forth at his right hand,Seventeen kings follow him in a band,Counts too, and dukes; I cannot tell of that.Where in a field, midway, a laurel stands,On the green grass they spread a white silk mat,Set a fald-stool there, made of olifant;Sits him thereon the pagan Baligant,And all the rest in rows about him stand.The lord of them speaks before any man:"Listen to me, free knights and valiant!Charles the King, the Emperour of the Franks,Shall not eat bread, save when that I command.Throughout all Spain great war with me he's had;I will go seek him now, into Douce France,I will not cease, while I'm a living man,Till be slain, or fall between my hands."Upon his knee his right-hand glove he slaps.
He is fast bound by all that he has said.He will not fail, for all the gold neath heav'n,But go to Aix, where Charles court is held:His men applaud, for so they counselled.After he called two of his chevaliers,One Clarifan, and the other Clarien:"You are the sons of king Maltraien,Freely was, wont my messages to bear.You I command to Sarraguce to fare.Marsiliun on my part you shall tellAgainst the Franks I'm come to give him help,Find I their host, great battle shall be there;Give him this glove, that's stitched with golden thread,On his right hand let it be worn and held;This little wand of fine gold take as well,Bid him come here, his homage to declare.To France I'll go, and war with Charles again;Save at my feet he kneel, and mercy beg,Save all the laws of Christians he forget,I'll take away the crown from off his head."Answer pagans: "Sire, you say very well."
Said Baligant: "But canter now, barons,Take one the wand, and the other one the glove!"These answer him: "Dear lord, it shall be done."Canter so far, to Sarraguce they come,Pass through ten gates, across four bridges run,Through all the streets, wherein the burghers crowd.When they draw nigh the citadel above,From the palace they hear a mighty sound;About that place are seen pagans enough,Who weep and cry, with grief are waxen wood,And curse their gods, Tervagan and MahumAnd Apolin, from whom no help is come.Says each to each: "Caitiffs! What shall be done?For upon us confusion vile is come,Now have we lost our king Marsiliun,For yesterday his hand count Rollanz cut;We'll have no more Fair Jursaleu, his son;The whole of Spain henceforward is undone."Both messengers on the terrace dismount.
Horses they leave under an olive tree,Which by the reins two Sarrazins do lead;Those messengers have wrapped them in their weeds,To the palace they climb the topmost steep.When they're come in, the vaulted roof beneath,Marsilium with courtesy they greet:"May Mahumet, who all of us doth keep,And Tervagan, and our lord ApolinePreserve the, king and guard from harm the queen!"Says Bramimunde "Great foolishness I hear:Those gods of ours in cowardice are steeped;In Rencesvals they wrought an evil deed,Our chevaliers they let be slain in heaps;My lord they failed in battle, in his need,Never again will he his right hand see;For that rich count, Rollanz, hath made him bleed.All our whole Spain shall be for Charles to keep.Miserable! What shall become of me?Alas! That I've no man to slay me clean!"AOI.
Says Clarien: "My lady, say not that!We're messengers from pagan Baligant;To Marsilies, he says, he'll be warrant,So sends him here his glove, also this wand.Vessels we have, are moored by Sebres bank,Barges and skiffs and gallies four thousand,Dromonds are there—I cannot speak of that.Our admiral is wealthy and puissant.And Charlemagne he will go seek through FranceAnd quittance give him, dead or recreant."Says Bramimunde: "Unlucky journey, that!Far nearer here you'll light upon the Franks;For seven years he's stayed now in this land.That Emperour is bold and combatant,Rather he'ld die than from the field draw back;No king neath heav'n above a child he ranks.Charles hath no fear for any living man.
Says Marsilies the king: "Now let that be."To th'messengers: "Sirs, pray you, speak to me.I am held fast by death, as ye may see.No son have I nor daughter to succeed;That one I had, they slew him yester-eve.Bid you my lord, he come to see me here.Rights over Spain that admiral hath he,My claim to him, if he will take't, I yield;But from the Franks he then must set her free.Gainst Charlemagne I'll shew him strategy.Within a month from now he'll conquered be.Of Sarraguce ye'll carry him the keys,He'll go not hence, say, if he trusts in me."They answer him: "Sir, 'tis the truth you speak."AOI.
Then says Marsile: "The Emperour, Charles the GreatHath slain my men and all my land laid waste,My cities are broken and violate;He lay this night upon the river Sebre;I've counted well, 'tis seven leagues away.Bid the admiral, leading his host this way,Do battle here; this word to him convey."Gives them the keys of Sarraguce her gates;Both messengers their leave of him do take,Upon that word bow down, and turn away.
Both messengers did on their horses mount;From that city nimbly they issued out.Then, sore afraid, their admiral they sought,To whom the keys of Sarraguce they brought.Says Baligant: "Speak now; what have ye found?Where's Marsilies, to come to me was bound?"Says Clarien: "To death he's stricken down.That Emperour was in the pass but now;To France the Douce he would be homeward-bound,Rereward he set, to save his great honour:His nephew there installed, Rollanz the count,And Oliver; the dozen peers around;A thousand score of Franks in armour found.Marsile the king fought with them there, so proud;He and Rollanz upon that field did joust.With Durendal he dealt him such a cloutFrom his body he cut the right hand down.His son is dead, in whom his heart was bound,And the barons that service to him vowed;Fleeing he came, he could no more hold out.That Emperour has chased him well enow.The king implores, you'll hasten with succour,Yields to you Spain, his kingdom and his crown."And Baligant begins to think, and frowns;Such grief he has, doth nearly him confound.AOI.
"Sir admiral," said to him Clariens,"In Rencesvals was yesterday battle.Dead is Rollanz and that count Oliver,The dozen peers whom Charle so cherished,And of their Franks are twenty thousand dead.King Marsilie's of his right hand bereft,And the Emperour chased him enow from thence.Throughout this land no chevalier is left,But he be slain, or drowned in Sebres bed.By river side the Franks have pitched their tents,Into this land so near to us they've crept;But, if you will, grief shall go with them hence."And Baligant looked on him proudly then,In his courage grew joyous and content;From the fald-stool upon his feet he leapt,Then cried aloud: "Barons, too long ye've slept;Forth from your ships issue, mount, canter well!If he flee not, that Charlemagne the eld,King Marsilies shall somehow be avenged;For his right hand I'll pay him back an head."
Pagan Arabs out of their ships issue,Then mount upon their horses and their mules,And canter forth, (nay, what more might they do?)Their admiral, by whom they all were ruled,Called up to him Gemalfin, whom he knew:"I give command of all my hosts to you."On a brown horse mounted, as he was used,And in his train he took with him four dukes.Cantered so far, he came to Sarraguce.Dismounted on a floor of marble blue,Where four counts were, who by his stirrup stood;Up by the steps, the palace came into;To meet him there came running Bramimunde,Who said to him: "Accursed from the womb,That in such shame my sovran lord I lose!Fell at his feet, that admiral her took.In grief they came up into Marsile's room.AOI.
King Marsilies, when he sees Baligant,Calls to him then two Spanish Sarazands:"Take me by the arms, and so lift up my back."One of his gloves he takes in his left hand;Then says Marsile: "Sire, king and admiral,Quittance I give you here of all my land,With Sarraguce, and the honour thereto hangs.Myself I've lost; my army, every man."He answers him: "Therefore the more I'm sad.No long discourse together may we have;Full well I know, Charles waits not our attack,I take the glove from you, in spite of that."He turned away in tears, such grief he had.Down by the steps, out of the palace ran,Mounted his horse, to's people gallopped back.Cantered so far, he came before his band;From hour to hour then, as he went, he sang:"Pagans, come on: already flee the Franks!"AOI.
In morning time, when the dawn breaks at last,Awakened is that Emperour Charles.Saint Gabriel, who on God's part him guards,Raises his hand, the Sign upon him marks.Rises the King, his arms aside he's cast,The others then, through all the host, disarm.After they mount, by virtue canter fastThrough those long ways, and through those roads so large;They go to see the marvellous damageIn Rencesvals, there where the battle was.AOI.
In Rencesvals is Charles entered,Begins to weep for those he finds there dead;Says to the Franks: "My lords, restrain your steps,Since I myself alone should go ahead,For my nephew, whom I would find again.At Aix I was, upon the feast Noel,Vaunted them there my valiant chevaliers,Of battles great and very hot contests;With reason thus I heard Rollant speak then:He would not die in any foreign realmEre he'd surpassed his peers and all his men.To the foes' land he would have turned his head,Conqueringly his gallant life he'ld end."Further than one a little wand could send,Before the rest he's on a peak mounted.
When the Emperour went seeking his nephew,He found the grass, and every flower that bloomed,Turned scarlat, with our barons' blood imbrued;Pity he felt, he could but weep for rue.Beneath two trees he climbed the hill and looked,And Rollant's strokes on three terraces knew,On the green grass saw lying his nephew;`Tis nothing strange that Charles anger grew.Dismounted then, and went—his heart was full,In his two hands the count's body he took;With anguish keen he fell on him and swooned.
That Emperour is from his swoon revived.Naimes the Duke, and the count Aceline,Gefrei d'Anjou and his brother Tierry,Take up the King, bear him beneath a pine.There on the ground he sees his nephew lie.Most sweetly then begins he to repine:"Rollant, my friend, may God to thee be kind!Never beheld any man such a knightSo to engage and so to end a fight.Now my honour is turned into decline!"Charle swoons again, he cannot stand upright.AOI.
Charles the King returned out of his swoon.Him in their hands four of his barons took,He looked to the earth, saw lying his nephew;All colourless his lusty body grew,He turned his eyes, were very shadowful.Charles complained in amity and truth:"Rollant, my friend, God lay thee mid the bloomsOf Paradise, among the glorious!Thou cam'st to Spain in evil tide, seigneur!Day shall not dawn, for thee I've no dolour.How perishes my strength and my valour!None shall I have now to sustain my honour;I think I've not one friend neath heaven's roof,Kinsmen I have, but none of them's so proof."He tore his locks, till both his hands were full.Five score thousand Franks had such great dolourThere was not one but sorely wept for rue.AOI.
"Rollant, my friend, to France I will away;When at Loum, I'm in my hall again,Strange men will come from many far domains,Who'll ask me, where's that count, the Capitain;I'll say to them that he is dead in Spain.In bitter grief henceforward shall I reign,Day shall not dawn, I weep not nor complain.
"Rollant, my friend, fair youth that bar'st the bell,When I arrive at Aix, in my Chapelle,Men coming there will ask what news I tell;I'll say to them: `Marvellous news and fell.My nephew's dead, who won for me such realms!'Against me then the Saxon will rebel,Hungar, Bulgar, and many hostile men,Romain, Puillain, all those are in Palerne,And in Affrike, and those in Califerne;Afresh then will my pain and suffrance swell.For who will lead my armies with such strength,When he is slain, that all our days us led?Ah! France the Douce, now art thou deserted!Such grief I have that I would fain be dead."All his white beard he hath begun to rend,Tore with both hands the hair out of his head.Five score thousand Franks swooned on the earth and fell.
"Rollant, my friend, God shew thee His mercy!In Paradise repose the soul of thee!Who hath thee slain, exile for France decreed.I'ld live no more, so bitter is my griefFor my household, who have been slain for me.God grant me this, the Son of Saint Mary,Ere I am come to th' master-pass of Size,From my body my soul at length go free!Among their souls let mine in glory be,And let my flesh upon their flesh be heaped."Still his white beard he tears, and his eyes weep.Duke Naimes says: "His wrath is great indeed."AOI.
"Sire, Emperour," Gefrei d'Anjou implored,"Let not your grief to such excess be wrought;Bid that our men through all this field be sought,Whom those of Spain have in the battle caught;In a charnel command that they be borne."Answered the King: "Sound then upon your horn."AOI.
Gefreid d'Anjou upon his trumpet sounds;As Charles bade them, all the Franks dismount.All of their friends, whose bodies they have foundTo a charnel speedily the bring down.Bishops there are, and abbots there enow,Canons and monks, vicars with shaven crowns;Absolution in God's name they've pronounced;Incense and myrrh with precious gums they've ground,And lustily they've swung the censers round;With honour great they've laid them in the ground.They've left them there; what else might they do now?AOI.
That Emperour sets Rollant on one sideAnd Oliver, and the Archbishop Turpine;Their bodies bids open before his eyes.And all their hearts in silken veils to wind,And set them in coffers of marble white;After, they take the bodies of those knights,Each of the three is wrapped in a deer's hide;They're washen well in allspice and in wine.The King commands Tedbalt and Gebuin,Marquis Otun, Milun the count besides:Along the road in three wagons to drive.They're covered well with carpets Galazine.AOI.
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.
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 MarsuneWhen 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.AOI.
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!"AOI.
Charles hath called Rabel and Guineman;Thus said the King: "My lords, you I commandTo 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 JozeransGo to adjust these columns in their ranks.Find they that host, they'll make a grand attack.AOI.
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.AOI.
Three columns now, he has, the Emperour Charles.Naimes the Duke a fourth next sets apartOf 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.AOI.
Naimes the Duke and the count JozeransThe 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.AOI.
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."AOI.
That Emperour hath now six columns yareNaimes the Duke the seventh next preparesOf 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.AOI.
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 GaliceShall they be led, for all their chivalry.AOI.
Between Naimon and Jozeran the countAre 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 outAnd trust themselves to these, they'll strike them down.Tierris the Duke shall lead them, of Argoune.AOI.
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 brandsAnd 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.AOI.
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 sendOut of the whale's belly, where he was pent;And who didst spare the king of Niniven,And Daniel from marvellous tormentWhen 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, consentThat 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 mountedWhile 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.
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 wastesTill they are come into the March of Spain;A halt they've made, in th'middle of a plain.To Baligant his vanguard comes againA 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."
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 speltLike 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.
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."AOI.
"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, andTwenty 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."AOI.
"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 kingAnd Dapamort, another king Leutish.Their arrogance if you can humble it,Of my domains a slice to you I'll giveFrom 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.
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."
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.
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.
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 onTheir 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.
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.AOI.
Great are the hosts, and all the columns fair,No peak nor vale nor cliff between them there,Thicket nor wood, nor ambush anywhere;Across the plain they see each other well.Says Baligant: "My pagan tribes adverse,Battle to seek, canter ye now ahead!"Carries the ensign Amboires of Oluferne;Pagans cry out, by Preciuse they swear.And the Franks say: "Great hurt this day you'll get!"And very loud "Monjoie!" they cry again.That Emperour has bid them sound trumpets;And the olifant sounds over all its knell.The pagans say: "Carlun's people are fair.Battle we'll have, bitter and keenly set."AOI.
Great is that plain, and wide is that country;Their helmets shine with golden jewellery,Also their sarks embroidered and their shields,And the ensigns fixed on all their burnished spears.The trumpets sound, their voice is very clear,And the olifant its echoing music speaks.Then the admiral, his brother calleth he,'Tis Canabeus, the king of Floredee,Who holds the land unto the Vale Sevree;He's shewn to him Carlun's ten companies:"The pride of France, renowned land, you see.That Emperour canters right haughtily,His bearded men are with him in the rear;Over their sarks they have thrown out their beardsWhich are as white as driven snows that freeze.Strike us they will with lances and with spears:Battle with them we'll have, prolonged and keen;Never has man beheld such armies meet."Further than one might cast a rod that's peeledGoes Baligant before his companies.His reason then he's shewn to them, and speaks:"Pagans, come on; for now I take the field."His spear in hand he brandishes and wields,Towards Carlun has turned the point of steel.AOI.
Charles the Great, when he sees the admiralAnd the dragon, his ensign and standard;—(In such great strength are mustered those ArabsOf that country they've covered every partSave only that whereon the Emperour was.)The King of France in a loud voice has called:"Barons and Franks, good vassals are ye all,Ye in the field have fought so great combats;See the pagans; they're felons and cowards,No pennyworth is there in all their laws.Though they've great hosts, my lords, what matters that?Let him go hence, who'ld fail me in the attack."Next with both spurs he's gored his horse's flanks,And Tencendor has made four bounds thereat.Then say the Franks: "This King's a good vassal.Canter, brave lord, for none of us holds back."
Clear is the day, and the sun radiant;The hosts are fair, the companies are grand.The first columns are come now hand to hand.The count Rabel and the count GuinemansLet fall the reins on their swift horses' backs,Spurring in haste; then on rush all the Franks,And go to strike, each with his trenchant lance.AOI.
That count Rabel, he was a hardy knight,He pricked his horse with spurs of gold so fine,The Persian king, Torleu, he went to strike.Nor shield nor sark could such a blow abide;The golden spear his carcass passed inside;Flung down upon a little bush, he died.Then say the Franks: "Lord God, be Thou our Guide!Charles we must not fail; his cause is right."AOI.
And Guineman tilts with the king Leutice;Has broken all the flowers on his shield,Next of his sark he has undone the seam,All his ensign thrust through the carcass clean,So flings him dead, let any laugh or weep.Upon that blow, the Franks cry out with heat:"Strike on, baron, nor slacken in your speed!Charle's in the right against the pagan breed;God sent us here his justice to complete."AOI.
Pure white the horse whereon Malprimes sate;Guided his corse amid the press of Franks,Hour in, hour out, great blows he struck them back,And, ever, dead one upon others packed.Before them all has cried out Baligant:"Barons, long time I've fed you at my hand.Ye see my son, who goes on Carlun's track,And with his arms so many lords attacks;Better vassal than him I'll not demand.Go, succour him, each with his trenchant lance!"Upon that word the pagans all advance;Grim blows they strike, the slaughter's very grand.And marvellous and weighty the combat:Before nor since was never such attack.AOI.
Great are the hosts; the companies in prideCome touching, all the breadth of either side;And the pagans do marvellously strike.So many shafts, by God! in pieces lieAnd crumpled shields, and sarks with mail untwined!So spattered all the earth there would you findThat through the field the grass so green and fineWith men's life-blood is all vermilion dyed.That admiral rallies once more his tribe:"Barons, strike on, shatter the Christian line."Now very keen and lasting is the fight,As never was, before or since that time;The finish none shall reach, unless he die.AOI.
That admiral to all his race appeals:"Pagans, strike on; came you not therefore here?I promise you noble women and dear,I promise you honours and lands and fiefs."Answer pagans: "We must do well indeed."With mighty blows they shatter all their spears;Five score thousand swords from their scabbards leap,Slaughter then, grim and sorrowful, you'd seen.Battle he saw, that stood those hosts between.AOI.
That Emperour calls on his Franks and speaks:"I love you, lords, in whom I well believe;So many great battles you've fought for me,Kings overthrown, and kingdoms have redeemed!Guerdon I owe, I know it well indeed;My lands, my wealth, my body are yours to keep.For sons, for heirs, for brothers wreakWho in Rencesvals were slaughtered yester-eve!Mine is the right, ye know, gainst pagan breeds."Answer the Franks: "Sire, 'tis the truth you speak."Twenty thousand beside him Charles leads,Who with one voice have sworn him fealty;In straits of death they never will him leave.There is not one thenceforth employs his spear,But with their swords they strike in company.The battle is straitened marvellously.AOI.
Across that field the bold Malprimes canters;Who of the Franks hath wrought there much great damage.Naimes the Duke right haughtily regards him,And goes to strike him, like a man of valour,And of his shield breaks all the upper margin,Tears both the sides of his embroidered ha'berk,Through the carcass thrusts all his yellow banner;So dead among sev'n hundred else he casts him.
King Canabeus, brother of the admiral,Has pricked his horse with spurs in either flank;He's drawn his sword, whose hilt is of crystal,And strikes Naimun on's helmet principal;Away from it he's broken off one half,Five of the links his brand of steel hath knapped;No pennyworth the hood is after that;Right to the flesh he slices through the cap;One piece of it he's flung upon the land.Great was the blow; the Duke, amazed thereat,Had fallen ev'n, but aid from God he had;His charger's neck he clasped with both his hands.Had the pagan but once renewed the attack,Then was he slain, that noble old vassal.Came there to him, with succour, Charles of France.AOI.
Keen anguish then he suffers, that Duke Naimes,And the pagan, to strike him, hotly hastens."Culvert," says Charles, "You'll get now as you gave him!"With vassalage he goes to strike that pagan,Shatters his shield, against his heart he breaks it,Tears the chin-guard above his hauberk mailed;So flings him dead: his saddle shall be wasted.
Bitter great grief has Charlemagne the King,Who Duke Naimun before him sees lying,On the green grass all his clear blood shedding.Then the Emperour to him this counsel gives:"Fair master Naimes, canter with me to win!The glutton's dead, that had you straitly pinned;Through his carcass my spear I thrust once in."Answers the Duke: "Sire, I believe it, this.Great proof you'll have of valour, if I live."They 'ngage them then, true love and faith swearing;A thousand score of Franks surround them still.Nor is there one, but slaughters, strikes and kills.AOI.
Then through the field cantered that admiral,Going to strike the county Guineman;Against his heart his argent shield he cracked,The folds of his hauberk apart he slashed,Two of his ribs out of his side he hacked,So flung him dead, while still his charger ran.After, he slew Gebuin and Lorain,Richard the old, the lord of those Normans."Preciuse," cry pagans, "is valiant!Baron, strike on; here have we our warrant!"AOI.
Who then had seen those Arrabit chevaliers,From Occiant, from Argoille and from Bascle!And well they strike and slaughter with their lances;But Franks, to escape they think it no great matter;On either side dead men to the earth fall crashing.Till even-tide 'tis very strong, that battle;Barons of France do suffer much great damage,Grief shall be there ere the two hosts be scattered.AOI.
Right well they strike, both Franks and Arrabies,Breaking the shafts of all their burnished spears.Whoso had seen that shattering of shields,Whoso had heard those shining hauberks creak,And heard those shields on iron helmets beat,Whoso had seen fall down those chevaliers,And heard men groan, dying upon that field,Some memory of bitter pains might keep.That battle is most hard to endure, indeed.And the admiral calls upon ApollinAnd Tervagan and Mahum, prays and speaks:"My lords and gods, I've done you much service;Your images, in gold I'll fashion each;Against Carlun give me your warranty!"Comes before him his dear friend Gemalfin,Evil the news he brings to him and speaks:"Sir Baliganz, this day in shame you're steeped;For you have lost your son, even Malprime;And Canabeus, your brother, slain is he.Fairly two Franks have got the victory;That Emperour was one, as I have seen;Great limbs he has, he's every way Marquis,White is his beard as flowers in April."That admiral has bent his head down deep,And thereafter lowers his face and weeps,Fain would he die at once, so great his grief;He calls to him Jangleu from over sea.AOI.
Says the admiral, "Jangleu, beside me stand!For you are proof, and greatly understand,Counsel from you I've ever sought to have.How seems it you, of Arrabits and Franks,Shall we from hence victorious go back?"He answers him: "Slain are you, Baligant!For from your gods you'll never have warrant.So proud is Charles, his men so valiant,Never saw I a race so combatant.But call upon barons of Occiant,Turks and Enfruns, Arrabits and Giants.No more delay: what must be, take in hand."
That admiral has shaken out his beardThat ev'n so white as thorn in blossom seems;He'll no way hide, whateer his fate may be,Then to his mouth he sets a trumpet clear,And clearly sounds, so all the pagans hear.Throughout the field rally his companies.From Occiant, those men who bray and bleat,And from Argoille, who, like dogs barking, speak;Seek out the Franks with such a high folly,Break through their line, the thickest press they meetDead from that shock they've seven thousand heaped.
The count Oger no cowardice e'er knew,Better vassal hath not his sark indued.He sees the Franks, their columns broken through,So calls to him Duke Tierris, of Argune,Count Jozeran, and Gefreid, of Anjou;And to Carlun most proud his reason proves:"Behold pagans, and how your men they slew!Now from your head please God the crown removeUnless you strike, and vengeance on them do!"And not one word to answer him he knew;They spurred in haste, their horses let run loose,And, wheresoeer they met the pagans, strook.AOI.
Now very well strikes the King Charlemagne,Naimes the Duke, also Oger the Dane,Geifreid d'Anjou, who that ensign displays.Exceeding proof is Don Oger, the Dane;He spurs his horse, and lets him run in haste,So strikes that man who the dragon displays.Both in the field before his feet he breaksThat king's ensign and dragon, both abased.Baligant sees his gonfalon disgraced,And Mahumet's standard thrown from its place;That admiral at once perceives it plain,That he is wrong, and right is Charlemain.Pagan Arabs coyly themselves contain;That Emperour calls on his Franks again:"Say, barons, come, support me, in God's Name!"Answer the Franks, "Question you make in vain;All felon he that dares not exploits brave!"AOI.
Passes that day, turns into vesper-tide.Franks and pagans still with their swords do strike.Brave vassals 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 sideThey 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 vassal-like they draw their swords outright.From this battle they'll ne'er be turned asideNor make an end, without that one man die.AOI.
A great vassal 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 shield 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 couldBut one of them must in the wrong be proved.AOI.
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 God 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.
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;God wills not he be slain or overpow'red.Saint Gabriel once more to him comes down,And questions him "Great King, what doest thou?"
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, God wills not they remain.And Franks have all their wish, be that what may.
Pagans are fled, ev'n as the Lord God 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 givesThat few escape, of those remain there still.
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 stoodOf the false law, whom God ne'er loved nor knew;Orders they'd none, nor were their heads tonsured.And when she saw those Arrabits confusedAloud she cried: "Give us your aid, Mahume!Ah! Noble 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 Hell live devils took.
Pagans are slain; the rest are put to routWhom 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 hoary beard, and proud,And Bramimunde hath yielded up her towers;But ten ere great, and lesser fifty around.Great exploits his whom the Lord God endows!
Passes the day, the darkness is grown deep,But all the stars burn, and the moon shines 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 wieldThey break the idols and all the imageries;So there remain no fraud nor falsity.That King fears God, and would do His service,On water then Bishops their blessing speak,And pagans bring into the baptistry.If any Charles with contradiction meetThen hanged or burned or slaughtered shall he be.Five score thousand and more are thus redeemed,Very Christians; save that alone the queenTo France the Douce goes in captivity;By love the King will her conversion seek.
Passes 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 pass 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.Passing Girunde in great ships, there abound,Ev'n unto Blaive he's brought his nephew downAnd Oliver, his noble companioun,And the Archbishop, who was so wise and proud.In white coffers he bids them lay those countsAt Saint Romain: So rest they in that ground.Franks them to God 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.
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."Alde answered him: "That word to me is strange.Never, please God, His Angels and His Saints,When Rollant's dead shall I alive remain!"Her colour fails, at th' feet of Charlemain,She falls; she's dead. Her soul God's Mercy awaits!Barons of France weep therefore and complain.
Alde the fair is gone now to her rest.Yet the King thought she was but swooning then,Pity he had, our Emperour, and wept,Took her in's hands, raised her from th'earth again;On her shoulders her head still drooped and leant.When Charles saw that she was truly deadFour countesses at once he summoned;To a monast'ry of nuns they bare her thence,All night their watch until the dawn they held;Before the altar her tomb was fashioned well;Her memory the King with honour kept.AOI.
That Emperour is now returned to Aix.The felon Guene, all in his iron chainsIs in that town, before the King's Palace;Those serfs have bound him, fast upon his stake,In deer-hide thongs his hands they've helpless made,With clubs and whips they trounce him well and baste:He has deserved not any better fate;In bitter grief his trial there he awaits.
Written it is, and in an ancient gesteHow Charles called from many lands his men,Assembled them at Aix, in his Chapelle.Holy that day, for some chief feast was held,Saint Silvester's that baron's, many tell.Thereon began the trial and defenceOf Guenelun, who had the treason spelt.Before himself the Emperour has him led.AOI.