There are nine extant manuscripts of the Song of Roland in Old French. The oldest of these manuscripts is held at the Bodleian Library at Oxford. This copy dates between 1140 and 1170 and was written in Anglo-Norman.
Scholars estimate that the poem was written between approximately 1040 and 1115, and most of the alterations were performed by about 1098. Some favor an earlier dating, because it allows one to say that the poem was inspired by the Castilian campaigns of the 1030s, and that the poem went on to be a major influence in the First Crusade. Those who prefer a later dating do so on grounds of the brief references made in the poem to events of the First Crusade. In one section, Palestine is named Outremer, its Crusader name – but is presented as a Muslim land where there are no Christians.
Plot
Charlemagne's army is fighting the Muslims in Spain. The last city standing is Saragossa, held by the Muslim king Marsilla. Terrified of the might of Charlemagne's army of Franks, Marsilla sends out messengers to Charlemagne, promising treasure and Marsilla's conversion to Christianity if the Franks will go back to France. Charlemagne and his men are tired of fighting and decide to accept this peace offer. They need now to select a messenger to go back to Marsilla's court.
The bold warrior Roland nominates his stepfather Ganelon. Ganelon is enraged; he fears that he'll die in the hands of the bloodthirsty pagans and suspects that this is just Roland's intent. He has long hated and envied his stepson, and, riding back to Saragossa with the Saracen messengers, he finds an opportunity for revenge. He tells the Saracens how they could ambush the rear guard of Charlemagne's army, which will surely be led by Roland as the Franks pick their way back to Spain through the mountain passes, and helps the Saracens plan their attack.
Just as the traitor Ganelon predicted, Roland gallantly volunteers to lead the rear guard. The wise and moderate Olivier and the fierce Archbishop Turpin are among the men Roland picks to join him. Pagans ambush them at Roncesvalles, according to plan; the Christians are overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. Seeing how badly outnumbered they are, Olivier asks Roland to blow on his oliphant, his horn made out of an elephant tusk, to call for help from the main body of the Frankish army. Roland proudly refuses to do so, claiming that they need no help, that the rear guard can easily take on the pagan hordes.
While the Franks fight magnificently, there's no way they can continue to hold off against the Saracens, and the battle begins to turn clearly against them. Almost all his men are dead and Roland knows that it's now too late for Charlemagne and his troops to save them, but he blows his oliphant anyway, so that the emperor can see what happened to his men and avenge them. Roland blows so hard that his temples burst. He dies a glorious martyr's death, and saints take his soul straight to Paradise.
When Charlemagne and his men reach the battlefield, they find only dead bodies. The pagans have fled, but the Franks pursue them, chasing them into the river Ebro, where they all drown.
Meanwhile, the powerful emir of Babylon, Baligant, has arrived in Spain to help his vassal Marsilla fend off the Frankish threat. Baligant and his enormous Muslim army ride after Charlemagne and his Christian army, meeting them on the battlefield at Roncesvalles, where the Christians are burying and mourning their dead. Both sides fight valiantly. But when Charlemagne kills Baligant, all the pagan army scatter and flee.
Now Saragossa has no defenders left; the Franks take the city. With Marsilla's wife Bramimonde, Charlemagne and his men ride back to Aix, their capital in France.
The Franks discovered Ganelon's betrayal some time ago and keep him in chains until it is time for his trial. Ganelon argues that his action was legitimate revenge, openly proclaimed, not treason. While the council of barons, which Charlemagne gathered to decide the traitor's fate is initially swayed by this claim, one man, Thierry, argues that, because Roland was serving Charlemagne when Ganelon delivered his revenge on him, Ganelon's action constitutes a betrayal of the emperor.
Ganelon's friend Pinabel challenges Thierry to trial by combat; the two will fight a duel to see who's right. By divine intervention, Thierry, the weaker man, wins, killing Pinabel. The Franks are convinced by this of Ganelon's villainy and sentence him to a most painful death. The traitor is torn limb from limb by galloping horses and thirty of his relatives are hung for good measure.
I
Charles the King, our Lord and Sovereign,
Full seven years hath sojourned in Spain,
Conquered the land, and won the western main,
Now no fortress against him doth remain,
No city walls are left for him to gain,
Save Sarraguce, that sits on high mountain.
Marsile its King, who feareth not God's name,
Mahumet's man, he invokes Apollin's aid,
Nor wards off ills that shall to him attain.
AOI.
II
King Marsilies he lay at Sarraguce,
Went he his way into an orchard cool;
There on a throne he sate, of marble blue,
Round him his men, full twenty thousand, stood.
Called he forth then his counts, also his dukes:
"My Lords, give ear to our impending doom:
That Emperour, Charles of France the Douce,
Into this land is come, us to confuse.
I have no host in battle him to prove,
Nor have I strength his forces to undo.
Counsel me then, ye that are wise and true;
Can ye ward off this present death and dule?"
What word to say no pagan of them knew,
Save Blancandrin, of th' Castle of Val Funde.
III
Blancandrins was a pagan very wise,
In vassalage he was a gallant knight,
First in prowess, he stood his lord beside.
And thus he spoke: "Do not yourself affright!
Yield to Carlun, that is so big with pride,
Faithful service, his friend and his ally;
Lions and bears and hounds for him provide,
Thousand mewed hawks, sev'n hundred camelry;
Silver and gold, four hundred mules load high;
Fifty wagons his wrights will need supply,
Till with that wealth he pays his soldiery.
War hath he waged in Spain too long a time,
To Aix, in France, homeward he will him hie.
Follow him there before Saint Michael's tide,
You shall receive and hold the Christian rite;
Stand honour bound, and do him fealty.
Send hostages, should he demand surety,
Ten or a score, our loyal oath to bind;
Send him our sons, the first-born of our wives;—
An he be slain, I'll surely furnish mine.
Better by far they go, though doomed to die,
Than that we lose honour and dignity,
And be ourselves brought down to beggary."
AOI.
IV
Says Blancandrins: "By my right hand, I say,
And by this beard, that in the wind doth sway,
The Frankish host you'll see them all away;
Franks will retire to France their own terrain.
When they are gone, to each his fair domain,
In his Chapelle at Aix will Charles stay,
High festival will hold for Saint Michael.
Time will go by, and pass the appointed day;
Tidings of us no Frank will hear or say.
Proud is that King, and cruel his courage;
From th' hostage he'll slice their heads away.
Better by far their heads be shorn away,
Than that ourselves lose this clear land of Spain,
Than that ourselves do suffer grief and pain."
"That is well said. So be it." the pagans say.
V
The council ends, and that King Marsilie
Calleth aside Clarun of Balaguee,
Estramarin and Eudropin his peer,
And Priamun and Guarlan of the beard,
And Machiner and his uncle Mahee,
With Jouner, Malbien from over sea,
And Blancandrin, good reason to decree:
Ten hath he called, were first in felony.
"Gentle Barons, to Charlemagne go ye;
He is in siege of Cordres the city.
In your right hands bear olive-branches green
Which signify Peace and Humility.
If you by craft contrive to set me free,
Silver and gold, you'll have your fill of me,
Manors and fiefs, I'll give you all your need."
"We have enough," the pagans straight agree.
AOI.
VI
King Marsilies, his council finishing,
Says to his men: "Go now, my lords, to him,
Olive-branches in your right hands bearing;
Bid ye for me that Charlemagne, the King,
In his God's name to shew me his mercy;
Ere this new moon wanes, I shall be with him;
One thousand men shall be my following;
I will receive the rite of christening,
Will be his man, my love and faith swearing;
Hostages too, he'll have, if so he will."
Says Blancandrins: "Much good will come of this."
AOI.
VII
Ten snow-white mules then ordered Marsilie,
Gifts of a King, the King of Suatilie.
Bridled with gold, saddled in silver clear;
Mounted them those that should the message speak,
In their right hands were olive-branches green.
Came they to Charle, that holds all France in fee,
Yet cannot guard himself from treachery.
AOI.
VIII
Merry and bold is now that Emperour,
Cordres he holds, the walls are tumbled down,
His catapults have battered town and tow'r.
Great good treasure his knights have placed in pound,
Silver and gold and many a jewelled gown.
In that city there is no pagan now
But he been slain, or takes the Christian vow.
The Emperour is in a great orchard ground
Where Oliver and Rollant stand around,
Sansun the Duke and Anseis the proud,
Gefreid d'Anjou, that bears his gonfaloun;
There too Gerin and Geriers are found.
Where they are found, is seen a mighty crowd,
Fifteen thousand, come out of France the Douce.
On white carpets those knights have sate them down,
At the game-boards to pass an idle hour;—
Chequers the old, for wisdom most renowned,
While fence the young and lusty bachelours.
Beneath a pine, in eglantine embow'red,
l Stands a fald-stool, fashioned of gold throughout;
There sits the King, that holds Douce France in pow'r;
White is his beard, and blossoming-white his crown,
Shapely his limbs, his countenance is proud.
Should any seek, no need to point him out.
The messengers, on foot they get them down,
And in salute full courteously they lout.
IX
The foremost word of all Blancandrin spake,
And to the King: "May God preserve you safe,
The All Glorious, to Whom ye're bound to pray!
Proud Marsilies this message bids me say:
Much hath he sought to find salvation's way;
Out of his wealth meet presents would he make,
Lions and bears, and greyhounds leashed on chain,
Thousand mewed hawks, sev'n hundred dromedrays,
Four hundred mules his silver shall convey,
Fifty wagons you'll need to bear away
Golden besants, such store of proved assay,
Wherewith full tale your soldiers you can pay.
Now in this land you've been too long a day
Hie you to France, return again to Aix;
Thus saith my Lord, he'll follow too that way."
That Emperour t'wards God his arms he raised
Lowered his head, began to meditate.
AOI.
X
That Emperour inclined his head full low;
Hasty in speech he never was, but slow:
His custom was, at his leisure he spoke.
When he looks up, his face is very bold,
He says to them: "Good tidings have you told.
King Marsilies hath ever been my foe.
These very words you have before me told,
In what measure of faith am I to hold?"
That Sarrazin says, "Hostages he'll show;
Ten shall you take, or fifteen or a score.
Though he be slain, a son of mine shall go,
Any there be you'll have more nobly born.
To your palace seigneurial when you go,
At Michael's Feast, called in periculo;
My Lord hath said, thither will he follow
Ev'n to your baths, that God for you hath wrought;
There is he fain the Christian faith to know."
Answers him Charles: "Still may he heal his soul."
AOI.
XI
Clear shone the sun in a fair even-tide;
Those ten men's mules in stall he bade them tie.
Also a tent in the orchard raise on high,
Those messengers had lodging for the night;
Dozen serjeants served after them aright.
Darkling they lie till comes the clear daylight.
That Emperour does with the morning rise;
Matins and Mass are said then in his sight.
Forth goes that King, and stays beneath a pine;
Barons he calls, good counsel to define,
For with his Franks he's ever of a mind.
AOI.
XII
That Emperour, beneath a pine he sits,
Calls his barons, his council to begin:
Oger the Duke, that Archbishop Turpin,
Richard the old, and his nephew Henry,
From Gascony the proof Count Acolin,
Tedbald of Reims and Milun his cousin:
With him there were Gerers, also Gerin,
And among them the Count Rollant came in,
And Oliver, so proof and so gentil.
Franks out of France, a thousand chivalry;
Guenes came there, that wrought the treachery.
The Council then began, which ended ill.
AOI.
XIII
"My Lords Barons," says the Emperour then, Charles,
"King Marsilies hath sent me his messages;
Out of his wealth he'll give me weighty masses.
Greyhounds on leash and bears and lions also,
Thousand mewed hawks and seven hundred camels,
Four hundred mules with gold Arabian charged,
Fifty wagons, yea more than fifty drawing.
But into France demands he my departure;
He'll follow me to Aix, where is my Castle;
There he'll receive the law of our Salvation:
Christian he'll be, and hold from me his marches.
But I know not what purpose in his heart is."
Then say the Franks: "Beseems us act with caution!"
AOI.
XIV
That Emperour hath ended now his speech.
The Count Rollanz, he never will agree,
Quick to reply, he springs upon his feet;
And to the King, "Believe not Marsilie.
Seven years since, when into Spain came we,
I conquer'd you Noples also Commibles,
And took Valterne, and all the land of Pine,
And Balaguet, and Tuele, and Sezilie.
Traitor in all his ways was Marsilies;
Of his pagans he sent you then fifteen,
Bearing in hand their olive-branches green:
Who, ev'n as now, these very words did speak.
You of your Franks a Council did decree,
Praised they your words that foolish were in deed.
Two of your Counts did to the pagan speed,
Basan was one, and the other Basilie:
Their heads he took on th' hill by Haltilie.
War have you waged, so on to war proceed,
To Sarraguce lead forth your great army.
All your life long, if need be, lie in siege,
Vengeance for those the felon slew to wreak."
AOI.
XV
That Emperour he sits with lowering front,
He clasps his chin, his beard his fingers tug,
Good word nor bad, his nephew not one.
Franks hold their peace, but only Guenelun
Springs to his feet, and comes before Carlun;
Right haughtily his reason he's begun,
And to the King: "Believe not any one,
My word nor theirs, save whence your good shall come.
Since he sends word, that King Marsiliun,
Homage he'll do, by finger and by thumb;
Throughout all Spain your writ alone shall run
Next he'll receive our rule of Christendom
Who shall advise, this bidding be not done,
Deserves not death, since all to death must come.
Counsel of pride is wrong: we've fought enough.
Leave we the fools, and with the wise be one."
AOI.
XVI
And after him came Neimes out, the third,
Better vassal there was not in the world;
And to the King: "Now rightly have you heard
Guenes the Count, what answer he returned.
Wisdom was there, but let it well be heard.
King Marsilies in war is overturned,
His castles all in ruin have you hurled,
With catapults his ramparts have you burst,
Vanquished his men, and all his cities burned;
Him who entreats your pity do not spurn,
Sinners were they that would to war return;
With hostages his faith he would secure;
Let this great war no longer now endure."
"Well said the Duke." Franks utter in their turn.
AOI.
XVII
"My lords barons, say whom shall we send up
To Sarraguce, to King Marsiliun?"
Answers Duke Neimes: "I'll go there for your love;
Give me therefore the wand, also the glove."
Answers the King: "Old man of wisdom pruff;
By this white beard, and as these cheeks are rough,
You'll not this year so far from me remove;
Go sit you down, for none hath called you up."
XVIII
"My lords barons, say whom now can we send
To th' Sarrazin that Sarraguce defends?"
Answers Rollanz: "I might go very well."
"Certes, you'll not," says Oliver his friend,
"For your courage is fierce unto the end,
I am afraid you would misapprehend.
If the King wills it I might go there well."
Answers the King: "Be silent both on bench;
Your feet nor his, I say, shall that way wend.
Nay, by this beard, that you have seen grow blench,
The dozen peers by that would stand condemned.
Franks hold their peace; you'd seen them all silent.
XIX
Turpins of Reins is risen from his rank,
Says to the King: "In peace now leave your Franks.
For seven years you've lingered in this land
They have endured much pain and sufferance.
Give, Sire, to me the clove, also the wand,
I will seek out the Spanish Sarazand,
For I believe his thoughts I understand."
That Emperour answers intolerant:
"Go, sit you down on yonder silken mat;
And speak no more, until that I command."
AOI.
XX
"Franks, chevaliers," says the Emperour then, Charles,
"Choose ye me out a baron from my marches,
To Marsilie shall carry back my answer."
Then says Rollanz: "There's Guenes, my goodfather."
Answer the Franks: "For he can wisely manage;
So let him go, there's none you should send rather."
And that count Guenes is very full of anguish;
Off from his neck he flings the pelts of marten,
And on his feet stands clear in silken garment.
Proud face he had, his eyes with colour, sparkled;
Fine limbs he had, his ribs were broadly arched
So fair he seemed that all the court regarded.
Says to Rollant: "Fool, wherefore art so wrathful?
All men know well that I am thy goodfather;
Thou hast decreed, to Marsiliun I travel.
Then if God grant that I return hereafter,
I'll follow thee with such a force of passion
That will endure so long as life may last thee."
Answers Rollanz: "Thou'rt full of pride and madness.
All men know well, I take no thought for slander;
But some wise man, surely, should bear the answer;
If the King will, I'm ready to go rather."
AOI.
XXI
Answers him Guene: "Thou shalt not go for me.
Thou'rt not my man, nor am I lord of thee.
Charles commnds that I do his decree,
To Sarraguce going to Marsilie;
There I will work a little trickery,
This mighty wrath of mine I'll thus let free."
When Rollanz heard, began to laugh for glee.
AOI.
XXII
When Guenes sees that Rollant laughs at it,
Such grief he has, for rage he's like to split,
A little more, and he has lost his wit:
Says to that count: "I love you not a bit;
A false judgement you bore me when you chid.
Right Emperour, you see me where you sit,
I will your word accomplish, as you bid.
AOI.
XXIII
"To Sarraguce I must repair, 'tis plain;
Whence who goes there returns no more again.
Your sister's hand in marriage have I ta'en;
And I've a son, there is no prettier swain:
Baldwin, men say he shews the knightly strain.
To him I leave my honours and domain.
Care well for him; he'll look for me in vain."
Answers him Charles: "Your heart is too humane.
When I command, time is to start amain."
AOI.
XXIV
Then says the King: "Guenes, before me stand;
And take from me the glove, also the wand.
For you have heard, you're chosen by the Franks,"
"Sire," answers Guenes, "all this is from Rollanz;
I'll not love him, so long as I'm a man,
Nor Oliver, who goes at his right hand;
The dozen peers, for they are of his band,
All I defy, as in your sight I stand."
Then says the King: "Over intolerant.
Now certainly you go when I command."
"And go I can; yet have I no warrant
Basile had none nor his brother Basant."
XXV
His right hand glove that Emperour holds out;
But the count Guenes elsewhere would fain be found;
When he should take, it falls upon the ground.
Murmur the Franks: "God! What may that mean now?
By this message great loss shall come about."
"Lordings," says Guene, "You'll soon have news enow."
XXVI
"Now," Guenes said, "give me your orders, Sire;
Since I must go, why need I linger, I?"
Then said the King "In Jesu's Name and mine!"
With his right hand he has absolved and signed,
Then to his care the wand and brief confides.
XXVII
Guenes the count goes to his hostelry,
Finds for the road his garments and his gear,
All of the best he takes that may appear:
Spurs of fine gold he fastens on his feet,
And to his side Murgles his sword of steel.
On Tachebrun, his charger, next he leaps,
His uncle holds the stirrup, Guinemere.
Then you had seen so many knights to weep,
Who all exclaim: "Unlucky lord, indeed!
In the King's court these many years you've been,
Noble vassal, they say that have you seen.
He that for you this journey has decreed
King Charlemagne will never hold him dear.
The Count Rollant, he should not so have deemed,
Knowing you were born of very noble breed."
After they say: "Us too, Sire, shall he lead."
Then answers Guenes: "Not so, the Lord be pleased!
Far better one than many knights should bleed.
To France the Douce, my lords, you soon shall speed,
On my behalf my gentle wife you'll greet,
And Pinabel, who is my friend and peer,
And Baldewin, my son, whom you have seen;
His rights accord and help him in his need."
—Rides down the road, and on his way goes he.
AOI.
XXVIII
Guenes canters on, and halts beneath a tree;
Where Sarrazins assembled he may see,
With Blancandrins, who abides his company.
Cunning and keen they speak then, each to each,
Says Blancandrins: "Charles, what a man is he,
Who conquered Puille and th'whole of Calabrie;
Into England he crossed the bitter sea,
To th' Holy Pope restored again his fee.
What seeks he now of us in our country?"
Then answers Guene "So great courage hath he;
Never was man against him might succeed."
AOI.
XXIX
Says Blancandrins "Gentle the Franks are found;
Yet a great wrong these dukes do and these counts
Unto their lord, being in counsel proud;
Him and themselves they harry and confound."
Guenes replies: "There is none such, without
Only Rollanz, whom shame will yet find out.
Once in the shade the King had sate him down;
His nephew came, in sark of iron brown,
Spoils he had won, beyond by Carcasoune,
Held in his hand an apple red and round.
"Behold, fair Sire," said Rollanz as he bowed,
"Of all earth's kings I bring you here the crowns."
His cruel pride must shortly him confound,
Each day t'wards death he goes a little down,
When he be slain, shall peace once more abound."
AOI.
XXX
Says Blancandrins: "A cruel man, Rollant,
That would bring down to bondage every man,
And challenges the peace of every land.
With what people takes he this task in hand?"
And answers Guene: "The people of the Franks;
They love him so, for men he'll never want.
Silver and gold he show'rs upon his band,
Chargers and mules, garments and silken mats.
The King himself holds all by his command;
From hence to the East he'll conquer sea and land."
AOI.
XXXI
Cantered so far then Blancandrins and Guene
Till each by each a covenant had made
And sought a plan, how Rollant might be slain.
Cantered so far by valley and by plain
To Sarraguce beneath a cliff they came.
There a fald-stool stood in a pine-tree's shade,
Enveloped all in Alexandrin veils;
There was the King that held the whole of Espain,
Twenty thousand of Sarrazins his train;
Nor was there one but did his speech contain,
Eager for news, till they might hear the tale.
Haste into sight then Blancandrins and Guene.
XXXII
Blancandrin comes before Marsiliun,
Holding the hand of county Guenelun;
Says to the King "Lord save you, Sire, Mahum
And Apollin, whose holy laws here run!
Your message we delivered to Charlun,
Both his two hands he raised against the sun,
Praising his God, but answer made he none.
He sends you here his noblest born barun,
Greatest in wealth, that out of France is come;
From him you'll hear if peace shall be, or none."
"Speak," said Marsile: "We'll hear him, every one."
AOI.
XXXIII
But the count Guenes did deeply meditate;
Cunning and keen began at length, and spake
Even as one that knoweth well the way;
And to the King: "May God preserve you safe,
The All Glorious, to whom we're bound to pray
Proud Charlemagne this message bids me say:
You must receive the holy Christian Faith,
And yield in fee one half the lands of Spain.
If to accord this tribute you disdain,
Taken by force and bound in iron chain
You will be brought before his throne at Aix;
Judged and condemned you'll be, and shortly slain,
Yes, you will die in misery and shame."
King Marsilies was very sore afraid,
Snatching a dart, with golden feathers gay,
He made to strike: they turned aside his aim.
AOI.
XXXIV
King Marsilies is turn'ed white with rage,
His feathered dart he brandishes and shakes.
Guenes beholds: his sword in hand he takes,
Two fingers' width from scabbard bares the blade;
And says to it: "O clear and fair and brave;
Before this King in court we'll so behave,
That the Emperour of France shall never say
In a strange land I'd thrown my life away
Before these chiefs thy temper had essayed."
"Let us prevent this fight:" the pagans say.
XXXV
Then Sarrazins implored him so, the chiefs,
On the faldstoel Marsillies took his seat.
"Greatly you harm our cause," says the alcaliph:
"When on this Frank your vengeance you would wreak;
Rather you should listen to hear him speak."
"Sire," Guenes says, "to suffer I am meek.
I will not fail, for all the gold God keeps,
Nay, should this land its treasure pile in heaps,
But I will tell, so long as I be free,
What Charlemagne, that Royal Majesty,
Bids me inform his mortal enemy."
Guenes had on a cloke of sable skin,
And over it a veil Alexandrin;
These he throws down, they're held by Blancandrin;
But not his sword, he'll not leave hold of it,
In his right hand he grasps the golden hilt.
The pagans say. "A noble baron, this."
AOI.
XXXVI
Before the King's face Guenes drawing near
Says to him "Sire, wherefore this rage and fear?
Seeing you are, by Charles, of Franks the chief,
Bidden to hold the Christians' right belief.
One half of Spain he'll render as your fief
The rest Rollanz, his nephew, shall receive,
Proud parcener in him you'll have indeed.
If you will not to Charles this tribute cede,
To you he'll come, and Sarraguce besiege;
Take you by force, and bind you hands and feet,
Bear you outright ev'n unto Aix his seat.
You will not then on palfrey nor on steed,
Jennet nor mule, come cantering in your speed;
Flung you will be on a vile sumpter-beast;
Tried there and judged, your head you will not keep.
Our Emperour has sent you here this brief."
He's given it into the pagan's nief.
XXXVII
Now Marsilies, is turn'ed white with ire,
He breaks the seal and casts the wax aside,
Looks in the brief, sees what the King did write:
"Charles commands, who holds all France by might,
I bear in mind his bitter grief and ire;
'Tis of Basan and 's brother Basilye,
Whose heads I took on th' hill by Haltilye.
If I would save my body now alive,
I must despatch my uncle the alcalyph,
Charles will not love me ever otherwise."
After, there speaks his son to Marsilye,
Says to the King: "In madness spoke this wight.
So wrong he was, to spare him were not right;
Leave him to me, I will that wrong requite."
When Guenes hears, he draws his sword outright,
Against the trunk he stands, beneath that pine.
XXXVIII
The King is gone into that orchard then;
With him he takes the best among his men;
And Blancandrins there shews his snowy hair,
And Jursalet, was the King's son and heir,
And the alcaliph, his uncle and his friend.
Says Blancandrins: "Summon the Frank again,
In our service his faith to me he's pledged."
Then says the King: "So let him now be fetched."
He's taken Guenes by his right finger-ends,
And through the orchard straight to the King they wend.
Of treason there make lawless parliament.
AOI.
XXXIX
"Fair Master Guenes," says then King Marsilie,
"I did you now a little trickery,
Making to strike, I shewed my great fury.
These sable skins take as amends from me,
Five hundred pounds would not their worth redeem.
To-morrow night the gift shall ready be."
Guene answers him: "I'll not refuse it, me.
May God be pleased to shew you His mercy."
AOI.
XL
Then says Marsile "Guenes, the truth to ken,
Minded I am to love you very well.
Of Charlemagne I wish to hear you tell,
He's very old, his time is nearly spent,
Two hundred years he's lived now, as 'tis said.
Through many lands his armies he has led,
So many blows his buckled shield has shed,
And so rich kings he's brought to beg their bread;
What time from war will he draw back instead?"
And answers Guenes: "Not so was Charles bred.
There is no man that sees and knows him well
But will proclaim the Emperour's hardihead.
Praise him as best I may, when all is said,
Remain untold, honour and goodness yet.
His great valour how can it be counted?
Him with such grace hath God illumined,
Better to die than leave his banneret."
XLI
The pagan says: "You make me marvel sore
At Charlemagne, who is so old and hoar;
Two hundred years, they say, he's lived and more.
So many lands he's led his armies o'er,
So many blows from spears and lances borne,
And so rich kings brought down to beg and sorn,
When will time come that he draws back from war?"
"Never," says Guenes, "so long as lives his nephew;
No such vassal goes neath the dome of heaven;
And proof also is Oliver his henchman;
The dozen peers, whom Charl'es holds so precious,
These are his guards, with other thousands twenty.
Charles is secure, he holds no man in terror."
AOI.
XLII
Says Sarrazin: "My wonder yet is grand
At Charlemagne, who hoary is and blanched.
Two hundred years and more, I understand,
He has gone forth and conquered many a land,
Such blows hath borne from many a trenchant lance,
Vanquished and slain of kings so rich a band,
When will time come that he from war draws back?"
"Never," says Guene, "so long as lives Rollanz,
From hence to the East there is no such vassal;
And proof also, Oliver his comrade;
The dozen peers he cherishes at hand,
These are his guard, with twenty thousand Franks.
Charles is secure, he fears no living man."
AOI.
XLIII
"Fair Master Guenes," says Marsilies the King,
"Such men are mine, fairer than tongue can sing,
Of knights I can four hundred thousand bring
So I may fight with Franks and with their King."
Answers him Guenes: "Not on this journeying
Save of pagans a great loss suffering.
Leave you the fools, wise counsel following;
To the Emperour such wealth of treasure give
That every Frank at once is marvelling.
For twenty men that you shall now send in
To France the Douce he will repair, that King;
In the rereward will follow after him
Both his nephew, count Rollant, as I think,
And Oliver, that courteous paladin;
Dead are the counts, believe me if you will.
Charles will behold his great pride perishing,
For battle then he'll have no more the skill.
AOI.
XLIV
Fair Master Guene," says then King Marsilie,
"Shew the device, how Rollant slain may be."
Answers him Guenes: "That will I soon make clear
The King will cross by the good pass of Size,
A guard he'll set behind him, in the rear;
His nephew there, count Rollant, that rich peer,
And Oliver, in whom he well believes;
Twenty thousand Franks in their company
Five score thousand pagans upon them lead,
Franks unawares in battle you shall meet,
Bruised and bled white the race of Franks shall be;
I do not say, but yours shall also bleed.
Battle again deliver, and with speed.
So, first or last, from Rollant you'll be freed.
You will have wrought a high chivalrous deed,
Nor all your life know war again, but peace.
AOI.
XLV
"Could one achieve that Rollant's life was lost,
Charle's right arm were from his body torn;
Though there remained his marvellous great host,
He'ld not again assemble in such force;
Terra Major would languish in repose."
Marsile has heard, he's kissed him on the throat;
Next he begins to undo his treasure-store.
AOI.
XLVI
Said Marsilie—but now what more said they?—
"No faith in words by oath unbound I lay;
Swear me the death of Rollant on that day."
Then answered Guene: "So be it, as you say."
On the relics, are in his sword Murgles,
Treason he's sworn, forsworn his faith away.
AOI.
XLVII
Was a fald-stool there, made of olifant.
A book thereon Marsilies bade them plant,
In it their laws, Mahum's and Tervagant's.
He's sworn thereby, the Spanish Sarazand,
In the rereward if he shall find Rollant,
Battle to himself and all his band,
And verily he'll slay him if he can.
And answered Guenes: "So be it, as you command!"
AOI.
XLVIII
In haste there came a pagan Valdabrun,
Warden had been to King Marsiliun,
Smiling and clear, he's said to Guenelun,
"Take now this sword, and better sword has none;
Into the hilt a thousand coins are run.
To you, fair sir, I offer it in love;
Give us your aid from Rollant the barun,
That in rereward against him we may come."
Guenes the count answers: "It shall-be done."
Then, cheek and chin, kissed each the other one.
XLIX
After there came a pagan, Climorins,
Smiling and clear to Guenelun begins:
"Take now my helm, better is none than this;
But give us aid, on Rollant the marquis,
By what device we may dishonour bring."
"It shall be done." Count Guenes answered him;
On mouth and cheek then each the other kissed.
AOI.
L
In haste there came the Queen forth, Bramimound;
"I love you well, sir," said she to the count,
"For prize you dear my lord and all around;
Here for your wife I have two brooches found,
Amethysts and jacynths in golden mount;
More worth are they than all the wealth of Roum;
Your Emperour has none such, I'll be bound."
He's taken them, and in his hosen pouched.
AOI.
LI
The King now calls Malduiz, that guards his treasure.
"Tribute for Charles, say, is it now made ready?"
He answers him: "Ay, Sire, for here is plenty
Silver and gold on hundred camels seven,
And twenty men, the gentlest under heaven."
AOI.
LII
Marsilie's arm Guene's shoulder doth enfold;
He's said to him: "You are both wise and bold.
Now, by the law that you most sacred hold,
Let not your heart in our behalf grow cold!
Out of my store I'll give you wealth untold,
Charging ten mules with fine Arabian gold;
I'll do the same for you, new year and old.
Take then the keys of this city so large,
This great tribute present you first to Charles,
Then get me placed Rollanz in the rereward.
If him I find in valley or in pass,
Battle I'll give him that shall be the last."
Answers him Guenes: "My time is nearly past."
His charger mounts, and on his journey starts.
AOI.
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.
LXXIX
Ready they make hauberks Sarrazinese,
That folded are, the greater part, in three;
And they lace on good helms Sarragucese;
Gird on their swords of tried steel Viennese;
Fine shields they have, and spears Valentinese,
And white, blue, red, their ensigns take the breeze,
They've left their mules behind, and their palfreys,
Their chargers mount, and canter knee by knee.
Fair shines the sun, the day is bright and clear,
Light bums again from all their polished gear.
A thousand horns they sound, more proud to seem;
Great is the noise, the Franks its echo hear.
Says Oliver: "Companion, I believe,
Sarrazins now in battle must we meet."
Answers Rollanz: "God grant us then the fee!
For our King's sake well must we quit us here;
Man for his lord should suffer great disease,
Most bitter cold endure, and burning heat,
His hair and skin should offer up at need.
Now must we each lay on most hardily,
So evil songs neer sung of us shall be.
Pagans are wrong: Christians are right indeed.
Evil example will never come of me."
AOI.
LXXX
Oliver mounts upon a lofty peak,
Looks to his right along the valley green,
The pagan tribes approaching there appear;
He calls Rollanz, his companion, to see:
"What sound is this, come out of Spain, we hear,
What hauberks bright, what helmets these that gleam?
They'll smite our Franks with fury past belief,
He knew it, Guenes, the traitor and the thief,
Who chose us out before the King our chief."
Answers the count Rollanz: "Olivier, cease.
That man is my good-father; hold thy peace."
LXXXI
Upon a peak is Oliver mounted,
Kingdom of Spain he sees before him spread,
And Sarrazins, so many gathered.
Their helmets gleam, with gold are jewelled,
Also their shields, their hauberks orfreyed,
Also their swords, ensigns on spears fixed.
Rank beyond rank could not be numbered,
So many there, no measure could he set.
In his own heart he's sore astonished,
Fast as he could, down from the peak hath sped
Comes to the Franks, to them his tale hath said.
LXXXII
Says Oliver: "Pagans from there I saw;
Never on earth did any man see more.
Gainst us their shields an hundred thousand bore,
That laced helms and shining hauberks wore;
And, bolt upright, their bright brown spearheads shone.
Battle we'll have as never was before.
Lords of the Franks, God keep you in valour!
So hold your ground, we be not overborne!"
Then say the Franks "Shame take him that goes off:
If we must die, then perish one and all."
AOI.
LXXXIII
Says Oliver: "Pagans in force abound,
While of us Franks but very few I count;
Comrade Rollanz, your horn I pray you sound!
If Charles hear, he'll turn his armies round."
Answers Rollanz: "A fool I should be found;
In France the Douce would perish my renown.
With Durendal I'll lay on thick and stout,
In blood the blade, to its golden hilt, I'll drown.
Felon pagans to th' pass shall not come down;
I pledge you now, to death they all are bound.
AOI.
LXXXIV
"Comrade Rollanz, sound the olifant, I pray;
If Charles hear, the host he'll turn again;
Will succour us our King and baronage."
Answers Rollanz: "Never, by God, I say,
For my misdeed shall kinsmen hear the blame,
Nor France the Douce fall into evil fame!
Rather stout blows with Durendal I'll lay,
With my good sword that by my side doth sway;
Till bloodied o'er you shall behold the blade.
Felon pagans are gathered to their shame;
I pledge you now, to death they're doomed to-day."
LXXXV
"Comrade Rollanz, once sound your olifant!
If Charles hear, where in the pass he stands,
I pledge you now, they'll turn again, the Franks."
"Never, by God," then answers him Rollanz,
"Shall it be said by any living man,
That for pagans I took my horn in hand!
Never by me shall men reproach my clan.
When I am come into the battle grand,
And blows lay on, by hundred, by thousand,
Of Durendal bloodied you'll see the brand.
Franks are good men; like vassals brave they'll stand;
Nay, Spanish men from death have no warrant."
LXXXVI
Says Oliver: "In this I see no blame;
I have beheld the Sarrazins of Spain;
Covered with them, the mountains and the vales,
The wastes I saw, and all the farthest plains.
A muster great they've made, this people strange;
We have of men a very little tale."
Answers Rollanz: "My anger is inflamed.
Never, please God His Angels and His Saints,
Never by me shall Frankish valour fail!
Rather I'll die than shame shall me attain.
Therefore strike on, the Emperour's love to gain."
LXXXVII
Pride hath Rollanz, wisdom Olivier hath;
And both of them shew marvellous courage;
Once they are horsed, once they have donned their arms,
Rather they'd die than from the battle pass.
Good are the counts, and lofty their language.
Felon pagans come cantering in their wrath.
Says Oliver: "Behold and see, Rollanz,
These are right near, but Charles is very far.
On the olifant deign now to sound a blast;
Were the King here, we should not fear damage.
Only look up towards the Pass of Aspre,
In sorrow there you'll see the whole rereward.
Who does this deed, does no more afterward."
Answers Rollanz: "Utter not such outrage!
Evil his heart that is in thought coward!
We shall remain firm in our place installed;
From us the blows shall come, from us the assault."
AOI.
LXXXVIII
When Rollant sees that now must be combat,
More fierce he's found than lion or leopard;
The Franks he calls, and Oliver commands:
"Now say no more, my friends, nor thou, comrade.
That Emperour, who left us Franks on guard,
A thousand score stout men he set apart,
And well he knows, not one will prove coward.
Man for his lord should suffer with good heart,
Of bitter cold and great heat bear the smart,
His blood let drain, and all his flesh be scarred.
Strike with thy lance, and I with Durendal,
With my good sword that was the King's reward.
So, if I die, who has it afterward
Noble vassal's he well may say it was."
LXXXIX
From the other part is the Archbishop Turpin,
He pricks his horse and mounts upon a hill;
Calling the Franks, sermon to them begins:
"My lords barons, Charles left us here for this;
He is our King, well may we die for him:
To Christendom good service offering.
Battle you'll have, you all are bound to it,
For with your eyes you see the Sarrazins.
Pray for God's grace, confessing Him your sins!
For your souls' health, I'll absolution give
So, though you die, blest martyrs shall you live,
Thrones you shall win in the great Paradis."
The Franks dismount, upon the ground are lit.
That Archbishop God's Benediction gives,
For their penance, good blows to strike he bids.
XC
The Franks arise, and stand upon their feet,
They're well absolved, and from their sins made clean,
And the Archbishop has signed them with God's seal;
And next they mount upon their chargers keen;
By rule of knights they have put on their gear,
For battle all apparelled as is meet.
The count Rollant calls Oliver, and speaks
"Comrade and friend, now clearly have you seen
That Guenelun hath got us by deceit;
Gold hath he ta'en; much wealth is his to keep;
That Emperour vengeance for us must wreak.
King Marsilies hath bargained for us cheap;
At the sword's point he yet shall pay our meed."
AOI.
XCI
To Spanish pass is Rollanz now going
On Veillantif, his good steed, galloping;
He is well armed, pride is in his bearing,
He goes, so brave, his spear in hand holding,
He goes, its point against the sky turning;
A gonfalon all white thereon he's pinned,
Down to his hand flutters the golden fringe:
Noble his limbs, his face clear and smiling.
His companion goes after, following,
The men of France their warrant find in him.
Proudly he looks towards the Sarrazins,
And to the Franks sweetly, himself humbling;
And courteously has said to them this thing:
"My lords barons, go now your pace holding!
Pagans are come great martyrdom seeking;
Noble and fair reward this day shall bring,
Was never won by any Frankish King."
Upon these words the hosts are come touching.
AOI.
XCII
Speaks Oliver: "No more now will I say.
Your olifant, to sound it do not deign,
Since from Carlun you'll never more have aid.
He has not heard; no fault of his, so brave.
Those with him there are never to be blamed.
So canter on, with what prowess you may!
Lords and barons, firmly your ground maintain!
Be minded well, I pray you in God's Name,
Stout blows to strike, to give as you shall take.
Forget the cry of Charles we never may."
Upon this word the Franks cry out amain.
Who then had heard them all "Monjoie!" acclaim
Of vassalage might well recall the tale.
They canter forth, God! with what proud parade,
Pricking their spurs, the better speed to gain;
They go to strike,—what other thing could they?—
But Sarrazins are not at all afraid.
Pagans and Franks, you'ld see them now engaged.
XCIII
Marsile's nephew, his name is Aelroth,
First of them all canters before the host,
Says of our Franks these ill words as he goes:
"Felons of France, so here on us you close!
Betrayed you has he that to guard you ought;
Mad is the King who left you in this post.
So shall the fame of France the Douce be lost,
And the right arm from Charles body torn."
When Rollant hears, what rage he has, by God!
His steed he spurs, gallops with great effort;
He goes, that count, to strike with all his force,
The shield he breaks, the hauberk's seam unsews,
Slices the heart, and shatters up the bones,
All of the spine he severs with that blow,
And with his spear the soul from body throws
So well he's pinned, he shakes in the air that corse,
On his spear's hilt he's flung it from the horse:
So in two halves Aeroth's neck he broke,
Nor left him yet, they say, but rather spoke:
"Avaunt, culvert! A madman Charles is not,
No treachery was ever in his thought.
Proudly he did, who left us in this post;
The fame of France the Douce shall not be lost.
Strike on, the Franks! Ours are the foremost blows.
For we are right, but these gluttons are wrong."
AOI.
XCIV
A duke there was, his name was Falfarun,
Brother was he to King Marsiliun,
He held their land, Dathan's and Abirun's;
Beneath the sky no more encrimed felun;
Between his eyes so broad was he in front
A great half-foot you'ld measure there in full.
His nephew dead he's seen with grief enough,
Comes through the press and wildly forth he runs,
Aloud he shouts their cry the pagans use;
And to the Franks is right contrarious:
"Honour of France the Douce shall fall to us!"
Hears Oliver, he's very furious,
His horse he pricks with both his golden spurs,
And goes to strike, ev'n as a baron doth;
The shield he breaks and through the hauberk cuts,
His ensign's fringe into the carcass thrusts,
On his spear's hilt he's flung it dead in dust.
Looks on the ground, sees glutton lying thus,
And says to him, with reason proud enough:
"From threatening, culvert, your mouth I've shut.
Strike on, the Franks! Right well we'll overcome."
"Monjoie," he shouts, 'twas the ensign of Carlun.
AOI.
XCV
A king there was, his name was Corsablix,
Barbarian, and of a strange country,
He's called aloud to the other Sarrazins:
"Well may we join battle upon this field,
For of the Franks but very few are here;
And those are here, we should account them cheap,
From Charles not one has any warranty.
This is the day when they their death shall meet."
Has heard him well that Archbishop Turpin,
No man he'ld hate so much the sky beneath;
Spurs of fine gold he pricks into his steed,
To strike that king by virtue great goes he,
The hauberk all unfastens, breaks the shield,
Thrusts his great spear in through the carcass clean,
Pins it so well he shakes it in its seat,
Dead in the road he's flung it from his spear.
Looks on the ground, that glutton lying sees,
Nor leaves him yet, they say, but rather speaks:
"Culvert pagan, you lied now in your teeth,
Charles my lord our warrant is indeed;
None of our Franks hath any mind to flee.
Your companions all on this spot we'll keep,
I tell you news; death shall ye suffer here.
Strike on, the Franks! Fail none of you at need!
Ours the first blow, to God the glory be!"
"Monjoie!" he cries, for all the camp to hear.
XCVI
And Gerins strikes Malprimis of Brigal
So his good shield is nothing worth at all,
Shatters the boss, was fashioned of crystal,
One half of it downward to earth flies off;
Right to the flesh has through his hauberk torn,
On his good spear he has the carcass caught.
And with one blow that pagan downward falls;
The soul of him Satan away hath borne.
AOI.
XCVII
And his comrade Gerers strikes the admiral,
The shield he breaks, the hauberk unmetals,
And his good spear drives into his vitals,
So well he's pinned him, clean through the carcass,
Dead on the field he's flung him from his hand.
Says Oliver: "Now is our battle grand."
XCVIII
Sansun the Duke goes strike that almacour,
The shield he breaks, with golden flowers tooled,
That good hauberk for him is nothing proof,
He's sliced the heart, the lungs and liver through,
And flung him dead, as well or ill may prove.
Says the Archbishop: "A baron's stroke, in truth."
XCIX
And Anseis has let his charger run;
He goes to strike Turgis of Turtelus,
The shield he breaks, its golden boss above,
The hauberk too, its doubled mail undoes,
His good spear's point into the carcass runs,
So well he's thrust, clean through the whole steel comes,
And from the hilt he's thrown him dead in dust.
Then says Rollant: "Great prowess in that thrust."
C
And Engelers the Gascoin of Burdele
Spurs on his horse, lets fall the reins as well,
He goes to strike Escremiz of Valtrene,
The shield he breaks and shatters on his neck,
The hauberk too, he has its chinguard rent,
Between the arm-pits has pierced him through the breast,
On his spear's hilt from saddle throws him dead;
After he says "So are you turned to hell."
AOI.
CI
And Otes strikes a pagan Estorgant
Upon the shield, before its leathern band,
Slices it through, the white with the scarlat;
The hauberk too, has torn its folds apart,
And his good spear thrusts clean through the carcass,
And flings it dead, ev'n as the horse goes past;
He says: "You have no warrant afterward."
CII
And Berenger, he strikes Estramariz,
The shield he breaks, the hauberk tears and splits,
Thrusts his stout spear through's middle, and him flings
Down dead among a thousand Sarrazins.
Of their dozen peers ten have now been killed,
No more than two remain alive and quick,
Being Chernuble, and the count Margariz.
CIII
Margariz is a very gallant knight,
Both fair and strong, and swift he is and light;
He spurs his horse, goes Oliver to strike,
And breaks his shield, by th'golden buckle bright;
Along his ribs the pagan's spear doth glide;
God's his warrant, his body has respite,
The shaft breaks off, Oliver stays upright;
That other goes, naught stays him in his flight,
His trumpet sounds, rallies his tribe to fight.
CIV
Common the fight is now and marvellous.
The count Rollanz no way himself secures,
Strikes with his spear, long as the shaft endures,
By fifteen blows it is clean broken through
Then Durendal he bares, his sabre good
Spurs on his horse, is gone to strike Chemuble,
The helmet breaks, where bright carbuncles grew,
Slices the cap and shears the locks in two,
Slices also the eyes and the features,
The hauberk white, whose mail was close of woof,
Down to the groin cuts all his body through
To the saddle; with beaten gold 'twas tooled.
Upon the horse that sword a moment stood,
Then sliced its spine, no join there any knew,
Dead in the field among thick grass them threw.
After he said "Culvert, false step you moved,
From Mahumet your help will not come soon.
No victory for gluttons such as you."
CV
The count Rollanz, he canters through the field,
Holds Durendal, he well can thrust and wield,
Right great damage he's done the Sarrazines
You'd seen them, one on other, dead in heaps,
Through all that place their blood was flowing clear!
In blood his arms were and his hauberk steeped,
And bloodied o'er, shoulders and neck, his steed.
And Oliver goes on to strike with speed;
No blame that way deserve the dozen peers,
For all the Franks they strike and slay with heat,
Pagans are slain, some swoon there in their seats,
Says the Archbishop: "Good baronage indeed!"
"Monjoie" he cries, the call of Charles repeats.
AOI.
CVI
And Oliver has cantered through the crush;
Broken his spear, the truncheon still he thrusts;
Going to strike a pagan Malsarun;
Flowers and gold, are on the shield, he cuts,
Out of the head both the two eyes have burst,
And all the brains are fallen in the dust;
He flings him dead, sev'n hundred else amongst.
Then has he slain Turgin and Esturgus;
Right to the hilt, his spear in flinders flew.
Then says Rollant: "Companion, what do you?
In such a fight, there's little strength in wood,
Iron and steel should here their valour prove.
Where is your sword, that Halteclere I knew?
Golden its hilt, whereon a crystal grew."
Says Oliver: "I had not, if I drew,
Time left to strike enough good blows and true."
AOI.
CVII
Then Oliver has drawn his mighty sword
As his comrade had bidden and implored,
In knightly wise the blade to him has shewed;
Justin he strikes, that Iron Valley's lord,
All of his head has down the middle shorn,
The carcass sliced, the broidered sark has torn,
The good saddle that was with old adorned,
And through the spine has sliced that pagan's horse;
Dead in the field before his feet they fall.
Says Rollant: "Now my brother I you call;
He'll love us for such blows, our Emperor."
On every side "Monjoie" you'ld hear them roar.
AOI.
CVIII
That count Gerins sate on his horse Sorel,
On Passe-Cerf was Gerers there, his friend;
They've loosed their reins, together spurred and sped,
And go to strike a pagan Timozel;
One on the shield, on hauberk the other fell;
And their two spears went through the carcass well,
A fallow field amidst they've thrown him dead.
I do not know, I never heard it said
Which of the two was nimbler as they went.
Esperveris was there, son of Borel,
And him there slew Engelers of Burdel.
And the Archbishop, he slew them Siglorel,
The enchanter, who before had been in hell,
Where Jupiter bore him by a magic spell.
Then Turpin says "To us he's forfeited."
Answers Rollanz: "The culvert is bested.
Such blows, brother Olivier, I like well."
CIX
The battle grows more hard and harder yet,
Franks and pagans, with marvellous onset,
Each other strike and each himself defends.
So many shafts bloodstained and shattered,
So many flags and ensigns tattered;
So many Franks lose their young lustihead,
Who'll see no more their mothers nor their friends,
Nor hosts of France, that in the pass attend.
Charles the Great weeps therefor with regret.
What profits that? No succour shall they get.
Evil service, that day, Guenes rendered them,
To Sarraguce going, his own to sell.
After he lost his members and his head,
In court, at Aix, to gallows-tree condemned;
And thirty more with him, of his kindred,
Were hanged, a thing they never did expect.
AOI.
CX
Now marvellous and weighty the combat,
Right well they strike, Olivier and Rollant,
A thousand blows come from the Archbishop's hand,
The dozen peers are nothing short of that,
With one accord join battle all the Franks.
Pagans are slain by hundred, by thousand,
Who flies not then, from death has no warrant,
Will he or nill, foregoes the allotted span.
The Franks have lost the foremost of their band,
They'll see no more their fathers nor their clans,
Nor Charlemagne, where in the pass he stands.
Torment arose, right marvellous, in France,
Tempest there was, of wind and thunder black,
With rain and hail, so much could not be spanned;
Fell thunderbolts often on every hand,
And verily the earth quaked in answer back
From Saint Michael of Peril unto Sanz,
From Besencun to the harbour of Guitsand;
No house stood there but straight its walls must crack:
In full mid-day the darkness was so grand,
Save the sky split, no light was in the land.
Beheld these things with terror every man,
And many said: "We in the Judgement stand;
The end of time is presently at hand."
They spake no truth; they did not understand;
'Twas the great day of mourning for Rollant.
CXI
The Franks strike on; their hearts are good and stout.
Pagans are slain, a thousandfold, in crowds,
Left of five score are not two thousands now.
Says the Archbishop: "Our men are very proud,
No man on earth has more nor better found.
In Chronicles of Franks is written down,
What vassalage he had, our Emperour."
Then through the field they go, their friends seek out,
And their eyes weep with grief and pain profound
For kinsmen dear, by hearty friendship bound.
King Marsilies and his great host draw round.
AOI.
CXII
King Marsilies along a valley led
The mighty host that he had gathered.
Twenty columns that king had numbered.
With gleaminag gold their helms were jewelled.
Shone too their shields and sarks embroidered.
Sounded the charge seven thousand trumpets,
Great was the noise through all that country went.
Then said Rollanz: "Olivier, brother, friend,
That felon Guenes hath sworn to achieve our death;
For his treason no longer is secret.
Right great vengeance our Emperour will get.
Battle we'll have, both long and keenly set,
Never has man beheld such armies met.
With Durendal my sword I'll strike again,
And, comrade, you shall strike with Halteclere.
These swords in lands so many have we held,
Battles with them so many brought to end,
No evil song shall e'er be sung or said."
AOI.
CXIII
When the Franks see so many there, pagans,
On every side covering all the land,
Often they call Olivier and Rollant,
The dozen peers, to be their safe warrant.
And the Archbishop speaks to them, as he can:
"My lords barons, go thinking nothing bad!
For God I pray you fly not hence but stand,
Lest evil songs of our valour men chant!
Far better t'were to perish in the van.
Certain it is, our end is near at hand,
Beyond this day shall no more live one man;
But of one thing I give you good warrant:
Blest Paradise to you now open stands,
By the Innocents your thrones you there shall have."
Upon these words grow bold again the Franks;
There is not one but he "Monjoie" demands.
AOI.
CXIV
A Sarrazin was there, of Sarraguce,
Of that city one half was his by use,
'Twas Climborins, a man was nothing proof;
By Guenelun the count an oath he took,
And kissed his mouth in amity and truth,
Gave him his sword and his carbuncle too.
Terra Major, he said, to shame he'ld put,
From the Emperour his crown he would remove.
He sate his horse, which he called Barbamusche,
Never so swift sparrow nor swallow flew,
He spurred him well, and down the reins he threw,
Going to strike Engelier of Gascune;
Nor shield nor sark him any warrant proved,
The pagan spear's point did his body wound,
He pinned him well, and all the steel sent through,
From the hilt flung him dead beneath his foot.
After he said: "Good are they to confuse.
Pagans, strike on, and so this press set loose!"
"God!" say the Franks, "Grief, such a man to lose!"
AOI.
CXV
The count Rollanz called upon Oliver:
"Sir companion, dead now is Engeler;
Than whom we'd no more valiant chevalier."
Answered that count: "God, let me him avenge!"
Spurs of fine gold into his horse drove then,
Held Halteclere, with blood its steel was red,
By virtue great to strike that pagan went,
Brandished his blade, the Sarrazin upset;
The Adversaries of God his soul bare thence.
Next he has slain the duke Alphaien,
And sliced away Escababi his head,
And has unhorsed some seven Arabs else;
No good for those to go to war again.
Then said Rollanz: "My comrade shews anger,
So in my sight he makes me prize him well;
More dear by Charles for such blows are we held."
Aloud he's cried: "Strike on, the chevaliers!"
AOI.
CXVI
From the other part a pagan Valdabron.
Warden he'd been to king Marsilion,
And lord, by sea, of four hundred dromonds;
No sailor was but called his name upon;
Jerusalem he'd taken by treason,
Violated the Temple of Salomon,
The Partiarch had slain before the fonts.
He'd pledged his oath by county Guenelon,
Gave him his sword, a thousand coins thereon.
He sate his horse, which he called Gramimond,
Never so swift flew in the air falcon;
He's pricked him well, with sharp spurs he had on,
Going to strike e'en that rich Duke, Sanson;
His shield has split, his hauberk has undone,
The ensign's folds have through his body gone,
Dead from the hilt out of his seat he's dropt:
"Pagans, strike on, for well we'll overcome!"
"God!" say the Franks, "Grief for a brave baron!"
AOI.
CXVII
The count Rollanz, when Sansun dead he saw,
You may believe, great grief he had therefor.
His horse he spurs, gallops with great effort,
Wields Durendal, was worth fine gold and more,
Goes as he may to strike that baron bold
Above the helm, that was embossed with gold,
Slices the head, the sark, and all the corse,
The good saddle, that was embossed with gold,
And cuts deep through the backbone of his horse;
He's slain them both, blame him for that or laud.
The pagans say: "'Twas hard on us, that blow."
Answers Rollanz: "Nay, love you I can not,
For on your side is arrogance and wrong."
AOI.
CXVIII
Out of Affrike an Affrican was come,
'Twas Malquiant, the son of king Malcud;
With beaten gold was all his armour done,
Fore all men's else it shone beneath the sun.
He sate his horse, which he called Salt-Perdut,
Never so swift was any beast could run.
And Anseis upon the shield he struck,
The scarlat with the blue he sliced it up,
Of his hauberk he's torn the folds and cut,
The steel and stock has through his body thrust.
Dead is that count, he's no more time to run.
Then say the Franks: "Baron, an evil luck!"
CXIX
Swift through the field Turpin the Archbishop passed;
Such shaven-crown has never else sung Mass
Who with his limbs such prowess might compass;
To th'pagan said "God send thee all that's bad!
One thou hast slain for whom my heart is sad."
So his good horse forth at his bidding ran,
He's struck him then on his shield Toledan,
Until he flings him dead on the green grass.
CXX
From the other part was a pagan Grandones,
Son of Capuel, the king of Capadoce.
He sate his horse, the which he called Marmore,
Never so swift was any bird in course;
He's loosed the reins, and spurring on that horse
He's gone to strike Gerin with all his force;
The scarlat shield from's neck he's broken off,
And all his sark thereafter has he torn,
The ensign blue clean through his body's gone,
Until he flings him dead, on a high rock;
His companion Gerer he's slain also,
And Berenger, and Guiun of Santone;
Next a rich duke he's gone to strike, Austore,
That held Valence and the Honour of the Rhone;
He's flung him dead; great joy the pagans shew.
Then say the Franks: "Of ours how many fall."
CXXI
The count Rollanz, his sword with blood is stained,
Well has he heard what way the Franks complained;
Such grief he has, his heart would split in twain:
To the pagan says: "God send thee every shame!
One hast thou slain that dearly thou'lt repay."
He spurs his horse, that on with speed doth strain;
Which should forfeit, they both together came.
CXXII
Grandonie was both proof and valiant,
And virtuous, a vassal combatant.
Upon the way there, he has met Rollant;
He'd never seen, yet knew him at a glance,
By the proud face and those fine limbs he had,
By his regard, and by his contenance;
He could not help but he grew faint thereat,
He would escape, nothing avail he can.
Struck him the count, with so great virtue, that
To the nose-plate he's all the helmet cracked,
Sliced through the nose and mouth and teeth he has,
Hauberk close-mailed, and all the whole carcass,
Saddle of gold, with plates of silver flanked,
And of his horse has deeply scarred the back;
He's slain them both, they'll make no more attack:
The Spanish men in sorrow cry, "Alack!"
Then say the Franks: "He strikes well, our warrant."
CXXIII
Marvellous is the battle in its speed,
The Franks there strike with vigour and with heat,
Cutting through wrists and ribs and chines in-deed,
Through garments to the lively flesh beneath;
On the green grass the clear blood runs in streams.
The pagans say: "No more we'll suffer, we.
Terra Major, Mahummet's curse on thee!
Beyond all men thy people are hardy!"
There was not one but cried then: "Marsilie,
Canter, O king, thy succour now we need!"
CXXIV
Marvellous is the battle now and grand,
The Franks there strike, their good brown spears in hand.
Then had you seen such sorrowing of clans,
So many a slain, shattered and bleeding man!
Biting the earth, or piled there on their backs!
The Sarrazins cannot such loss withstand.
Will they or nill, from off the field draw back;
By lively force chase them away the Franks.
AOI.
CXXV
Their martyrdom, his men's, Marsile has seen,
So he bids sound his horns and his buccines;
Then canters forth with all his great army.
Canters before a Sarrazin, Abisme,
More felon none was in that company;
Cankered with guile and every felony,
He fears not God, the Son of Saint Mary;
Black is that man as molten pitch that seethes;
Better he loves murder and treachery
Than to have all the gold of Galicie;
Never has man beheld him sport for glee;
Yet vassalage he's shown, and great folly,
So is he dear to th' felon king Marsile;
Dragon he bears, to which his tribe rally.
That Archbishop could never love him, he;
Seeing him there, to strike he's very keen,
Within himself he says all quietly:
"This Sarrazin great heretick meseems,
Rather I'ld die, than not slay him clean,
Neer did I love coward nor cowardice."
AOI.
CXXVI
That Archbishop begins the fight again,
Sitting the horse which he took from Grossaille
—That was a king he had in Denmark slain;—
That charger is swift and of noble race;
Fine are his hooves, his legs are smooth and straight,
Short are his thighs, broad crupper he displays,
Long are his ribs, aloft his spine is raised,
White is his tail and yellow is his mane,
Little his ears, and tawny all his face;
No beast is there, can match him in a race.
That Archbishop spurs on by vassalage,
He will not pause ere Abisme he assail;
So strikes that shield, is wonderfully arrayed,
Whereon are stones, amethyst and topaze,
Esterminals and carbuncles that blaze;
A devil's gift it was, in Val Metase,
Who handed it to the admiral Galafes;
So Turpin strikes, spares him not anyway;
After that blow, he's worth no penny wage;
The carcass he's sliced, rib from rib away,
So flings him down dead in an empty place.
Then say the Franks: "He has great vassalage,
With the Archbishop, surely the Cross is safe."
CXXVII
The count Rollanz calls upon Oliver:
"Sir companion, witness you'll freely bear,
The Archbishop is a right good chevalier,
None better is neath Heaven anywhere;
Well can he strike with lance and well with spear."
Answers that count: "Support to him we'll bear!"
Upon that word the Franks again make yare;
Hard are the blows, slaughter and suffering there,
For Christians too, most bitter grief and care.
Who could had seen Rollanz and Oliver
With their good swords to strike and to slaughter!
And the Archbishop lays on there with his spear.
Those that are dead, men well may hold them dear.
In charters and in briefs is written clear,
Four thousand fell, and more, the tales declare.
Gainst four assaults easily did they fare,
But then the fifth brought heavy griefs to bear.
They all are slain, those Frankish chevaliers;
Only three-score, whom God was pleased to spare,
Before these die, they'll sell them very dear.
AOI.
CXXVIII
The count Rollant great loss of his men sees,
His companion Olivier calls, and speaks:
"Sir and comrade, in God's Name, That you keeps,
Such good vassals you see lie here in heaps;
For France the Douce, fair country, may we weep,
Of such barons long desolate she'll be.
Ah! King and friend, wherefore are you not here?
How, Oliver, brother, can we achieve?
And by what means our news to him repeat?"
Says Oliver: "I know not how to seek;
Rather I'ld die than shame come of this feat."
AOI.
CXXIX
Then says Rollanz: "I'll wind this olifant,
If Charles hear, where in the pass he stands,
I pledge you now they will return, the Franks."
Says Oliver: "Great shame would come of that
And a reproach on every one, your clan,
That shall endure while each lives in the land,
When I implored, you would not do this act;
Doing it now, no raise from me you'll have:
So wind your horn but not by courage rash,
Seeing that both your arms with blood are splashed."
Answers that count: "Fine blows I've struck them back."
AOI.
CXXX
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 vassal'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.
CXXXI
Then says Rollanz: "Wherefore so wroth with me?"
He answers him: "Comrade, it was your deed:
Vassalage 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 God 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.
CXXXII
That Archbishop has heard them, how they spoke,
His horse he pricks with his fine spurs of gold,
Coming to them he takes up his reproach:
"Sir Oliver, and you, Sir Rollant, both,
For God 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.
CXXXIII
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 pass 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, God stays so tolerant.
Noples he took, not waiting your command;
Thence issued forth the Sarrazins, a band
With vassalage 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.
CXXXV
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 noble 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 shields 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 pass 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.
CCXXXVII
That even-tide is light as was the day;
Their armour shines beneath the sun's clear ray,
Hauberks and helms throw off a dazzling flame,
And blazoned shields, 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.
CXXXVIII
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 God 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.
CXXXIX
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.
—God! 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 God to you be kind!
And all your souls redeem for Paradise!
And let you there mid holy flowers lie!
Better vassals 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;
God be your aid, Who never yet hath lied!
I must not fail now, brother, by your side;
Save I be slain, for sorrow shall I die.
Sir companion, let us again go strike!"
CXLI
The count Rollanz, back to the field then hieing
Holds Durendal, and like a vassal striking
Faldrun of Pui has through the middle sliced,
With twenty-four of all they rated highest;
Was never man, for vengeance shewed such liking.
Even as a stag before the hounds goes flying,
Before Rollanz the pagans scatter, frightened.
Says the Archbishop: "You deal now very wisely!
Such valour should he shew that is bred knightly,
And beareth arms, and a good charger rideth;
In battle should be strong and proud and sprightly;
Or otherwise he is not worth a shilling,
Should be a monk in one of those old minsters,
Where, day, by day, he'ld pray for us poor sinners."
Answers Rollant: "Strike on; no quarter give them!"
Upon these words Franks are again beginning;
Very great loss they suffer then, the Christians.
CXLII
The man who knows, for him there's no prison,
In such a fight with keen defence lays on;
Wherefore the Franks are fiercer than lions.
Marsile you'd seen go as a brave baron,
Sitting his horse, the which he calls Gaignon;
He spurs it well, going to strike Bevon,
That was the lord of Beaune and of Dijon,
His shield he breaks, his hauberk has undone,
So flings him dead, without condition;
Next he hath slain Yvoerie and Ivon,
Also with them Gerard of Russillon.
The count Rollanz, being not far him from,
To th'pagan says: "Confound thee our Lord God!
So wrongfully you've slain my companions,
A blow you'll take, ere we apart be gone,
And of my sword the name I'll bid you con."
He goes to strike him, as a brave baron,
And his right hand the count clean slices off;
Then takes the head of Jursaleu the blond;
That was the son of king Marsilion.
Pagans cry out "Assist us now, Mahom!
God of our race, avenge us on Carlon!
Into this land he's sent us such felons
That will not leave the fight before they drop."
Says each to each: "Nay let us fly!" Upon
That word, they're fled, an hundred thousand gone;
Call them who may, they'll never more come on.
AOI.
CXLIII
But what avail? Though fled be Marsilies,
He's left behind his uncle, the alcaliph
Who holds Alferne, Kartagene, Garmalie,
And Ethiope, a cursed land indeed;
The blackamoors from there are in his keep,
Broad in the nose they are and flat in the ear,
Fifty thousand and more in company.
These canter forth with arrogance and heat,
Then they cry out the pagans' rallying-cheer;
And Rollant says: "Martyrdom we'll receive;
Not long to live, I know it well, have we;
Felon he's named that sells his body cheap!
Strike on, my lords, with burnished swords and keen;
Contest each inch your life and death between,
That neer by us Douce France in shame be steeped.
When Charles my lord shall come into this field,
Such discipline of Sarrazins he'll see,
For one of ours he'll find them dead fifteen;
He will not fail, but bless us all in peace."
AOI.
CXLIV
When Rollant sees those misbegotten men,
Who are more black than ink is on the pen
With no part white, only their teeth except,
Then says that count: "I know now very well
That here to die we're bound, as I can tell.
Strike on, the Franks! For so I recommend."
Says Oliver: "Who holds back, is condemned!"
Upon those words, the Franks to strike again.
CXLV
Franks are but few; which, when the pagans know,
Among themselves comfort and pride they shew;
Says each to each: "Wrong was that Emperor."
Their alcaliph upon a sorrel rode,
And pricked it well with both his spurs of gold;
Struck Oliver, behind, on the back-bone,
His hauberk white into his body broke,
Clean through his breast the thrusting spear he drove;
After he said: "You've borne a mighty blow.
Charles the great should not have left you so;
He's done us wrong, small thanks to him we owe;
I've well avenged all ours on you alone."
CXLVI
Oliver feels that he to die is bound,
Holds Halteclere, whose steel is rough and brown,
Strikes the alcaliph on his helm's golden mount;
Flowers and stones fall clattering to the ground,
Slices his head, to th'small teeth in his mouth;
So brandishes his blade and flings him down;
After he says: "Pagan, accurst be thou!
Thou'lt never say that Charles forsakes me now;
Nor to thy wife, nor any dame thou'st found,
Thou'lt never boast, in lands where thou wast crowned,
One pennyworth from me thou'st taken out,
Nor damage wrought on me nor any around."
After, for aid, "Rollant!" he cries aloud.
AOI.
CXLVII
Oliver feels that death is drawing nigh;
To avenge himself he hath no longer time;
Through the great press most gallantly he strikes,
He breaks their spears, their buckled shields doth slice,
Their feet, their fists, their shoulders and their sides,
Dismembers them: whoso had seen that sigh,
Dead in the field one on another piled,
Remember well a vassal brave he might.
Charles ensign he'll not forget it quite;
Aloud and clear "Monjoie" again he cries.
To call Rollanz, his friend and peer, he tries:
"My companion, come hither to my side.
With bitter grief we must us now divide."
AOI.
CXLVIII
Then Rollant looked upon Olivier's face;
Which was all wan and colourless and pale,
While the clear blood, out of his body sprayed,
Upon the ground gushed forth and ran away.
"God!" said that count, "What shall I do or say?
My companion, gallant for such ill fate!
Neer shall man be, against thee could prevail.
Ah! France the Douce, henceforth art thou made waste
Of vassals brave, confounded and disgraced!
Our Emperour shall suffer damage great."
And with these words upon his horse he faints.
AOI.
CXLIX
You'd seen Rollant aswoon there in his seat,
And Oliver, who unto death doth bleed,
So much he's bled, his eyes are dim and weak;
Nor clear enough his vision, far or near,
To recognise whatever man he sees;
His companion, when each the other meets,
Above the helm jewelled with gold he beats,
Slicing it down from there to the nose-piece,
But not his head; he's touched not brow nor cheek.
At such a blow Rollant regards him keen,
And asks of him, in gentle tones and sweet:
"To do this thing, my comrade, did you mean?
This is Rollanz, who ever held you dear;
And no mistrust was ever us between."
Says Oliver: "Now can I hear you speak;
I see you not: may the Lord God you keep!
I struck you now: and for your pardon plead."
Answers Rollanz: "I am not hurt, indeed;
I pardon you, before God's Throne and here."
Upon these words, each to the other leans;
And in such love you had their parting seen.
CL
Oliver feels death's anguish on him now;
And in his head his two eyes swimming round;
Nothing he sees; he hears not any sound;
Dismounting then, he kneels upon the ground,
Proclaims his sins both firmly and aloud,
Clasps his two hands, heavenwards holds them out,
Prays God himself in Paradise to allow;
Blessings on Charles, and on Douce France he vows,
And his comrade, Rollanz, to whom he's bound.
Then his heart fails; his helmet nods and bows;
Upon the earth he lays his whole length out:
And he is dead, may stay no more, that count.
Rollanz the brave mourns him with grief profound;
Nowhere on earth so sad a man you'd found.
CLI
So Rollant's friend is dead whom when he sees
Face to the ground, and biting it with's teeth,
Begins to mourn in language very sweet:
"Unlucky, friend, your courage was indeed!
Together we have spent such days and years;
No harmful thing twixt thee and me has been.
Now thou art dead, and all my life a grief."
And with these words again he swoons, that chief,
Upon his horse, which he calls Veillantif;
Stirrups of gold support him underneath;
He cannot fall, whichever way he lean.
CLII
Soon as Rollant his senses won and knew,
Recovering and turning from that swoon.
Bitter great loss appeared there in his view:
Dead are the Franks; he'd all of them to lose,
Save the Archbishop, and save Gualter del Hum;
He is come down out of the mountains, who
Gainst Spanish men made there a great ado;
Dead are his men, for those the pagans slew;
Will he or nill, along the vales he flew,
And called Rollant, to bring him succour soon:
"Ah! Gentle count, brave soldier, where are you?
For By thy side no fear I ever knew.
Gualter it is, who conquered Maelgut,
And nephew was to hoary old Drouin;
My vassalage thou ever thoughtest good.
Broken my spear, and split my shield in two;
Gone is the mail that on my hauberk grew;
This body of mine eight lances have gone through;
I'm dying. Yet full price for life I took."
Rollant has heard these words and understood,
Has spurred his horse, and on towards him drew.
AOI.
CLIII
Grief gives Rollanz intolerance and pride;
Through the great press he goes again to strike;
To slay a score of Spaniards he contrives,
Gualter has six, the Archbishop other five.
The pagans say: "Men, these, of felon kind!
Lordings, take care they go not hence alive!
Felon he's named that does not break their line,
Recreant, who lets them any safety find!"
And so once more begin the hue and cry,
From every part they come to break the line.
AOI.
CLI
Count Rollant is a noble and brave soldier,
Gualter del Hum's a right good chevalier,
That Archbishop hath shewn good prowess there;
None of them falls behind the other pair;
Through the great press, pagans they strike again.
Come on afoot a thousand Sarrazens,
And on horseback some forty thousand men.
But well I know, to approach they never dare;
Lances and spears they poise to hurl at them,
Arrows, barbs, darts and javelins in the air.
With the first flight they've slain our Gualtier;
Turpin of Reims has all his shield broken,
And cracked his helm; he's wounded in the head,
From his hauberk the woven mail they tear,
In his body four spear-wounds doth he bear;
Beneath him too his charger's fallen dead.
Great grief it was, when that Archbishop fell.
AOI.
CLV
Turpin of Reims hath felt himself undone,
Since that four spears have through his body come;
Nimble and bold upon his feet he jumps;
Looks for Rollant, and then towards him runs,
Saying this word: "I am not overcome.
While life remains, no good vassal gives up."
He's drawn Almace, whose steel was brown and rough,
Through the great press a thousand blows he's struck:
As Charles said, quarter he gave to none;
He found him there, four hundred else among,
Wounded the most, speared through the middle some,
Also there were from whom the heads he'd cut:
So tells the tale, he that was there says thus,
The brave Saint Giles, whom God made marvellous,
Who charters wrote for th' Minster at Loum;
Nothing he's heard that does not know this much.
CLVI
The count Rollanz has nobly fought and well,
But he is hot, and all his body sweats;
Great pain he has, and trouble in his head,
His temples burst when he the horn sounded;
But he would know if Charles will come to them,
Takes the olifant, and feebly sounds again.
That Emperour stood still and listened then:
"My lords," said he, "Right evilly we fare!
This day Rollanz, my nephew shall be dead:
I hear his horn, with scarcely any breath.
Nimbly canter, whoever would be there!
Your trumpets sound, as many as ye bear!"
Sixty thousand so loud together blare,
The mountains ring, the valleys answer them.
The pagans hear, they think it not a jest;
Says each to each: "Carlum doth us bestead."
AOI.
CLVII
The pagans say: "That Emperour's at hand,
We hear their sound, the trumpets of the Franks;
If Charles come, great loss we then shall stand,
And wars renewed, unless we slay Rollant;
All Spain we'll lose, our own clear father-land."
Four hundred men of them in helmets stand;
The best of them that might be in their ranks
Make on Rollanz a grim and fierce attack;
Gainst these the count had well enough in hand.
AOI.
CLVIII
The count Rollanz, when their approach he sees
Is grown so bold and manifest and fierce
So long as he's alive he will not yield.
He sits his horse, which men call Veillantif,
Pricking him well with golden spurs beneath,
Through the great press he goes, their line to meet,
And by his side is the Archbishop Turpin.
"Now, friend, begone!" say pagans, each to each;
"These Frankish men, their horns we plainly hear
Charle is at hand, that King in Majesty."
CLIX
The count Rollanz has never loved cowards,
Nor arrogant, nor men of evil heart,
Nor chevalier that was not good vassal.
That Archbishop, Turpins, he calls apart:
"Sir, you're afoot, and I my charger have;
For love of you, here will I take my stand,
Together we'll endure things good and bad;
I'll leave you not, for no incarnate man:
We'll give again these pagans their attack;
The better blows are those from Durendal."
Says the Archbishop: "Shame on him that holds back!
Charle is at hand, full vengeance he'll exact."
CLX
The pagans say: "Unlucky were we born!
An evil day for us did this day dawn!
For we have lost our peers and all our lords.
Charles his great host once more upon us draws,
Of Frankish men we plainly hear the horns,
"Monjoie" they cry, and great is their uproar.
The count Rollant is of such pride and force
He'll never yield to man of woman born;
Let's aim at him, then leave him on the spot!"
And aim they did: with arrows long and short,
Lances and spears and feathered javelots;
Count Rollant's shield they've broken through and bored,
The woven mail have from his hauberk torn,
But not himself, they've never touched his corse;
Veillantif is in thirty places gored,
Beneath the count he's fallen dead, that horse.
Pagans are fled, and leave him on the spot;
The count Rollant stands on his feet once more.
AOI.
CLXI
Pagans are fled, enangered and enraged,
Home into Spain with speed they make their way;
The count Rollanz, he has not given chase,
For Veillantif, his charger, they have slain;
Will he or nill, on foot he must remain.
To the Archbishop, Turpins, he goes with aid;
I He's from his head the golden helm unlaced,
Taken from him his white hauberk away,
And cut the gown in strips, was round his waist;
On his great wounds the pieces of it placed,
Then to his heart has caught him and embraced;
On the green grass he has him softly laid,
Most sweetly then to him has Rollant prayed:
"Ah! Gentle sir, give me your leave, I say;
Our companions, whom we so dear appraised,
Are now all dead; we cannot let them stay;
I will go seek and bring them to this place,
Arrange them here in ranks, before your face."
Said the Archbishop: "Go, and return again.
This field is yours and mine now; God be praised!"
CLXII
So Rollanz turns; through the field, all alone,
Searching the vales and mountains, he is gone;
He finds Gerin, Gerers his companion,
Also he finds Berenger and Otton,
There too he finds Anseis and Sanson,
And finds Gerard the old, of Rossillon;
By one and one he's taken those barons,
To the Archbishop with each of them he comes,
Before his knees arranges every one.
That Archbishop, he cannot help but sob,
He lifts his hand, gives benediction;
After he's said: "Unlucky, Lords, your lot!
But all your souls He'll lay, our Glorious God,
In Paradise, His holy flowers upon!
For my own death such anguish now I've got;
I shall not see him, our rich Emperor."
CLXIII
So Rollant turns, goes through the field in quest;
His companion Olivier finds at length;
He has embraced him close against his breast,
To the Archbishop returns as he can best;
Upon a shield he's laid him, by the rest;
And the Archbishop has them absolved and blest:
Whereon his grief and pity grow afresh.
Then says Rollanz: "Fair comrade Olivier,
You were the son of the good count Reinier,
Who held the march by th' Vale of Runier;
To shatter spears, through buckled shields to bear,
And from hauberks the mail to break and tear,
Proof men to lead, and prudent counsel share,
Gluttons in field to frighten and conquer,
No land has known a better chevalier."
CLXIV
The count Rollanz, when dead he saw his peers,
And Oliver, he held so very dear,
Grew tender, and began to shed a tear;
Out of his face the colour disappeared;
No longer could he stand, for so much grief,
Will he or nill, he swooned upon the field.
Said the Archbishop: "Unlucky lord, indeed!"
CLXV
When the Archbishop beheld him swoon, Rollant,
Never before such bitter grief he'd had;
Stretching his hand, he took that olifant.
Through Rencesvals a little river ran;
He would go there, fetch water for Rollant.
Went step by step, to stumble soon began,
So feeble he is, no further fare he can,
For too much blood he's lost, and no strength has;
Ere he has crossed an acre of the land,
His heart grows faint, he falls down forwards and
Death comes to him with very cruel pangs.
CLXVI
The count Rollanz wakes from his swoon once more,
Climbs to his feet; his pains are very sore;
Looks down the vale, looks to the hills above;
On the green grass, beyond his companions,
He sees him lie, that noble old baron;
'Tis the Archbishop, whom in His name wrought God;
There he proclaims his sins, and looks above;
Joins his two hands, to Heaven holds them forth,
And Paradise prays God to him to accord.
Dead is Turpin, the warrior of Charlon.
In battles great and very rare sermons
Against pagans ever a champion.
God grant him now His Benediction!
AOI.
CLXVII
The count Rollant sees the Archbishop lie dead,
Sees the bowels out of his body shed,
And sees the brains that surge from his forehead;
Between his two arm-pits, upon his breast,
Crossways he folds those hands so white and fair.
Then mourns aloud, as was the custom there:
"Thee, gentle sir, chevalier nobly bred,
To the Glorious Celestial I commend;
Neer shall man be, that will Him serve so well;
Since the Apostles was never such prophet,
To hold the laws and draw the hearts of men.
Now may your soul no pain nor sorrow ken,
Finding the gates of Paradise open!"
CLXVIII
Then Rollanz feels that death to him draws near,
For all his brain is issued from his ears;
He prays to God that He will call the peers,
Bids Gabriel, the angel, t' himself appear.
Takes the olifant, that no reproach shall hear,
And Durendal in the other hand he wields;
Further than might a cross-bow's arrow speed
Goes towards Spain into a fallow-field;
Climbs on a cliff; where, under two fair trees,
Four terraces, of marble wrought, he sees.
There he falls down, and lies upon the green;
He swoons again, for death is very near.
CLXIX
High are the peaks, the trees are very high.
Four terraces of polished marble shine;
On the green grass count Rollant swoons thereby.
A Sarrazin him all the time espies,
Who feigning death among the others hides;
Blood hath his face and all his body dyed;
He gets afoot, running towards him hies;
Fair was he, strong and of a courage high;
A mortal hate he's kindled in his pride.
He's seized Rollant, and the arms, were at his side,
"Charles nephew," he's said, "here conquered lies.
To Araby I'll bear this sword as prize."
As he drew it, something the count descried.
CLXX
So Rollant felt his sword was taken forth,
Opened his eyes, and this word to him spoke
"Thou'rt never one of ours, full well I know."
Took the olifant, that he would not let go,
Struck him on th' helm, that jewelled was with gold,
And broke its steel, his skull and all his bones,
Out of his head both the two eyes he drove;
Dead at his feet he has the pagan thrown:
After he's said: "Culvert, thou wert too bold,
Or right or wrong, of my sword seizing hold!
They'll dub thee fool, to whom the tale is told.
But my great one, my olifant I broke;
Fallen from it the crystal and the gold."
CLXXI
Then Rollanz feels that he has lost his sight,
Climbs to his feet, uses what strength he might;
In all his face the colour is grown white.
In front of him a great brown boulder lies;
Whereon ten blows with grief and rage he strikes;
The steel cries out, but does not break outright;
And the count says: "Saint Mary, be my guide
Good Durendal, unlucky is your plight!
I've need of you no more; spent is my pride!
We in the field have won so many fights,
Combating through so many regions wide
That Charles holds, whose beard is hoary white!
Be you not his that turns from any in flight!
A good vassal has held you this long time;
Never shall France the Free behold his like."
CLXXII
Rollant hath struck the sardonyx terrace;
The steel cries out, but broken is no ways.
So when he sees he never can it break,
Within himself begins he to complain:
"Ah! Durendal, white art thou, clear of stain!
Beneath the sun reflecting back his rays!
In Moriane was Charles, in the vale,
When from heaven God by His angel bade
Him give thee to a count and capitain;
Girt thee on me that noble King and great.
I won for him with thee Anjou, Bretaigne,
And won for him with thee Peitou, the Maine,
And Normandy the free for him I gained,
Also with thee Provence and Equitaigne,
And Lumbardie and all the whole Romaigne,
I won Baivere, all Flanders in the plain,
Also Burguigne and all the whole Puillane,
Costentinnople, that homage to him pays;
In Saisonie all is as he ordains;
With thee I won him Scotland, Ireland, Wales,
England also, where he his chamber makes;
Won I with thee so many countries strange
That Charles holds, whose beard is white with age!
For this sword's sake sorrow upon me weighs,
Rather I'ld die, than it mid pagans stay.
Lord God Father, never let France be shamed!"
CLXXIII
Rollant his stroke on a dark stone repeats,
And more of it breaks off than I can speak.
The sword cries out, yet breaks not in the least,
Back from the blow into the air it leaps.
Destroy it can he not; which when he sees,
Within himself he makes a plaint most sweet.
"Ah! Durendal, most holy, fair indeed!
Relics enough thy golden hilt conceals:
Saint Peter's Tooth, the Blood of Saint Basile,
Some of the Hairs of my Lord, Saint Denise,
Some of the Robe, was worn by Saint Mary.
It is not right that pagans should thee seize,
For Christian men your use shall ever be.
Nor any man's that worketh cowardice!
Many broad lands with you have I retrieved
Which Charles holds, who hath the great white beard;
Wherefore that King so proud and rich is he."
CLXXIV
But Rollant felt that death had made a way
Down from his head till on his heart it lay;
Beneath a pine running in haste he came,
On the green grass he lay there on his face;
His olifant and sword beneath him placed,
Turning his head towards the pagan race,
Now this he did, in truth, that Charles might say
(As he desired) and all the Franks his race;—
'Ah, gentle count; conquering he was slain!'—
He owned his faults often and every way,
And for his sins his glove to God upraised.
AOI.
CLXXV
But Rollant feels he's no more time to seek;
Looking to Spain, he lies on a sharp peak,
And with one hand upon his breast he beats:
"Mea Culpa! God, by Thy Virtues clean
Me from my sins, the mortal and the mean,
Which from the hour that I was born have been
Until this day, when life is ended here!"
Holds out his glove towards God, as he speaks
Angels descend from heaven on that scene.
AOI.
CLXXVI
The count Rollanz, beneath a pine he sits;
Turning his eyes towards Spain, he begins
Remembering so many divers things:
So many lands where he went conquering,
And France the Douce, the heroes of his kin,
And Charlemagne, his lord who nourished him.
Nor can he help but weep and sigh at this.
But his own self, he's not forgotten him,
He owns his faults, and God's forgiveness bids:
"Very Father, in Whom no falsehood is,
Saint Lazaron from death Thou didst remit,
And Daniel save from the lions' pit;
My soul in me preserve from all perils
And from the sins I did in life commit!"
His right-hand glove, to God he offers it
Saint Gabriel from's hand hath taken it.
Over his arm his head bows down and slips,
He joins his hands: and so is life finish'd.
God sent him down His angel cherubin,
And Saint Michael, we worship in peril;
And by their side Saint Gabriel alit;
So the count's soul they bare to Paradis.
CLXXVII
Rollant is dead; his soul to heav'n God bare.
That Emperour to Rencesvals doth fare.
There was no path nor passage anywhere
Nor of waste ground no ell nor foot to spare
Without a Frank or pagan lying there.
Charles cries aloud: "Where are you, nephew fair?
Where's the Archbishop and that count Oliviers?
Where is Gerins and his comrade Gerers?
Otes the Duke, and the count Berengiers
And Ivorie, and Ive, so dear they were?
What is become of Gascon Engelier,
Sansun the Duke and Anseis the fierce?
Where's old Gerard of Russillun; oh, where
The dozen peers I left behind me here?"
But what avail, since none can answer bear?
"God!" says the King, "Now well may I despair,
I was not here the first assault to share!"
Seeming enraged, his beard the King doth tear.
Weep from their eyes barons and chevaliers,
A thousand score, they swoon upon the earth;
Duke Neimes for them was moved with pity rare.
CLXXVIII
No chevalier nor baron is there, who
Pitifully weeps not for grief and dule;
They mourn their sons, their brothers, their nephews,
And their liege lords, and trusty friends and true;
Upon the ground a many of them swoon.
Thereon Duke Neimes doth act with wisdom proof,
First before all he's said to the Emperour:
"See beforehand, a league from us or two,
From the highways dust rising in our view;
Pagans are there, and many them, too.
Canter therefore! Vengeance upon them do!"
"Ah, God!" says Charles, "so far are they re-moved!
Do right by me, my honour still renew!
They've torn from me the flower of France the Douce."
The King commands Gebuin and Otun,
Tedbalt of Reims, also the count Milun:
"Guard me this field, these hills and valleys too,
Let the dead lie, all as they are, unmoved,
Let not approach lion, nor any brute,
Let not approach esquire, nor any groom;
For I forbid that any come thereto,
Until God will that we return anew."
These answer him sweetly, their love to prove:
"Right Emperour, dear Sire, so will we do."
A thousand knights they keep in retinue.
AOI.
CLXXIX
That Emperour bids trumpets sound again,
Then canters forth with his great host so brave.
Of Spanish men, whose backs are turned their way,
Franks one and all continue in their chase.
When the King sees the light at even fade,
On the green grass dismounting as he may,
He kneels aground, to God the Lord doth pray
That the sun's course He will for him delay,
Put off the night, and still prolong the day.
An angel then, with him should reason make,
Nimbly enough appeared to him and spake:
"Charles, canter on! Light needst not thou await.
The flower of France, as God knows well, is slain;
Thou canst be avenged upon that crimeful race."
Upon that word mounts the Emperour again.
AOI.
CLXXX
For Charlemagne a great marvel God planned:
Making the sun still in his course to stand.
So pagans fled, and chased them well the Franks
Through the Valley of Shadows, close in hand;
Towards Sarraguce by force they chased them back,
And as they went with killing blows attacked:
Barred their highways and every path they had.
The River Sebre before them reared its bank,
'Twas very deep, marvellous current ran;
No barge thereon nor dromond nor caland.
A god of theirs invoked they, Tervagant.
And then leaped in, but there no warrant had.
The armed men more weighty were for that,
Many of them down to the bottom sank,
Downstream the rest floated as they might hap;
So much water the luckiest of them drank,
That all were drowned, with marvellous keen pangs.
"An evil day," cry Franks, "ye saw Rollant!"
CLXXXI
When Charles sees that pagans all are dead,
Some of them slain, the greater part drowned;
(Whereby great spoils his chevaliers collect)
That gentle King upon his feet descends,
Kneels on the ground, his thanks to God presents.
When he once more rise, the sun is set.
Says the Emperour "Time is to pitch our tents;
To Rencesvals too late to go again.
Our horses are worn out and foundered:
Unsaddle them, take bridles from their heads,
And through these meads let them refreshment get."
Answer the Franks: "Sire, you have spoken well."
AOI.
CLXXXII
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.
CLXXXIII
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 speak
Whereby 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 sanctity
The name Joiuse was for that sword decreed.
Barons of France may not forgetful be
Whence comes the ensign "Monjoie," they cry at need;
Wherefore no race against them can succeed.
CLXXXIV
Clear was the night, the moon shone radiant.
Charles laid him down, but sorrow for Rollant
And Oliver, most heavy on him he had,
For's dozen peers, for all the Frankish band
He 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.
CLXXXV
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 then
A battle, should be fought against him yet,
Significance of griefs demonstrated.
Charles looked up towards the sky, and there
Thunders 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.
CLXXXVI
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, spake
Said 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 assailed
On 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.
CLXXXVII
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 Bramimunde
Bewailed 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.
CLXXXVIII
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 be
Of 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."
CLXXXIX
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 brief
To 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 Christianity
And 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.
CXC
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 place
Lanterns enough, and carbuncles so great
Thence, from above, such light they dissipate
The sea's more clear at midnight than by day.
And when they come into the land of Spain
All that country lightens and shines again:
Of their coming Marsile has heard the tale.
AOI.
CXCI
The pagan race would never rest, but come
Out 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.
CXCII
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.
CXCIII
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 tell
Against 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."
CXCIV
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 Mahum
And 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.
CXCV
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 Apoline
Preserve 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.
CXCVI
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 France
And 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.
CXCVII
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.
CXCVIII
Then says Marsile: "The Emperour, Charles the Great
Hath 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.
CXCIX
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 clout
From 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.
CC
"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."
CCI
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.
CCII
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.
CCIII
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 fast
Through those long ways, and through those roads so large;
They go to see the marvellous damage
In Rencesvals, there where the battle was.
AOI.
CCIV
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 realm
Ere 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.
CCV
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.
CCVI
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 knight
So to engage and so to end a fight.
Now my honour is turned into decline!"
Charle swoons again, he cannot stand upright.
AOI.
CCVII
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 blooms
Of 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 dolour
There was not one but sorely wept for rue.
AOI.
CCVIII
"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.
CCIX
"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.
CCX
"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 grief
For 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.
CCXI
"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.
CCXII
Gefreid d'Anjou upon his trumpet sounds;
As Charles bade them, all the Franks dismount.
All of their friends, whose bodies they have found
To 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.
CCXIII
That Emperour sets Rollant on one side
And 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.
CCXIV
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.
CCXC
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.
AOI.
CCXVI
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.
CCXVII
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.
AOI.
CCXVIII
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.
CCXIX
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.
AOI.
CCXX
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.
AOI.
CCXXI
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.
CCXXII
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.
AOI.
CCXXIII
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.
AOI.
CCXXIV
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.
AOI.
CCXXV
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.
AOI.
CCXXVI
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.
CCXXVII
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."
CCXXVIII
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.
CCXXIX
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.
CCXXX
"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."
AOI.
CCXXXI
"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.
CCXXXII
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."
CCXXXIII
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.
CCXXXIV
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.
CCXXXV
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.
CCXXXVI
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.
CCXXXVII
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.
CCXXXVIII
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 beards
Which 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 peeled
Goes 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.
CCXXXIX
Charles the Great, when he sees the admiral
And the dragon, his ensign and standard;—
(In such great strength are mustered those Arabs
Of that country they've covered every part
Save 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."
CCXL
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 Guinemans
Let 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.
CCXLI
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.
CCXLII
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.
CCXLIII
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.
CCXLIV
Great are the hosts; the companies in pride
Come touching, all the breadth of either side;
And the pagans do marvellously strike.
So many shafts, by God! in pieces lie
And crumpled shields, and sarks with mail untwined!
So spattered all the earth there would you find
That through the field the grass so green and fine
With 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.
CCXLV
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.
CCXLVI
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 wreak
Who 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.
CCXLVII
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.
CCXLVIII
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.
CCXLIX
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.
CCL
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.
CCLI
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.
CCLII
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.
CCLIII
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 Apollin
And 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.
CCLIV
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."
CCLV
That admiral has shaken out his beard
That 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 meet
Dead from that shock they've seven thousand heaped.
CCLVI
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 remove
Unless 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.
CCLVII
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 breaks
That 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.
CCLVIII
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 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 vassal-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 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 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 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.
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;
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?"
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, God wills not they remain.
And Franks have all their wish, be that what may.
CCLXIII
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 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 God 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! 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.
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 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!
CCLXVI
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 wield
They 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 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
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 down
And Oliver, his noble 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 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.
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."
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.
CCLXIX
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 dead
Four 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.
CCLXX
That Emperour is now returned to Aix.
The felon Guene, all in his iron chains
Is 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.
CCLXXI
Written it is, and in an ancient geste
How 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 defence
Of Guenelun, who had the treason spelt.
Before himself the Emperour has him led.
AOI.
CCLXXII
"Lords and barons," Charles the King doth speak,
"Of Guenelun judge what the right may be!
He was in th'host, even in Spain with me;
There of my Franks a thousand score did steal,
And my nephew, whom never more you'll see,
And Oliver, in 's pride and courtesy,
And, wealth to gain, betrayed the dozen peers."
"Felon be I," said Guenes, "aught to conceal!
He did from me much gold and wealth forfeit,
Whence to destroy and slay him did I seek;
But treason, no; I vow there's not the least."
Answer the Franks: "Take counsel now must we."
CCLXXIII
So Guenelun, before the King there, stood;
Lusty his limbs, his face of gentle hue;
Were he loyal, right baron-like he'd looked.
He saw those Franks, and all who'ld judge his doom,
And by his side his thirty kinsmen knew.
After, he cried aloud; his voice was full:
"For th' Love of God, listen to me, baruns!
I was in th' host, beside our Emperour,
Service I did him there in faith and truth.
Hatred of me had Rollant, his nephew;
So he decreed death for me and dolour.
Message I bare to king Marsiliun;
By my cunning I held myself secure.
To that fighter Rollant my challenge threw,
To Oliver, and all their comrades too;
Charles heard that, and his noble baruns.
Vengeance I gat, but there's no treason proved."
Answered the Franks: "Now go we to the moot.
CCLXXIV
When Guenes sees, his great cause is beginning,
Thirty he has around him of his kinsmen,
There's one of them to whom the others listen,
'Tis Pinabel, who in Sorence castle liveth;
Well can he speak, soundly his reasons giving,
A good vassal, whose arm to fight is stiffened.
Says to him Guenes: "In you my faith is fixed.
Save me this day from death, also from prison."
Says Pinabel: "Straightway you'll be delivered.
Is there one Frank, that you to hang committeth?
Let the Emperour but once together bring us,
With my steel brand he shall be smartly chidden."
Guenes the count kneels at his feet to kiss them.
CCLXXV
To th' counsel go those of Bavier and Saxe,
Normans also, with Poitevins and Franks;
Enough there are of Tudese and Germans.
Those of Alverne the greatest court'sy have,
From Pinabel most quietly draw back.
Says each to each: "'Twere well to let it stand.
Leave we this cause, and of the King demand
That he cry quits with Guenes for this act;
With love and faith he'll serve him after that.
Since he is dead, no more ye'll see Rollanz,
Nor any wealth nor gold may win him back.
Most foolish then is he, would do combat."
There is but one agrees not to their plan;
Tierri, brother to Don Geifreit, 's that man.
AOI.
CCLXXVI
Then his barons, returning to Carlun,
Say to their King: "Sire, we beseech of you
That you cry quits with county Guenelun,
So he may serve you still in love and truth;
Nay let him live, so noble a man 's he proved.
Rollant is dead, no longer in our view,
Nor for no wealth may we his life renew."
Then says the King: "You're felons all of you!"
AOI.
CCLXXVII
When Charles saw that all of them did fail,
Deep down he bowed his head and all his face
For th' grief he had, caitiff himself proclaimed.
One of his knights, Tierris, before him came,
Gefrei's brother, that Duke of Anjou famed;
Lean were his limbs, and lengthy and delicate,
Black was his hair and somewhat brown his face;
Was not too small, and yet was hardly great;
And courteously to the Emperour he spake:
"Fair' Lord and King, do not yourself dismay!
You know that I have served you many ways:
By my ancestors should I this cause maintain.
And if Rollant was forfeited to Guenes
Still your service to him full warrant gave.
Felon is Guene, since th' hour that he betrayed,
And, towards you, is perjured and ashamed:
Wherefore I judge that he be hanged and slain,
His carcass flung to th' dogs beside the way,
As a felon who felony did make.
But, has he a friend that would dispute my claim
With this my sword which I have girt in place
My judgement will I warrant every way."
Answer the Franks: "Now very well you spake."
CCLXXVIII
Before the King is come now Pinabel;
Great is he, strong, vassalous and nimble;
Who bears his blow has no more time to dwell:
Says to him: "Sire, on you this cause depends;
Command therefore this noise be made an end.
See Tierri here, who hath his judgment dealt;
I cry him false, and will the cause contest."
His deer-hide glove in the King's hand he's left.
Says the Emperour: "Good pledges must I get."
Thirty kinsmen offer their loyal pledge.
"I'll do the same for you," the King has said;
Until the right be shewn, bids guard them well.
AOI.
CCLXXIX
When Tierri sees that battle shall come after,
His right hand glove he offereth to Chares.
That Emperour by way of hostage guards it;
Four benches then upon the place he marshals
Where sit them down champions of either party.
They're chos'n aright, as the others' judgement cast them;
Oger the Dane between them made the parley.
Next they demand their horses and their armour.
AOI.
CCLXXX
For battle, now, ready you might them see,
They're well confessed, absolved, from sin set free;
Masses they've heard, Communion received,
Rich offerings to those minsters they leave.
Before Carlun now both the two appear:
They have their spurs, are fastened on their feet,
And, light and strong, their hauberks brightly gleam;
Upon their heads they've laced their helmets clear,
And girt on swords, with pure gold hilted each;
And from their necks hang down their quartered shields;
In their right hands they grasp their trenchant spears.
At last they mount on their swift coursing steeds.
Five score thousand chevaliers therefor weep,
For Rollant's sake pity for Tierri feel.
God knows full well which way the end shall be.
CCLXXXI
Down under Aix there is a pasture large
Which for the fight of th' two barons is marked.
Proof men are these, and of great vassalage,
And their horses, unwearied, gallop fast;
They spur them well, the reins aside they cast,
With virtue great, to strike each other, dart;
All of their shields shatter and rend apart.
Their hauberks tear; the girths asunder start,
The saddles slip, and fall upon the grass.
Five score thousand weep, who that sight regard.
AOI.
CCLXXXII
Upon the ground are fallen both the knights;
Nimbly enough upon their feet they rise.
Nimble and strong is Pinabels, and light.
Each the other seeks; horses are out of mind,
But with those swords whose hilts with gold are lined
Upon those helms of steel they beat and strike:
Great are the blows, those helmets to divide.
The chevaliers of France do much repine.
"O God!" says Charles, "Make plain to us the right!"
CCLXXXIII
Says Pinabel "Tierri, I pray thee, yield:
I'll be thy man, in love and fealty;
For the pleasure my wealth I'll give to thee;
But make the King with Guenelun agree."
Answers Tierri: "Such counsel's not for me.
Pure felon I, if e'er I that concede!
God shall this day the right shew, us between!"
AOI.
CCLXXXIV
Then said Tierri "Bold art thou, Pinabel,
Thou'rt great and strong, with body finely bred;
For vassalage thy peers esteem thee well:
Of this battle let us now make an end!
With Charlemagne I soon will have thee friends;
To Guenelun such justice shall be dealt
Day shall not dawn but men of it will tell."
"Please the Lord God, not so!" said Pinabel.
"I would sustain the cause of my kindred
No mortal man is there from whom I've fled;
Rather I'ld die than hear reproaches said."
Then with their swords began to strike again
Upon those helms that were with gold begemmed
Into the sky the bright sparks rained and fell.
It cannot be that they be sundered,
Nor make an end, without one man be dead.
AOI.
CCLXXXV
He's very proof, Pinabel of Sorence,
Tierri he strikes, on 's helmet of Provence,
Leaps such a spark, the grass is kindled thence;
Of his steel brand the point he then presents,
On Tierri's brow the helmet has he wrenched
So down his face its broken halves descend;
And his right cheek in flowing blood is drenched;
And his hauberk, over his belly, rent.
God's his warrant, Who death from him prevents.
AOI.
CCLXXXVI
Sees Tierris then 'that in the face he's struck,
On grassy field runs clear his flowing blood;
Strikes Pinabel on 's helmet brown and rough,
To the nose-piece he's broken it and cut,
And from his head scatters his brains in th' dust;
Brandishes him on th' sword, till dead he's flung.
Upon that blow is all the battle won.
Franks cry aloud: "God hath great virtue done.
It is proved right that Guenelun be hung.
And those his kin, that in his cause are come."
AOI.
CCLXXXVII
Now that Tierris the battle fairly wins,
That Emperour Charles is come to him;
Forty barons are in his following.
Naimes the Duke, Oger that Danish Prince,
Geifrei d'Anjou, Willalme of Blaive therewith.
Tierri, the King takes in his arms to kiss;
And wipes his face with his great marten-skins;
He lays them down, and others then they bring;
The chevaliers most sweetly disarm him;
An Arab mule they've brought, whereon he sits.
With baronage and joy they bring him in.
They come to Aix, halt and dismount therein.
The punishment of the others then begins.
CCLXXXVIII
His counts and Dukes then calls to him Carlun:
"With these I guard, advise what shall be done.
Hither they came because of Guenelun;
For Pinabel, as pledges gave them up."
Answer the Franks: "Shall not of them live one."
The King commands his provost then, Basbrun:
"Go hang them all on th' tree of cursed wood!
Nay, by this beard, whose hairs are white enough,
If one escape, to death and shame thou'rt struck!"
He answers him: "How could I act, save thus?"
With an hundred serjeants by force they come;
Thirty of them there are, that straight are hung.
Who betrays man, himself and 's friends undoes.
AOI.
CCLXXXIX
Then turned away the Baivers and Germans
And Poitevins and Bretons and Normans.
Fore all the rest, 'twas voted by the Franks
That Guenes die with marvellous great pangs;
So to lead forth four stallions they bade;
After, they bound his feet and both his hands;
Those steeds were swift, and of a temper mad;
Which, by their heads, led forward four sejeants
Towards a stream that flowed amid that land.
Sones fell Gue into perdition black;
All his sinews were strained until they snapped,
And all the limbs were from his body dragged.
On the green grass his clear blood gushed and ran.
Guenes is dead, a felon recreant.
Who betrays man, need make no boast of that.
CCXC
When the Emperour had made his whole vengeance,
He called to him the Bishops out of France,
Those of Baviere and also the Germans:
"A dame free-born lies captive in my hands,
So oft she's heard sermons and reprimands,
She would fear God, and christening demands.
Baptise her then, so God her soul may have."
They answer him: "Sponsors the rite demands,
Dames of estate and long inheritance."
The baths at Aix great companies attract;
There they baptised the Queen of Sarazands,
And found for her the name of Juliane.
Christian is she by very cognisance.
CCXCI
When the Emperour his justice hath achieved,
His mighty wrath's abated from its heat,
And Bramimunde has christening received;
Passes the day, the darkness is grown deep,
And now that King in 's vaulted chamber sleeps.
Saint Gabriel is come from God, and speaks:
"Summon the hosts, Charles, of thine Empire,
Go thou by force into the land of Bire,
King Vivien thou'lt succour there, at Imphe,
In the city which pagans have besieged.
The Christians there implore thee and beseech."
Right loth to go, that Emperour was he:
"God!" said the King: "My life is hard indeed!"
Tears filled his eyes, he tore his snowy beard.
SO ENDS THE TALE WHICH TUROLD HATH CONCEIVED.
Old french text
Laisses I - XLIX
f.1r
I
Carles li reis, nostre emper[er]e magnes
Set anz tuz pleins ad estet en Espaigne:
Tresqu'en la mer cunquist la tere altaigne.
N'i ad castel ki devant lui remaigne;
5
Mur ne citet n'i est remes a fraindre,
Fors Sarraguce, ki est en une muntaigne.
Li reis Marsilie la tient, ki Deu nen aimet;
Mahumet sert e Apollin recleimet:
Nes poet guarder que mals ne l'i ateignet. aoi.
II
10
Li reis Marsilie esteit en Sarraguce.
Alez en est en un verger suz l'umbre;
Sur un perrun de marbre bloi se culchet,
Envirun lui plus de vint milie humes.
Il en apelet e ses dux e ses cuntes:
15
«Oëz, seignurs, quel pecchet nus encumbret:
Li emper[er]es Carles de France dulce
En cest païs nos est venuz cunfundre.
Jo nen ai ost qui bataille li dunne,
Ne n'ai tel gent ki la sue derumpet.
20
Cunseilez mei cume mi savie hume,
Si m(e) guarisez e de mort et de hunte.»
N'i ad paien ki un sul mot respundet,
Fors Blancandrins de Castel de Valfunde.
III
Blancandrins fut des plus saives paiens:
25
De vasselage fut asez chevaler,
Prozdom i out pur sun seignur aider;
E dist al rei: «Ore ne vus esmaiez!
Mandez Carlun a l'orguillus, (e) al fier,
f.1v
Fedeilz servises e mult granz amistez.
30
Vos li durrez urs e leons e chens,
Set cenz camelz e mil hosturs muers,
D'or e d'argent .IIII.C. muls cargez,
Cinquante carre, qu'en ferat carier:
Ben en purrat luer ses soldeiers.
35
En ceste tere ad asez osteiet;
En France, ad Ais, s'en deit ben repairer.
Vos le sivrez a la feste seint Michel:
Si recevrez la lei de chrestiens,
Serez ses hom par honur e par ben.
40
S'en volt ostages, e vos l'en enveiez,
U dis u vint pur lui afiancer.
Enveiu[n]s i les filz de noz muillers:
Par nun d'ocire i enveierai le men.
f.2r
Asez est melz qu'il i perdent le chefs,
45
Que nus perduns l'onur ne la deintet,
Ne nus seiuns cunduiz a mendeier.» aoi.
IV
Dist Blancandrins: «Pa[r] ceste meie destre
E par la barbe ki al piz me ventelet,
L'ost des Franceis verrez sempres desfere.
50
Francs s'en irunt en France la lur tere.
Quant cascuns ert a sun meillor repaire,
Carles serat ad Ais, a sa capele;
A seint Michel tendrat mult halte feste.
Vendrat li jurz, si passerat li termes,
55
N'orrat de nos paroles ne nuveles.
Li reis est fiers e sis curages pesmes:
De noz ostages ferat tre[n]cher les testes;
Asez est mielz, qu'il i perdent les testes,
Que nus perduns clere Espaigne, la bele,
60
Ne nus aiuns les mals ne les suffraites.»
Dient paien: «Issi poet il ben estre!»
V
Li reis Marsilie out sun cunseill finet:
Sin apelat Clarin (...) de Balaguet,
Estamarin e Eudropin, sun per,
65
E Priamun e Guarlan le barbet,
E Machiner e sun uncle, Maheu,
E Joüner e Malbien d'ultremer,
E Blancandrins, por la raisun cunter.
Des plus feluns dís en ad apelez:
70
«Seignurs baruns, a Carlemagnes irez;
Il est al siege a Cordres la citet.
Branches d'olives en voz mains porterez,
Ço senefiet pais e humilitet.
Par voz saveirs sem puez acorder,
75
Jo vos durrai or e argent asez,
Teres e fiéz tant cum vos en vuldrez.»
Dient paien: «De ço avun nus asez!» aoi.
VI
Li reis Marsilie out finet sun cunseill;
Dist a ses humes: «Seignurs, vos en ireiz;
80
Branches d'olive en voz mains portereiz,
Si me direz a Carlemagne, le rei,
Pur le soen Deu qu'il ait m(er)ercit de mei.
Ja einz ne verrat passer cest premer meis,
Que jel sivrai od mil de mes fedeilz,
85
Si recevrai la chrestiene lei,
f.2v
[S]erai ses hom par amur e par feid;
S'il voelt ostages, il en avrat par veir.»
Dist Blancandrins: «Mult bon plait en avreiz.» aoi.
VII
Dis blanches mules fist amener Marsilies,
90
Que li tramist li reis de Suatilie;
Li frein sunt d'or, les seles d'argent mises.
Cil sunt muntez ki le message firent,
Enz en lur mains portent branches d'olive.
Vindrent a Charles ki France ad en baillie:
95
Nes poet guarder que alques ne l'engignent. aoi.
VIII
Li empereres se fait e balz e liez,
Cordres ad prise e les murs peceiez,
Od ses cadables les turs en abatied.
Mult grant eschech en unt si chevaler
100
D'or e d argent e de guarnemenz chers.
En la citet nen ad remes paien,
Ne seit ocis, u devient chrestien.
Li empereres est en un grant verger,
Ensembl od lui Rollant et oliver
105
Sansun li dux e anseis li fiers
Gefreid d anjou le rei gunfanuner,
E si i furent e gerin et gerers,
La u cist furent, des altres i out bien:
De dulce france i ad quinze milliers.
110
Sur palies blancs siedent cil cevaler,
As tables juent pur els esbaneier
E as eschecs li plus saive e li veill,
E escremissent cil bacheler leger.
f.3r
Desuz un pin delez un eglenter
115
Un faldestoed i unt fait tut d or mer,
La siet li reis, ki dulce france tient.
Blanche ad la barbe e tut flurit le chef,
Gent ad le cors e le cuntenant fier,
S'est, kil demandet, ne l estoet enseigner.
120
E li message descendirent a pied,
Sil saluerent par amur e par bien.
IX
Blancandrins ad tut premereins parled,
E dist al rei: «Salvez seiez de Deu
Le glorius, que de[v]u[n]s aürer!
125
Iço vus mandet reis Marsilies, li bers:
Enquis ad mult la lei de salvetez;
De sun aveir vos voelt asez duner,
Urs e leuns e veltres enchaignez,
Set cenz cameilz e mil hosturs muez,
130
D'or e d'argent .IIII. cenz muls trussez,
Cinquante care, que carier en ferez;
Tant i avrat de besanz esmerez
Dunt bien purrez voz soldeiers luer.
En cest païs avez estet asez;
135
En France, ad Ais, devez bien repairer;
La vos sivrat, ço dit mis avoez.»
Li empereres tent (...) ses mains vers Deu,
Baisset sun chef, si cumencet a penser. aoi.
X
Li empereres en tint sun chef enclin;
140
De sa parole ne fut mie hastifs:
Sa custume est qu'il parolet a leisír.
f.3v
Quant se redrecet, mult par out fier lu vis;
Dist as messages: «Vus avez mult ben dit.
Li reis Marsilies est mult mis enemis.
145
De cez paroles que vos avez ci dit,
En quel mesure en purrai estre fiz?»
– «Voet par hostages,» ço dist li Sarrazins,
«Dunt vos avrez ú dis ú quinze ú vint.
Pa[r] num de ocire i metrai un mien filz,
150
E sin avrez, ço quid, de plus gentilz.
Quant vus serez el palais seignurill,
A la grant feste seint Michel del Peril,
Mis avoez la vos sivrat, ço dit;
Enz en voz bainz que Deus pur vos i fist,
155
La vuldrat il chrestiens devenir.»
Charles respunt: «Uncore purrat guarir.» aoi.
XI
Bels fut li vespres e li soleilz fut cler.
Les dis mulez fait Char[l]es establer,
El grant verger fait li reis tendre un tref,
160
Les dis messages ad fait enz hosteler;
.XII. serjanz les unt ben cunreez.
La noit demurent tresque vint al jur cler.
Li empereres est par matin levet;
Messe e matines ad li reis escultet.
165
Desuz un pin en est li reis alez,
Ses baruns mandet pur sun cunseill finer:
Par cels de France voelt il del tut errer. aoi.
XII
Li emper[er]es s'en vait desuz un pin.
Ses baruns mandet pur sun cunseill fenir:
f.4r
Le duc Oger, (e) l'arcevesque Turpin,
Richard li Vélz e sun nev[old] Henri,
E de Gascuigne li proz quens Acelin
Tedbald de Reins e Milun, sun cusin;
E si i furent e Gerers e Gerin;
175
Ensembl' od els li quens Rollant i vint,
E Oliver, li proz e li gentilz;
Des Francs de France en i ad plus de mil.
Guenes i vint, ki la traïsun fist.
Des ore cumencet le cunseill que mal prist. aoi.
XIII
180
«Seignurs barons,» dist li emperere Carles,
«Li reis Marsilie m'ad tramis ses messages;
De sun aveir me voelt duner grant masse,
Urs e leuns e veltres caeignables,
Set cenz cameilz e mil hosturs muables,
185
Quatre cenz mulz cargez del ór d'Arabe,
Avoec iço plus de cinquante care;
Mais il me mandet que en France m'en alge:
Il me sivrat ad Aís, a mun estage,
Si recevrat la nostre lei plus salve;
190
Chrestiens ert, de mei tendrat ses marches;
Mais jo ne sai quels en est sis curages.»
Dient Franceis: «Il nus i cuvent guarde!» aoi.
XIV
Li empereres out sa raisun fenie.
Li quens Rollant, ki ne l'otriet mie,
195
En piez se drecet, si li vint cuntredire.
Il dist al rei: «Ja mar crerez Marsilie.
Set anz [ad] pleins, que en Espaigne venimes;
f.4v
Jo vos cunquis e Noples e Commibles,
Pris ai Valterne e la tere de Pine
200
E Balasgued e Tuele e Sezilie.
Li reis Marsilie i fist mult que traïtre:
De ses pai[ens il vus] enveiat quinze,
Cha(n)cuns portout une branche d'olive;
Nuncerent vos cez paroles meïsme.
205
A vos Franceis un cunseill en presistes:
Loerent vos alques de legerie.
Dous de voz cuntes al paien tramesistes,
L'un fut Basan e li altres Basilies;
Les chef en prist es puis desuz Haltilie.
210
Faites la guer[re] cum vos l'avez enprise:
En Sarraguce menez vostre ost banie,
Metez le sege a tute vostre vie,
Si vengez cels que li fels fist ocire!» aoi.
XV
Li empe[re]re en tint sun chef enbrunc,
215
Si duist sa barbe, afaitad sun gernun,
Ne ben ne mal ne respunt sun nevuld.
Franceis se taisent ne mais que Guenelun,
En piez se drecet, si vint devant Carlun,
Mult fierement cumencet sa raisun,
220
E dist al rei: «Ja mar crerez bricun,
Ne mei ne altre, se de vostre prod nun.
Quant ço vos mandet li reis Marsiliun,
Qu'il devendrat jointes ses mains tis hom,
E tute Espaigne tendrat par vostre dun,
f.5r
Puis recevrat la lei que nus tenum,
Ki ço vos lodet que cest plait degetuns,
Ne li chalt, sire, de quel mort nus muriuns.
Cunseill d orguill n'est dreiz que a plus munt,
Laissun les fols, as sages nus tenuns.» aoi.
XVI
230
Apres iço i est Neimes venud;
Meillor vassal n'aveit en la curt nul,
E dist al rei: «Ben l'avez entendud,
Guenes li quens ço vus ad respondud,
Saveir i ad, mais qu'il seit entendud.
235
Li reis Marsilie est de guere vencud:
Vos li avez tuz ses castels toluz,
Od voz caables avez fruiset ses murs,
Ses citez arses e ses humes vencuz;
Quant il vos mandet, qu'aiez mercit de lui,
240
Pecchet fereit, ki dunc li fesist plus,
U par ostage vos (en) voelt faire soürs;
Ceste grant guerre ne deit munter a plus.»
Dient Franceis: «Ben ad parlet li dux.» aoi.
XVII
– «Seignurs baruns, qui i enveieruns
245
En Sarraguce al rei Marsiliuns?»
Respunt dux Neimes: «Jo irai par vostre dun!
Livrez m'en ore le guant e le bastun.»
Respunt li reis: «Vos estes saives hom;
Par ceste barbe e par cest men gernun,
250
Vos n'irez pas uan de mei si luign.
f.5v
Alez sedeir, quant nuls ne vos sumunt.»
XVIII
– «Seignurs baruns, qui i purruns enveier
Al Sarrazin ki Sarraguce tient?»
Respunt Rollant: «Jo i puis aler mult ben!»
255
– «Nu ferez certes!» dist li quens Oliver;
«Vostre curages est mult pesmes e fiers;
Jo me crendreie, que vos vos meslisez.
Se li reis voelt, jo i puis aler ben.»
Respunt li reis: «Ambdui vos en taisez!
260
Ne vos ne il n'i porterez les piez.
Par ceste barbe que veez [blancheier],
Li duze per mar i serunt jugez!»
Franceis se taisent: as les vus aquisez.
XIX
Turpins de Reins en est levet del renc,
265
E dist al rei: «Laisez ester voz Francs!
En cest païs avez estet set anz;
Mult unt oüd e peines e ahans.
Dunez m'en, sire, le bastun e le guant,
E jo irai al Sarazin en Espaigne,
270
Sin vois vedeir alques de sun semblant.»
Li empereres respunt par maltalant:
«Alez sedeir desur cel palie blanc!
N'en parlez mais, se jo nel vos cumant!» aoi.
XX
– «Francs chevalers,» dist li emperere Carles,
275
«Car m'eslisez un barun de ma marche,
Qu'a Marsiliun me portast mun message.»
Ço dist Rollant: «Ço ert Guenes, mis parastre.»
Dient Franceis: «Car il le poet ben faire;
f.6r
Se lui lessez, n'i trametrez plus saive.»
280
E li quens Guenes en fut mult anguisables;
De sun col getet ses grandes pels de martre,
E est remes en sun blialt de palie.
Vairs out [les oilz] e mult fier lu visage,
Gent out le cors e les costez out larges;
285
Tant par fut bels tuit si per l'en esguardent.
Dist a Rollant: «Tut fol, pur quei t'esrages?
Ço set hom ben que jo sui tis parastres;
Si as juget qu'a Marsiliun en alge!
Se Deus ço dunet que jo de la repaire,
290
Jo t'en muvra[i] un si grant contr[a]ire
Ki durerat a trestut tun edage.»
Respunt Rollant: «Orgoill ói e folage.
Ço set hom ben, n'ai cure de manace;
Mai[s] saives hom, il deit faire message:
295
Si li reis voelt, prez sui por vus le face.»
XXI
Guenes respunt: «Pur mei n'iras tu mie! aoi.
Tu n'ies mes hom ne jo ne sui tis sire.
Carles comandet que face sun servise:
En Sarraguce en irai a Marsilie;
300
Einz i f[e]rai un poi de [le]gerie,
Que jo n'esclair ceste meie grant ire.»
Quant l'ot Rollant, si cumençat a rire. aoi.
XXII
Quant ço veit Guenes que ore s'en rit Rollant,
Dunc ad tel doel pur poi d'ire ne fent,
305
A ben petit que il ne pert le sens;
E dit al cunte: «Jo ne vus aim nient;
f.6v
Sur mei avez turnet fals jugement.
Dreiz emperere, veiz me ci en present,
Ademplir voeill vostre comandement.»
XXIII
310
«En Sarraguce sai ben, [qu']aler m'estoet. aoi.
Hom ki la vait, repairer ne s'en poet.
Ensurquetut si ai jo vostre soer,
Sin ai un filz, ja plus bels n'en estoet:
Ço est Baldewin,» ço dit, «ki ert prozdoem.
315
A lui lais jo mes honurs e mes fieus.
Gua[r]dez le ben, ja nel verrai des oilz.»
Carles respunt: «trop avez tendre coer.
Puisquel comant, aler vus en estoet.»
XXIV
Ço dist li reis: «Guenes venez avant. aoi.
320
Si recevez le bastun e lu guant.
Oït l'avez, sur vos le jugent Franc.»
– «Sire,» dist Guenes, «ço ad tut fait Rollant!
Ne l'amerai a trestut mun vivant,
Ne Oliver, por ço qu'il est si cumpainz;
325
Li duze per, por [ço] qu'il l'aiment tant,
Desfi les ci, sire, vostre veiant.»
Ço dist li reis: «Trop avez maltalant.
Or irez vos certes, quant jol cumant.»
– «Jo i puis aler, mais n'i avrai guarant: aoi.
330
Nu l'out Basilies ne sis freres Basant.»
XXV
Li empereres li tent sun guant le destre;
Mais li quens Guenes iloec ne volsist estre:
Quant le dut prendre, si li caït a tere.
f.7r
Dient Franceis: «Deus! que purrat ço estre?
335
De cest message nos avendrat grant perte.»
– «Seignurs» dist
Guenes, «vos en orrez noveles!»
XXVI
– «Sire,» dist Guenes, «dunez mei le cungied;
Quant aler dei, n'i ai plus que targer.»
Ço dist li reis: «Al Jhesu e al mien!»
340
De sa main destre l'ad asols e seignet,
Puis li livrat le bastun e le bref.
XXVII
Guenes li quens s'en vait a sun ostel,
De guarnemenz se prent a cunreer,
De ses meillors que il pout recuvrer:
345
Esperuns d'or ad en ses piez fermez,
Ceint Murglies, s'espee, a sun costed;
En Tachebrun, sun destrer est munted;
L'estreu li tint sun uncle Guinemer.
La veïsez tant chevaler plorer,
350
Ki tuit li dient «Tant mare fustes, ber!
En (la) cort al rei mult i avez ested,
Noble vassal vos i solt hom clamer.
Ki ço jugat, que doüsez aler
Par Charlemagne n'er(cs) guariz ne tensez.
355
Li quens Rollant nel se doüst penser,
Que estrait estes de mult grant parented.»
Enpres li dient: «Sire, car nos menez!»
Ço respunt Guenes: «Ne placet Damnedeu!
Mielz est que sul moerge que tant bon chevaler.
360
En dulce France, seignurs, vos en irez:
De meie part ma muiller saluez,
f.7v
E Pinabel, mun ami e mun per,
E Baldewin, mun filz que vos savez,
E lui aidez e pur seignur le tenez.»
365
Entret en sa veie, si s'est achiminez. aoi.
XXVIII
Guenes chevalchet suz une olive halte,
Asemblet s'est as sarrazins messag[es].
Mais Blancandrins ki envers lu s'atarget;
Par grant saveir parolet li uns a l'altre.
370
Dist Blancandrins: «Merveilus hom est Charles,
Ki cunquist Puille e trestute Calabre;
Vers Engletere passat il la mer salse,
Ad oes seint Perre en cunquist le chevage:
Que nus requert ça en la nostre marche?»
375
Guenes respunt: «Itels est sis curages,
Jamais n'ert hume ki encuntre lui vaille.» aoi.
XXIX
Dist Blancandrins: «Francs sunt mult gentilz home;
Mult grant mal funt e [cil] duc e cil cunte
A lur seignur, ki tel cunseill li dunent:
380
Lui e altrui travaillent, e cunfundent.»
Guenes respunt: «Jo ne sai veirs nul hume,
Ne mes Rollant, ki uncore en avrat hunte.
Er matin sedeit li emperere suz l'umbre;
Vint i ses nies, out vestue sa brunie,
385
E out predet dejuste Carcasonie;
En sa main tint une vermeille pume:
«Tenez bel sire,» dist Rollant a sun uncle,
«De trestuz reis vos present les curunes.»
Li soens orgoilz le devreit ben cunfundre,
390
Kar chascun jur de mort [il] s'abandunet.
f.8r
Seit, ki l'ociet, tute pais puis avriúmes.» aoi.
XXX
Dist Blancandrins: «Mult est pesmes Rollant,
Ki tute gent voelt faire recreant,
E tutes teres met en chalengement!
395
Par quele gent quiet il espleiter tant?»
Guenes respunt: «Par la franceise gent.
Il l'a[i]ment tant ne li faldrunt nient;
Or e argent lur met tant en present,
Muls e destrers, e palies e guarnemenz;
400
L'emperere meïsmes ad tut a sun talent.
Cunquerrat li les teres d'ici qu'en Orient.» aoi.
XXXI
Tant chevalcherent Guenes e Blancandrins,
Que l'un a l'altre la sue feit plevit,
Que il querreient, que Rollant fust ocis.
405
Tant chevalcherent e veies e chemins,
Que en Sarraguce descendent suz un if.
Un faldestoet out suz l'umbre d'un pin;
Esvolupet fut d'un palie alexandrin:
La fut li reis ki tute Espaigne tint;
410
Tut entur lui vint milie Sarrazins.
N'i ad celoi ki mot sunt ne mot tint,
Pur les nuveles qu'il vuldreient oïr.
Atant as vos Guenes e Blanchandrins.
XXXII
Blancandrins vint devant l'empereür;
415
Par le puig[n] tint le cunte Guenelun,
E dist al rei: «Salvez seiez de Mahun
E d'Apollin, qui seintes leis tenuns!
Vostre message fesime[s] a Charlun.
Ambes ses mains en levat cuntre munt,
f.8v
Loat sun Deu, ne fist altre respuns.
Ci vos enveiet un sun noble barun,
Ki est de France, si est mult riches hom:
Par lui orrez si avrez pais u nun.»
Respunt Marsilie: «Or diet, nus l'orrum!» aoi.
XXXIII
425
Mais li quens Guenes se fut ben purpenset.
Par grant saver cumencet a parler
Cume celui ki ben faire le set,
E dist al rei: «Salvez seiez de Deu
Li Glorius, qui devum aürer!
430
Iço vus mandet Carlemagnes, li ber,
Que recevez seinte chrestientet;
Demi Espaigne vos voelt en fiu duner.
Se cest acorde ne vulez otrier,
Pris e liez serez par poested;
435
Al siege ad Ais en serez amenet,
Par jugement serez iloec finet;
La murrez vus a hunte e a viltet.»
Li reis Marsilies en fut mult esfreed.
Un algier tint, ki d'or fut enpenet,
440
Ferir l'en volt, se n'en fust desturnet. aoi.
XXXIV
Li reis Marsilies ad la culur muee;
De sun algeir ad la hanste crollee.
Quant le vit Guenes, mist la main a l'espee,
Cuntre dous deie l'ad del furrer getee,
445
Si li ad dit: «Mult estes bele e clere!
Tant vus avrai en curt a rei portee!
Ja nel dirat de France li emperere,
Que suls i moerge en l'estrange cuntree,
f.9r
Einz vos avrunt li meillor comperee.»
450
Dient paien: «Desfaimes la mellee!»
XXXV
Tuit li preierent li meillor Sarrazin,
Qu'el faldestoed s'es[t] Marsilies asis.
Dist l'algalifes: «Mal nos avez baillit,
Que li Franceis asmastes a ferir;
455
Vos le doüssez esculter e oïr.»
– «Sire,» dist Guenes, «mei l'avent a suffrir;
Jo ne lerreie, por l'or que Deus fist
Ne por tut l'aveir, ki seit en cest païs,
Que jo ne li die, se tant ai de leisir,
460
Que Charles li mandet, li reis poesteïfs,
Par mei li mandet, sun mortel enemi.»
Afublez est d'un mantel sabelin,
Ki fut cuvert d'une palie alexandrin.
Getet le a tere, sil receit Blancandrin;
465
Mais de s'espee ne volt mie guerpir;
En sun puign destre par l'orie punt la tint.
Dient paien: «Noble baron ad ci!» aoi.
XXXVI
Envers le rei s'est Guenes aproismet,
Si li ad dit: «A tort vos curuciez,
470
Quar ço vos mandet Carles, ki France tient,
Que recevez la lei de chrestiens;
Demi Espaigne vus durat il en fiet.
L'altre meitet avrat Rollant, sis nies:
Mulz orguillos parçuner i avrez!
475
Si ceste acorde ne volez otrier,
En Sarraguce vus vendrat aseger;
Par poestet serez pris e liez;
Menet serez . . . [tut] dreit ad Ais le siet:
f.9v
Vus n'i avrez palefreid ne destrer,
480
Ne mul ne mule que puissez chevalcher;
Getet serez sur un malvais sumer.
Par jugement iloec perdrez le chef.
Nostre emperere vus enveiet cest bref.»
El destre poign al paien l'ad liv(e)ret.
XXXVII
485
Marsilies fut esculurez de l'ire;
Freint le seel, getet en ad la cire,
Guardet al bref, vit la raisun escrite:
«Carle me mandet, ki France ad en baillie,
Que me remembre de la dolur e (de) l'ire,
490
Ço est de Basan e de sun frere Basilie,
Dunt pris les chefs as puis de Haltoíe;
Se de mun cors voeil aquiter la vie,
Dunc li envei mun uncle, l'algalife;
Altrement ne m'amerat il mie.»
495
Apres parlat ses filz envers Marsilies,
E dist al rei: «Guenes ad dit folie;
Tant ad erret nen est dreiz que plus vivet.
Livrez le mei, jo en ferai la justise.»
Quant l'oït Guenes, l'espee en ad branlie;
500
Vait s'apuier suz le pin a la tige.
XXXVIII
Enz el verger s'en est alez li reis,
Ses meillors humes enmeinet ensembl'od sei:
E Blancandrins i vint, al canud peil,
E Jurfaret, ki est ses filz e ses heirs,
505
E l'algalifes, sun uncle e sis fedeilz.
Dist Blancandrins: «Apelez le Franceis,
De nostre prod m'ad plevie sa feid.»
f.10r
Ço dist li reis: «E vos l'i ameneiz.»
E Guenes (l')ad pris par la main destre ad deiz,
510
Enz el verger l'en meinet josqu'al rei.
La purparolent la traïson seinz dreit. aoi.
XXXIX
«Bel sire Guenes,» ço li ad dit Marsilie,
«Jo vos ai fait alques de legerie,
Quant por ferir vus demustrai grant ire.
515
Guaz vos en dreit par cez pels sabelines;
Melz en valt l'or que ne funt cinc cenz livres:
Einz demain noit en iert bele l'amendise.»
Guenes respunt: «Jo nel desotrei mie.
Deus se lui plaist, a bien le vos mercie!» aoi.
XL
520
Ço dist Marsilies: «Guenes par veir sacez,
En talant ai que mult vos voeill amer,
De Carlemagne vos voeill oïr parler.
Il est mult vielz, si ad sun tens uset;
Men escient dous cenz anz ad passet.
525
Par tantes teres ad sun cors demened,
Tanz [colps] ad pris sur sun escut bucler,
Tanz riches reis cunduit a mendisted:
Quant ert il mais recreanz d'osteier?»
Guenes respunt: «Carles n'est mie tels.
530
N'est hom kil veit e conuistre le set
Que ço ne diet que l'emperere est ber.
Tant nel vos sai ne preiser ne loer
Que plus n'i ad d'onur e de bontet.
Sa grant valor, kil purreit acunter?
535
De tel barnage l'ad Deus enluminet,
Meilz voelt murir que guerpir sun barnet.»
XLI
f.10v
Dist li paiens: «Mult me puis merveiller
De Carlemagne, ki est canuz e vielz!
Men escientre dous cenz anz ad e mielz.
540
Par tantes teres ad sun cors traveillet,
Tanz colz ad pris de lances e d'espiet,
Tanz riches reis cunduiz a mendistiet:
Quant ert il mais recreanz d'osteier?»
– «Ço n'iert,» dist Guenes: «tant cum vivet sis niés:
545
N'at tel vassal suz la cape del ciel.
Mult par est proz sis cumpainz Oliver.
Les .XII. pers, que Carles ad tant chers,
Funt les enguardes a .XX. milie chevalers.
Soürs est Carles, que nuls home ne crent.» aoi.
XLII
550
Dist li Sarrazins: «Merveille en ai grant
De Carlemagne, ki est canuz e blancs!
Mien escientre plus ad de .II.C. anz.
Par tantes teres est alet cunquerant,
Tanz colps ad pris de bons espiez trenchanz,
555
Tanz riches reis morz e vencuz en champ:
Quant ier il mais d'osteier recreant?»
– «Ço n'iert,» dist Guenes, «tant cum vivet Rollant:
N'ad tel vassal d'ici qu en Orient.
Mult par est proz Oliver, sis cumpainz;
560
Li .XII. per, que Carles aimet tant,
Funt les enguardes a .XX. milie de Francs,
Soürs est Carlles, ne (cre) crent hume vivant.» aoi.
XLIII
– «Bel sire Guenes» dist marsilies li reis,
«Jo ai tel gent, plus bele ne verreiz;
f.11r
Quarte cenz milie chevalers puis aveir.
Puis m'en cumbatre a Carlles e a Franceis?»
Guenes respunt: «Ne vus a ceste feiz!
De voz paiens mult grant perte i avreiz.
Lessez (la) folie, tenez vos al saveir.
570
L'empereür tant li dunez aveir,
N'i ait Franceis ki tot ne s'en merveilt.
Par .XX. hostages que li enveiereiz
En dulce France s'en repairerat li reis;
Sa rereguarde lerrat derere sei:
575
Iert i sis nies, li quens Rollant, (...) ço crei,
E Oliver, li proz e li curteis.
Mort sunt li cunte, se est ki mei en creit.
Carlles verrat sun grant orguill cadeir;
N'avrat talent, que ja mais vus guerreit.» aoi.
XLIV
580
– «Bel sire Guenes,[» ço dist li reis Marsilies,]
«Cum faitement purrai Rollant ocire?»
Guenes respont: «Ço vos sai jo ben dire.
Li reis serat as meillors porz de Sizer;
Sa rereguarde avrat detres sei mise;
585
Iert i sis nies, li quens Rollant, li riches,
E Oliver, en qui il tant se fiet;
.XX. milie Francs unt en lur cumpaignie.
De voz paiens lur enveiez .C. milie:
Une bataille lur i rendent cil primes;
590
La gent de France iert blecee e blesmie;
Nel di por ço, des voz iert la martirie.
Altre bataille lur livrez de meïsme:
De quel que seit Rollant n'estuertrat mie.
f.11v
Dunc avrez faite gente chevalerie;
595
N'avrez mais guere en tute vostre vie.» aoi.
XLV
– «Chi purreit faire, que Rollant i fust mort,
Dunc perdreit Carles le destre braz del cors,
Si remeindreient les merveilluses óz;
N'asemblereit jamais Carles si grant esforz;
600
Tere Major remeindreit en repos.»
Quan l'ot Marsilie, si l'ad baiset el col,
Puis si cumencet a venir ses tresors. aoi.
XLVI
Ço dist Marsilies: «Qu'en parlereient il plus?
Cunseill n'est proz dunt hume n'est sevus.
605
La traïsun me jurrez de Rollant si illi est.»
Ço respunt Guenes: «Issi seit cum vos plaist!»
Sur les reliques de s'espee Murgleis,
La traïsun jurat, e si s'en est forsfait. aoi.
XLVII
Un faldestoed i out d'un olifant;
610
Marsilies fait porter un livre avant:
La lei i fut Mahum e Tervagan.
Ço ad juret li Sarrazins espans:
Se en rereguarde troevet le cors Rollant,
Cumbatrat sei a trestute sa gent,
615
E, se il poet, murrat i veirement.
Guenes respunt: «Ben seit vostre comant!» aoi.
XLVIII
A tant i vint uns paiens, Valdabruns:
Icil en vait al rei Marsiliun;
Cler en riant l'ad dit a Guenelun:
620
«Tenez m'espee, meillur n'en at nuls hom;
Entre les helz ad plus de mil manguns.
f.12r
Par amistiez, bel sire, la vos duins,
Que (v)[n]os aidez de Rollant le barun,
Qu'en rereguarde trover le poüsum.»
625
– «Ben serat fait,» li quens Guenes respunt.
Puis se baiserent es vis e es mentuns.
XLIX
Apres i vint un paien, Climorins.
Cler en riant a Guenelun l'ad dit:
«Tenez mun helme, unches meillor ne vi.
630
Si nos aidez de Rollant li marchis,
Par quel mesure le poüssum hunir.»
– «Ben serat fait,» Guenes respundit.
Puis se baiserent es buches e es vis. aoi.
Laisses L - XCIX
L
A tant i vint la reine Bramimunde.
635
«Jo vos aim mult, sire,» dist ele al cunte,
«Car mult vos priset mi sire e tuit si hume.
A vostre femme enveierai dous nusches;
Bien i ad or, matices e jacunces:
Eles valent mielz que tut l'aveir de Rume,
640
Vostre emperere si bones n'en out unches.»
Il les ad prises, en sa hoese les butet, aoi.
LI
Li reis apelet Malduit sun tresorer:
«L'aveir Carlun est il apareillez?»
E cil respunt: «Oïl, sire, asez bien:
645
.VII.C. cameilz, d'or e argent cargiez,
E .XX. hostages, des plus gentilz desuz cel.» aoi.
LII
Marsilies tint Guen[elun] par l'espalle;
Si li ad dit: «Mult par ies ber e sage.
Par cele lei que vos tenez plus salve,
f.12v
Guardez de nos ne turnez le curage.
De mun aveir vos voeill dunner grant masse:
.X. muls cargez del plus fin or d'Arabe;
Jamais n'iert an, altretel ne vos face.
Tenez les clefs de ceste citet large,
655
Le grant aveir en presentez al rei Carles,
Pois me jugez Rollant a rereguarde.
Sel pois trover a port ne a passage,
Liverrai lui une mortel bataille.»
Guenes respunt: «Mei est vis que trop targe!»
660
Pois est munted, entret en sun veiage. aoi.
LIII
Li empereres aproismet sun repaire.
Venuz en est a la citet de Galne.
Li quens Rollant il l'ad e prise e fraite;
Puis icel jur en fut cent anz deserte.
665
De Guenelun atent li reis nuveles,
E le treüd d'Espaigne, la grant tere.
Par main en l'albe, si cum li jurz esclairet,
Guenes li quens est venuz as herberges. aoi.
LIV
Li empereres est par matin levet;
670
Messe e matines ad li reis escultet.
Sur l'erbe verte estut devant sun tref.
Rollant i fut e Oliver li ber,
Neimes li dux e des altres asez.
Guenes i vint, li fels, li parjurez.
675
Par grant veisdie cumencet a parler,
E dist al rei: «Salvez seiez de Deu!
De Sarraguce ci vos aport les clefs;
f.13r
Mult grant aveir vos en faz amener,
E .XX. hostages; faites les ben guarder!
680
E si vos mandet reis Marsilies li ber,
De l'algalifes nel devez pas blasmer,
Kar a mes oilz vi .IIII.C. milie armez,
Halbers vestuz, alquanz healmes fermez,
Ceintes espees as punz d'or neielez,
685
Ki l'en cunduistrent tresqu'en la mer:
De Marcilie s'en fuient por la chrestientet,
Que il ne voelent ne tenir ne guarder.
Einz qu'il oüssent .IIII. liues siglet,
Sis aquillit e tempeste e ored:
690
La sunt neiez, jamais nes en verrez;
Se il fust vif, jo l'oüsse amenet.
Del rei paien, sire, par veir creez,
Ja ne verrez cest premer meis passet
Qu'il vos sivrat en France le regnet,
695
Si recevrat la lei que vos tenez,
Jointes ses mains iert vostre comandet;
De vos tendrat Espaigne le regnet.»
Ço dist li reis: «Graciet en seit Deus!
Ben l'avez fait, mult grant prod i avrez.»
700
Par mi cel ost funt mil grailles suner;
Franc desherbergent, funt lur sumers trosser:
Vers dulce France tuit sunt achiminez. aoi.
LV
Carles li magnes ad Espaigne guastede
Les castels pris, (. . .) les citez violees.
705
Ço dit li reis que sa guere out finee.
f.13v
Vers dulce France chevalchet l'emperere.
Li quens Rollant ad l'enseigne fermee
En sur un tertre cuntre le ciel levee.
Franc se herbergent par tute la cuntree.
710
Paien chevalchent par cez greignurs valees,
Halbercs vestuz e tres bien fermeez
Healmes lacez e ceintes lur espees,
Escuz as cols e lances adubees.
En un bruill par sum les puis remestrent,
715
.IIII.C. milie atendent l'ajurnee.
Deus! quel dulur que li Franceis nel sevent! aoi.
LVI
Tresvait le jur, la noit est aserie.
Carles se dort, li empereres riches.
Sunjat qu'il eret al greignurs porz de Sizer,
720
Entre ses poinz teneit sa hanste fraisnine.
Guenes li quens l'ad sur lui saisie;
Par tel air l'at estrussee e brandie,
Qu'envers le cel en volent les escicles.
Carles se dort, qu'il ne s'esveillet mie.
LVII
725
Apres iceste altre avisiun sunjat:
Qu'il en France ert, a sa capele, ad Ais,
El destre braz li morst uns vers si mals.
Devers Ardene vit venir uns leuparz,
Sun cors demenie mult fierement asalt.
730
D'enz de la sale uns veltres avalat,
Que vint a Carles le galops e les salz,
La destre oreille al premer uer trenchat,
Ireement se cumbat al lepart.
f.14r
Dient Franceis, que grant bataille i ad;
735
Il ne sevent, liquels d'els la veintrat.
Carles se dort, mie ne s'esveillat. aoi.
LVIII
Tresvait la noit, e apert la clere albe.
Par mi cel host suvent e menu reguarded:.
Li empereres mult fierement chevalchet.
740
«Seignurs barons,» dist li emperere Carles,
«Veez les porz e les destreiz passages:
Kar me jugez, ki ert en la rereguarde.»
Guenes respunt: «Rollant cist miens fillastre:
N'avez baron de si grant vasselage.»
745
Quant l'ot li reis, fierement le reguardet,
Si li ad dit: «Vos estes vifs diables.
El cors vos est entree mortel rage.
E ki serat devant mei en l'ansguarde?»
Guenes respunt: «Oger de Denemarche:
750
N'avez barun, ki mielz de lui la facet.»
LIX
Li quens Rollant quant il s'oït juger, aoi.
Dunc ad parled a lei de chevaler:
«Sire parastre, mult vos dei aveir cher:
La rereguarde avez sur mei jugiet.
755
N'i perdrat Carles, li reis ki France tient,
Men escientre palefreid ne destrer,
Ne mul ne mule que deiet chevalcher,
Ne n'i perdrat ne runcin ne sumer,
Que as espees ne seit einz eslegiet.»
760
Guenes respunt: «Veir dites, jol sai bien.» aoi.
LX
Quant ot Rollant, qu'il ert en la rereguarde,
f.14v
Ireement parlat a sun parastre:
«Ahi! culvert, malvais hom de put aire,
Qui[d]ás, le guant me caïst en la place,
765
Cume fist a tei le bastun devant Carle?» aoi.
LXI
– «Dreiz emperere,» dist Rollant le barun,
«Dunez mei l'arc, que vos tenez el poign.
Men escientre nel me reproverunt
Que il me chedet, cum fist a Guenelun
770
De sa main destre, quant reçut le bastun.»
Li empereres en tint sun chef enbrunc,
Si duist sa barbe, e detoerst sun gernun;
Ne poet muer que des oilz ne plurt.
LXII
Anpres iço i est Neimes venud:
775
Meillor vassal n'out en la curt de lui;
E dist al rei: «Ben l'avez entendut;
Li quens Rollant, il est mult irascut.
La rereguarde est jugee (...) sur lui:
N'avez baron ki jamais la remut.
780
Dunez li l'arc que vos avez tendut,
Si li truvez ki tres bien li aiut!»
Li reis li dunet, e Rollant l'a reçut.
LXIII
Li empereres apelet ses nies Rollant:
«Bel sire nies, or savez veirement,
785
Demi mun host vos lerrai en present.
Retenez les, ço est vostre salvement.»
Ço dit li quens: «Jo n'en ferai nient;
Deus me cunfunde, se la geste en desment!
f.15r
.XX. milie Francs retendrai ben vaillanz.
790
Passez les porz trestut soürement:
Ja mar crendrez nul hume a mun vivant!»
LXIV
Li quens Rollant est muntet el destrer. aoi.
Cuntre lui vient sis cumpainz Oliver;
Vint i Gerins e li proz quens Gerers,
795
E vint i Otes, si i vint Berengers,
E vint i Astors e Anseïs li veillz;
Vint i Gerart de Rossillon li fiers;
Venuz i est li riches dux Gaifiers.
Dist l'arcevesque: «Jo irai, par mun chef!»
800
– «E jo od vos,» ço dist li quens Gualters;
«Hom sui Rollant, jo ne li dei faillir.»
Entr'e[l]s eslisent .XX. milie chevalers. aoi.
LXV
Li quens Rollant Gualter de l'Húm apelet:
«Pernez mil Francs de France, nostre tere,
805
Si purpernez les deserz e les tertres,
Que l'emperere nis un des soens n'i perdet.» aoi.
Respunt gualter: «Pur vos le dei ben faire.»
Od mil Franceis de France, la lur tere,
Gualter desrenget les destreiz e les tertres,
810
N'en descendrat pur malvaises nuveles,
Enceis qu'en seient. VII.C. espees traites.
Reis Almaris, del regne de Belferne
Une bataille lur livrat le jur pesme.
LXVI
Halt sunt li pui e li val tenebrus,
815
Les roches bises, les destreiz merveillus.
f.15v
Le jur passerent Franceis a grant dulur;
De .XV. lius en ot hom la rimur.
Puis que il venent a la Tere Majur,
Virent Guascuigne, la tere lur seignur.
820
Dunc le remembret des fius e des honurs,
E des pulcele e des gentilz oixurs:
Cel nen i ad ki de pitet ne plurt.
Sur tuz les altres est Carles anguissus:
As porz d'Espaigne ad lesset sun nevold.
825
Pitet l'en prent, ne poet muer n'en plurt. aoi.
LXVII
Li .XII. per sunt remes en Espaigne.
.XX. milie F(r)rancs unt en lur cumpaigne,
N'en unt poür ne de murir dutance.
Li emperere s'en repairet en France;
830
Suz sun mantel en fait la cuntenance.
Dejuste lui li dux Neimes chevalchet
E dit al rei: «De quei avez pesance?»
Carles respunt: «Tort fait kil me demandet!
Si grant doel ai ne puis muer nel pleigne.
835
Par Guenelun serat destruite France,
Enoit m'avint un avisiun d'angele,
Que entre mes puinz me depeçout ma hanste,
Chi ad juget mis nes a (la) rereguarde.
Jo l'ai lesset en une estrange marche!
840
Deus! se jol pert, ja n'en avrai escange!» aoi.
LXVIII
Carles li magnes ne poet muer n'en plurt.
.C. milie Francs pur lui unt grant tendrur,
E de Rollant merveilluse poür.
f.18r
Guen[e]s li fels en ad fait traïsun:
845
Del rei paien en ad oüd granz duns,
Or e argent, palies e ciclatuns,
Muls e chevals e cameilz e leuns.
Marsilies mandet d'Espaigne les baruns,
Cuntes, vezcuntes e dux e almaçurs,
850
Les amirafles e les filz as cunturs:
.IIII.C. milie en ajustet en .III. jurz.
En Sarraguce fait suner ses taburs;
Mahumet levent en la plus halte tur.
N'i ad paien nel prit e nel aort.
855
Puis si chevalchent, par mult grant cuntençun,
La Tere Certeine e les vals e les munz:
De cels de France virent les gunfanuns.
La rereguarde des .XII. cumpaignuns
Ne lesserat bataille ne lur dunt.
LXIX
860
Li nies Marsilie, il est venuz avant,
Sur un mulet od un bastun tuchant.
Dist a sun uncle belement en riant:
«Bel sire reis, jo vos ai servit tant,
Sin ai oüt e peines e ahans,
865
Faites batailles e vencues en champ!
Dunez m'un feu, ço est le colp de Rollant;
Jo l'ocirai a mun espiet trenchant.
Se Mahumet me voelt estre guarant,
De tute Espaigne aquiterai les pans
870
Des porz d'Espaigne entresqu'a Durestant.
Las serat Carles, si recrerrunt si Franc;
f.16v
Ja n'avrez mais guere en tut vostre vivant.»
Li reis Marsilie l'en ad dunet le guant. aoi.
LXX
Li nies Marsilies tient le guant en sun poign,
875
Sun uncle apelet de mult fiere raisun:
«Bel sire reis, fait m'avez un grant dun.
Eslisez mei .XII. de voz baruns,
Sim cumbatrai as .XII. cumpaignuns.»
Tut premerein l'en respunt Falsaron,
880
Icil ert frere al rei Marsiliun:
«Bel sires nies, e jo e vos [í]irum.
Ceste bataille veirement la ferum:
La rereguarde de la grant host Carlun,
Il est juget que nus les ocirum.» aoi.
LXXI
885
Reis Corsalis, il est de l'altre part:
Barbarins est e mult de males arz.
Cil ad parlet a lei de bon vassal:
Pur tut l'or Deu ne volt estre cuard [...]
As vos poignant Malprimis de Brigant:
890
Plus curt a piet que ne fait un cheval.
Devant Marsilie cil s'escriet mult halt:
«Jo cunduirai mun cors en Rencesvals;
Se truis Rollant, ne lerrai que nel mat!»
LXXII
Uns amurafles i ad de Balaguez:
895
Cors ad mult gent e le vis fier e cler;
Puis que il est sur un cheval muntet,
Mult se fait fiers de ses armes porter;
De vasselage est il ben alosez;
Fust chrestiens, asez oüst barnet.
f.17r
Devant Marsilie cil en est escriet:
«En Rencesvals irai mun cors juer!
Se truis Rollant, de mort serat finet,
E Oliver e tuz les .XII. pers.
Franceis murrunt a doel e a viltiet.
905
Carles li magnes velz est e redotez:
Recreanz ert de sa guerre mener,
Si nus remeindrat Espaigne en quitedet.»
Li reis Marsilie mult l'en ad merciet. aoi.
LXXIII
Uns almaçurs i ad de Moriane;
910
N'ad plus felun en la tere d'Espaigne.
Devant Marsilie ad faite sa vantance:
«En Rencesvals guierai ma cumpaigne,
.XX. milie ad escuz e a lances.
Se trois Rollant, de mort li duins fiance.
915
Jamais n'ert jor que Carles ne se pleignet.» aoi.
LXXIV
D'altre part est Turgis de Turteluse:
Cil est uns quens, si est la citet sue.
De chrestiens voelt faire male vode.
Devant Marsilie as altres si s'ajust,
920
Ço dist al rei: «Ne vos esmaiez unches!
Plus valt Mahum que seint Perre de Rume!
Se lui servez, l'onur del camp ert nostre.
En Rencesvals a Rollant irai juindre,
De mort n'avrat guarantisun pur hume.
925
Veez m'espee, ki est e bone e lunge:
A Durendal jo la metrai encuntre;
Asez orrez, laquele irat desure.
f.17v
Franceis murrunt, si a nus s'abandunent;
Carles li velz avrat e deol e hunte:
930
Jamais en tere ne portera curone.»
LXXV
De l'altre part est Escremiz de Valterne:
Sarrazins est, si est sue la tere.
Devant Marsilie s'escriet en la presse,
«En Rencesvals irai l'orgoill desfaire.
935
Se trois Rollant, n'en porterat la teste,
Ne Oliver, ki les altres cadelet;
Li .XII. per tuit sunt jugez a perdre;
Franceis murrunt e France en ert deserte,
De bons vassals avrat Carles suffraite.» aoi.
LXXVI
940
D'altre part est uns paiens, Esturganz;
Estramariz i est, un soens cumpainz:
Cil sunt felun, traïtur suduiant.
Ço dist Marsilie: «Seignurs, venez avant!
En Rencesvals irez as porz passant,
945
Si aiderez a cunduire ma gent.»
E cil respundent: «(Sire,) a vostre comandement!
Nus asaldrum Oliver e Rollant;
Li .XII. per n'avrunt de mort guarant.
Noz espees sunt bones e trenchant;
950
Nus les feruns vermeilles de chald sanc.
Franceis murrunt, Carles en ert dolent.
Tere Majur vos metrum en present.
Venez i, reis, sil verrez veirement:
L'empereor vos metrum en present.»
LXXVII
955
Curant i vint Margariz de Sibilie;
f.18r
Cil tient la tere entre[s]qu'as Cazmarine.
Pur sa beltet dames li sunt amies:
Cele nel veit vers lui ne s'esclargisset;
Quant ele le veit, ne poet muer ne riet;
960
N'i ad paien de tel chevalerie.
Vint en la presse, sur les altres s'escriet
E dist al rei: «Ne vos esmaiez mie!
En Rencesvals irai Rollant ocire,
Ne Oliver n'en porterat la vie;
965
Li .XII. per sunt remes en martirie.
Veez m'espee, ki d'or est enheldie:
Si la tramist li amiralz de Primes.
Jo vos plevis qu'en vermeill sanc ert mise.
Franceis murrunt e France en ert hunie;
970
Carles li velz a la barbe flurie,
Jamais n'ert jurn qu'il n'en ait doel e ire.
Jusqu'a un an avrum France saisie;
Gesir porrum el burc de seint Denise.»
Li reis paiens parfundement l 'enclinet. aoi.
LXXVIII
975
De l'altre part est Chernubles de Munigre;
Jusqu'a la tere si chevoel li balient;
Greignor fais portet par giu, quant il s'enveiset,
Que .IIII. mulez ne funt, quant il sumeient.
Icele tere, ço dit, dun il esteit,
980
Soleill n'i luist, ne blet n'i poet pas creistre,
Pluie n'i chet, rusee n'i adeiset,
Piere n'i ad que tute ne seit neire.
f.18v
Dient alquanz que diables i meignent.
Ce dist Chernubles: «Ma bone espee ai ceinte;
985
En Rencesvals jo la teindrai vermeille.
Se trois Rollant li proz enmi ma veie,
Se ne l'asaill, dunc ne faz jo que creire,
Si cunquerrai Durendal od la meie.
Franceis murrunt e France en ert deserte.»
990
A icez moz li .XII. [per] s'alient;
Itels .C. milie Sarrazins od els meinent,
Ki de bataille s'argüent,e hasteient:
Vunt s'aduber desuz une sapide.
LXXIX
Paien s'adubent des osbercs sarazineis,
995
Tuit li plusur en sunt (saraguzeis) dublez en treis,
Lacent lor elmes mult bons sarraguzeis,
Ceignent espees de l'acer vianeis;
Escuz unt genz, espiez valentineis,
E gunfanuns blancs e blois e vermeilz.
1000
Laissent les mulz e tuz les palefreiz,
Es destrers muntent, si chevalchent estreiz.
Clers fut li jurz e bels fut li soleilz:
N'unt guarnement que tut ne reflambeit.
Sunent mil grailles por ço que plus bel seit:
1005
Granz est la noise, si l'oïrent Franceis.
Dist Oliver: «Sire cumpainz, ce crei,
De Sarrazins purum bataille aveir.»
Respont Rollant: «E! Deus la nus otreit!
Ben devuns ci estre pur nostre rei:
1010
Pur sun seignor deit hom susfrir destreiz
f.19r
E endurer e granz chalz e granz freiz,
Sin deit hom perdre e del quir e del peil.
Or guart chascuns que granz colps (l')[i] empleit,
Que malvaise cançun de nus chantet ne seit!
1015
Paien unt tort e chrestiens unt dreit;
Malvaise essample n'en serat, ja de mei.» aoi.
LXXX
Oliver est desur un pui haut muntez,
Guardet su destre par mi un val herbus,
Si veit venir cele gent paienur,
1020
Sin apelat Rollant, sun cumpaignun:
«Devers Espaigne vei venir tel bruur,
Tanz blancs osbercs, tanz elmes flambius!
Icist ferunt nos Franceis grant irur.
Guenes le sout, li fel, li traïtur,
1025
Ki nus jugat devant l'empereür.»
– «Tais Oliver,» li quens Rollant respunt,
«Mis parrastre est, ne voeill que mot en suns.»
LXXXI
Oliver est desur un pui muntet;
Or veit il ben d'Espaigne le regnet
1030
E Sarrazins, ki tant sunt asemblez.
Luisent cil elme, ki ad or sunt gemmez,
E cil escuz e cil osbercs safrez
E cil espiez, cil gunfanun fermez.
Sul les escheles ne poet il acunter;
1035
Tant en i ad que mesure n'en set.
E lui meïsme en est mult esguaret.
Cum il einz pout, del pui est avalet,
Vint as Franceis, tut lur ad acuntet.
LXXXII
f.19v
Dist Oliver: «Jo ai paiens veüz:
1040
Unc mais nuls hom en tere n'en vit plus.
Cil devant sunt .C. milie ad escuz
Helmes laciez e blancs osbercs vestuz
Dreites cez hanstes, luisent cil espiet brun.
Bataille avrez, unches mais tel ne fut.
1045
Seignurs Franceis, de Deu aiez vertut!
El camp estez, que ne seium vencuz!»
Dient Franceis: «Dehet ait ki s'en fuit!
Ja pur murir ne vus en faldrat uns.» aoi.
LXXXIII
Dist Oliver: «Paien unt grant esforz,
1050
De noz Franceis m'i semblet aveir mult poi!
Cumpaign Rollant, kar sunez vostre corn:
Si l'orrat Carles, si returnerat l'ost.»
Respunt Rollant: «Jo fereie que fols!
En dulce France en perdreie mun los.
1055
Sempres ferrai de Durendal granz colps;
Sanglant en ert li branz entresqu'a l'or.
Felun paien mar i vindrent as porz:
Jo vos plevis, tuz sunt jugez a mort.» aoi.
LXXXIV
– «Cumpainz Rollant l'olifan car sunez:
1060
Si l'orrat Carles, ferat l'ost returner,
Succurrat nos li reis od tut sun barnet.»
Respont Rollant: «Ne placet Damnedeu
Que mi parent pur mei seient blasmet
Ne France dulce ja cheet en viltet!
1065
Einz i ferrai de Durendal asez,
f.20r
Ma bone espee que ai ceint al costet:
Tut en verrez le brant ensanglentet.
Felun paien mar i sunt asemblez:
Jo vos plevis, tuz sunt a mort livrez.» aoi.
LXXXV
1070
– «Cumpainz Rollant, sunez vostre olifan:
Si l'orrat Carles, ki est as porz passant.
Je vos plevis, ja returnerunt Franc.»
– «Ne placet Deu,» ço li respunt Rollant,
«Que ço seit dit de nul hume vivant,
1075
Ne pur paien, que ja seie cornant!
Ja n'en avrunt reproece mi parent!
Quant jo serai en la bataille grant
E jo ferrai e mil colps e .VII. cenz,
De Durendal verrez l'acer sanglent.
1080
Franceis sunt bon, si ferrunt vassalment,
Ja cil d'Espaigne n'avrunt de mort guarant.»
LXXXVI
Dist Oliver: «D'iço ne sai jo blasme?
Jo ai veüt les Sarrazins d'Espaigne,
Cuverz en sunt li val e les muntaignes
1085
E li lariz e trestutes les plaignes.
Granz sunt les oz de cele gent estrange;
Nus i avum mult petite cumpaigne.»
Respunt Rollant: «Mis talenz en est graigne.
Ne placet Damnedeu ne ses angles
1090
Que ja pur mei perdet sa valur France!
Melz voeill murir que huntage me venget.
Pur ben ferir l'emperere plus nos aimet.»
LXXXVII
Rollant est proz e Oliver est sage;
f.20v
Ambedui unt me[r]veillus vasselage.
1095
Puis que il sunt as chevals e as armes,
Ja pur murir n'eschiverunt bataille.
Bon sunt li cunte e lur paroles haltes.
Felun paien par grant irur chevalchent.
Dist Oliver: «Rollant, veez en alques!
1100
Cist nus sunt pres, mais trop nus est loinz Carles.
Vostre olifan, suner vos nel deignastes;
Fust i li reis, n'i oüssum damage.
Guardez amunt devers les porz d'Espaigne:
Veeir poez, dolente est la rereguarde;
1105
Ki ceste fait, jamais n'en ferat altre.»
Respunt Rollant: «Ne dites tel ultrage!
Mal seit del coer ki el piz se cuardet!
Nus remeindrum en estal en la place;
Par nos í ert e li colps e li caples.» aoi.
LXXXVIII
1110
Quant Rollant veit que la bataille serat,
Plus se fait fiers que leon ne leupart.
Franceis escriet, Oliver apelat:
«Sire cumpainz, amis, nel dire ja!
Li emperere, ki Franceis nos laisat,
1115
Itels .XX. milie en mist a une part
Sun escientre n'en i out un cuard.
Pur sun seignur deit hom susfrir granz mals
E endurer e forz freiz e granz chalz,
Sin deit hom perdre del sanc e de la char.
1120
Fier de [ta] lance e jo de Durendal,
Ma bone espee, que li reis me dunat.
f.21r
Se jo i moert, dire poet ki l'avrat
(E purrunt dire) que ele fut a noble vassal.»
LXXXIX
D'altre part est li arcevesques Turpin,
1125
Sun cheval broche e muntet un lariz,
Franceis apelet, un sermun lur ad dit:
«Seignurs baruns, Carles nus laissat ci;
Pur nostre rei devum nus ben murir.
Chrestientet aidez a sustenir!
1130
Bataille avrez, vos en estes tuz fiz,
Kar a voz oilz veez les Sarrazins.
Clamez vos culpes, si preiez Deu mercit!
Asoldrai vos pur voz anmes guarir.
Se vos murez, esterez seinz martirs,
1135
Sieges avrez el greignor pareïs.»
Franceis de[s]cendent, a tere se sunt mis,
E l'arcevesque de Deu les beneïst:
Par penitence les cumandet a ferir.
XC
Franceis se drecent, si se metent sur piez.
1140
Ben sunt asols e quites de lur pecchez,
E l'arcevesque de Deu les ad seignez;
Puis sunt muntez sur lur curanz destrers.
Adobez sunt a lei de chevalers
E de bataille sunt tuit apareillez.
1145
Li quens Rollant apelet Oliver:
«Sire cumpainz, mult ben le saviez
Que Guenelun nos ad tuz espiez;
Pris en ad or e aveir e deners.
Li emperere nos devreit ben venger.
1150
Li reis Marsilie de nos ad fait marchet;
f.21v
Mais as espees l'estuvrat esleger.» aoi.
XCI
As porz d'Espaigne en est passet Rollant
Sur Veillantif, sun bun cheval curant.
Portet ses armes, mult li sunt avenanz,
1155
Mais sun espiet vait li bers palmeiant,
Cuntre le ciel vait la mure turnant,
Laciet en su un gunfanun tut blanc;
Les renges li batent josqu'as mains.
Cors ad mult gent, le vis cler e riant.
1160
Sun cumpaignun apres le vait sivant,
E cil de France le cleiment a guarant.
Vers Sarrazins reguardet fierement
E vers Franceis humeles e dulcement,
Si lur ad dit un mot curteisement:
1165
«Seignurs barons, suef pas alez tenant!
Cist paien vont grant martirie querant.
Encoi avrum un eschec bel e gent:
Nuls reis de France n'out unkes si vaillant.»
A cez paroles vunt les oz ajustant. aoi.
XCII
1170
Dist Oliver: «N'ai cure de parler.
Vostre olifan ne deignastes suner,
Ne de Carlun mie vos n'en avez.
Il n'en set mot, n'i ad culpes li bers.
Cil ki la sunt ne funt mie a blasmer.
1175
Kar chevalchez a quanque vos puez!
Seignors baruns, el camp vos retenez!
Pur deu vos pri, ben seiez purpensez
De colps ferir, de receivre e (de) duner!
f.22r
L'enseigne Carle n'i devum ublier.»
1180
A icest mot sunt Franceis escriet.
Ki dunc oïst «Munjoie» demander,
De vasselage li poüst remembrer.
Puis si chevalchent, Deus! par si grant fiertet!
Brochent ad ait pur le plus tost aler,
1185
Si vunt ferir, que fereient il el?
E Sarrazins nes unt mie dutez;
Francs e paiens, as les vus ajustez.
XCIII
Li nies Marsilie, il ad a num Aelroth;
Tut premereins chevalchet devant l'ost.
1190
De noz Franceis vait disant si mals moz:
«Feluns Franceis, hoi justerez as noz,
Traït vos ad ki a guarder vos out.
Fols est li reis ki vos laissat as porz.
Enquoi perdrat France dulce sun los,
1195
Charles li magnes le destre braz del cors.»
Quant l'ot Rollant, Deus! si grant doel en out!
Sun cheval brochet, laiset curre a esforz,
Vait le ferir li quens quanque il pout.
L'escut li freint e l'osberc li desclot,
1200
Trenchet le piz, si li briset les os,
Tute l'eschine li desevret del dos,
Od sun espiet l'anme li getet fors,
Enpeint le ben, fait li brandir le cors,
Pleine sa hanste del cheval l'abat mort,
1205
En dous meitiez li ad briset le col;
f.22v
Ne leserat, ço dit, que n'i parolt:
«Ultre culvert! Carles n'est mie fol,
Ne traïsun unkes amer ne volt.
Il fist que proz qu'il nus laisad as porz:
1210
Oí n'en perdrat France dulce sun los.
Ferez i, Francs, nostre est li premers colps!
Nos avum dreit, mais cist glutun unt tort.» aoi.
XCIV
Un duc i est, si ad num Falsaron:
Icil er[t] frere al rei Marsiliun;
1215
Il tint la tere Datliun e Balbiun.
Suz cel nen at plus encrisme felun.
Entre les dous oilz mult out large le front,
Grant demi pied mesurer i pout hom.
Asez ad doel quant vit mort sun nevold,
1220
Ist de la prese, si se met en bandun,
E se s'escriet l'enseigne paienor;
Envers Franceis est mult cuntrarius:
«Enquoi perdrat France dulce s'onur!»
Ot le Oliver, sin ad mult grant irur;
1225
Le cheval brochet des oriez esperuns,
Vait le ferir en guise de baron.
L'escut li freint e l'osberc li derumpt,
El cors li met les pans del gunfanun,
Pleine sa hanste l'abat mort des arçuns;
1230
Guardet a tere, veit gesir le glutun,
Si li ad dit par mult fiere raison:
«De voz manaces, culvert, jo n'ai essoign.
Ferez i, Francs, kar tres ben les veincrum!»
f.23r
– «Munjoie!» escriet, ço est l'enseigne Carlun. aoi.
XCV
1235
Uns reis i est, si ad num Corsablix:
Barbarins est, d'un estra[n]ge païs.
Si apelad les altres Sarrazins:
«Ceste bataille ben la puum tenir,
Kar de Franceis i ad asez petit.
1240
Cels ki ci sunt devum aveir mult vil;
Ja pur Charles n'i ert un sul guarit:
Or est le jur qu'els estuvrat murir.»
Ben l'entendit li arc[e]vesques Turpin.
Suz ciel n'at hume que [tant] voeillet haïr;
1245
Sun cheval brochet des esperuns d'or fin,
Par grant vertut si l 'est alet ferir.
L'escut li freinst, l'osberc li descumfist,
Sun grant espiet par mi le cors li mist,
Empeint le ben, que mort le fait brandir,
1250
Pleine sa hanste l'abat mort el chemin.
Guardet arere, veit le glutun gesir,
Ne laisserat que n'i parolt, ço dit:
«Culvert paien, vos i avez mentit!
Carles, mi sire, nus est guarant tuz dis;
1255
Nostre Franceis n'unt talent de fuïr.
Voz cumpaignuns feruns trestuz restifs;
Nuveles vos di: mort vos estoet susfrir.
Ferez, Franceis! Nul de vus ne s'ublit!
Cist premer colp est nostre, Deu mercit!»
1260
– «Munjoie!» escriet por le camp retenir.
XCVI
Engelers fiert Malprimis de Brigal;
f.23v
Sis bons escuz un dener ne li valt:
Tute li freint la bucle de cristal,
L'une meitiet li turnet cuntreval;
1265
L'osberc li rumpt entresque a la charn,
Sun bon espiet enz el cors li enbat.
Li paiens chet cuntreval a un quat;
L'anme de lui en portet Sathanas. aoi.
XCVII
E sis cumpainz Gerers fiert l'amurafle:
1270
L'escut li freint e l'osberc li desmailet,
Sun bon espiet li me(n)t en la curaille,
Empeint le bien, par mi le cors li passet,
Que mort l'abat el camp, pleine sa hanste.
Dist Oliver: «Gente est nostre bataille!»
XCVIII
1275
Sansun li dux, (il) vait ferir l'almaçur:
L'escut li freinst, ki est a flurs e ad ór,
Li bons osbercs ne li est guarant prod,
Trenchet li le coer, le firie e le pulmun,
Que l'abat [mort], qui qu'en peist u qui nun.
1280
Dist l'arcevesque: «Cist colp est de baron!»
XCIX
E Anseïs laiset le cheval curre,
Si vait ferir Turgis de Turteluse;
L'escut li freint desuz l'oree bucle,
De sun osberc li derumpit les dubles,
1285
Del bon espiet el cors li met la mure,
Empeinst le ben, tut le fer li mist ultre,
Pleine sa hanste el camp mort le tresturnet.
Ço dist Rollant: «Cist colp est de produme!»
Laisses C - CXLIX
C
Et Engelers li Guascuinz de Burdele
f.24r
Sun cheval (...) brochet, si li laschet la resne,
Si vait ferir Escremiz de Valterne:
L'escut del col li freint e escantelet,
De sun osberc li rumpit la ventaille,
Sil fiert el piz entre les dous furceles,
1295
Pleine sa hanste l'abat mort de la sele;
Apres li dist: «Turnet estes a perdre!» aoi.
CI
E Gualter fie[r]t un paien, Estorgans,
Sur sun escut en la pene devant,
Que tut li trenchet le vermeill e le blanc;
1300
De sun osberc li ad rumput les pans,
El cors li met sun bon espiet tre[n]chant,
Que mort l'abat de sun cheval curant.
Apres li dist: «Ja n'i avrez guarant!»
CII
E Berenger, il fiert Astramariz:
1305
L'escut li freinst, l'osberc li descumfist,
Sun fort escut par mi le cors li mist,
Que mort l'abat entre mil Sarrazins.
Des .XII. pers li .X. en sunt ocis;
Ne mes que dous n'en i ad remes vifs;
1310
Ço est Chernubles e li quens Margariz.
CIII
Margariz est mult vaillant chevalers,
E bels e forz e isnels e legers.
Le cheval brochet, vait ferir Oliver:
L'escut li freint suz la bucle d'or mer,
1315
Lez le costet li conduist sun espiet.
Deus le guarit, qu'el(l) cors ne l'ad tuchet.
La hanste fruisset, mie n'en a(d)[b]atiet.
f.24rv
Ultre s'en vait, qu'il n'i ad desturber;
Sunet sun gresle pur les soens ralier.
CIV
1320
La bataille est merveilluse e cumune.
Li quens Rollant mie ne s'asoüret,
Fiert de l'espiet tant cume hanste li duret;
A .XV. cols l'ad fraite e [...] perdue,
Trait Durendal, sa bone espee nue,
1325
Sun cheval brochet, si vait ferir Chernuble:
L'elme li freint u li carbuncle luisent,
Trenchet la cors e la cheveleüre,
Si li trenchat les oilz e la faiture,
Le blanc osberc, dunt la maile est menue,
1330
E tut le cors tresqu'en la furcheüre,
Enz en la sele, ki est a or batue;
El cheval est l'espee aresteüe,
Trenchet l'eschine, hunc n'i out quis [joi]nture,
Tut abat mort el pred sur l'erbe drue;
1335
Apres li dist: «Culvert, mar i moüstes!
De Mahumet ja n'i avrez aiude.
Par tel glutun n'ert bataille oi vencue.»
CV
Li quens Rollant par mi le champ chevalchet,
Tient Durendal, ki ben trenchet e taillet,
1340
Des Sarrazins lur fait mult grant damage.
Ki lui veïst l'un geter mort su[r] l'altre,
Li sanc tuz clers gesir par cele place!
Sanglant en ad e l'osberc e [la] brace,
Sun bon cheval le col e les [es]palles.
1345
E Oliver de ferir ne se target,
f.25r
Li .XII. per n'en deivent aveir blasme,
E li Franceis i fierent e si caplent.
Moerent paien e alquanz en i pasment.
Dist l'arcevesque: «Ben ait nostre barnage!»
1350
– «Munjoie!» escriet, ço est l'enseigne Carle. aoi.
CVI
E Oliver chevalchet par l'estor,
Sa hanste est frait, n'en ad que un trunçun,
E vait fer(en)[ir] un paien, Malun:
L'escut li freint, ki est ad or e a flur,
1355
Fors de la teste li met les oilz ansdous,
E la cervele li chet as piez desuz;
Mort le tresturnet od tut .VII.C. des lur.
Pois ad ocis Turgis e Esturguz;
La hanste briset e esclicet josqu'as poinz.
1360
Ço dist Rollant: «Cumpainz, que faites vos?
En tel bataille n'ai cure de bastun;
Fers e acers i deit aveir valor.
U est vostre espee, ki Halteclere ad num?
D'or est li helz e de cristal li punz.»
1365
– «Ne la poi traire,» Oliver li respunt,
«Kar de ferir oi jo si grant bosoign.» aoi.
CVII
Danz Oliver trait ad sa bone espee,
Que ses cumpainz Rollant li ad tant demandee,
E il li ad cum chevaler mustree.
1370
Fiert un paien, Justin de Val Ferree:
Tute la teste li ad par mi sevree,
Trenchet le cors e [la] bronie safree,
La bone sele, ki a ór est gemmee,
f.25v
E al ceval a l'eschine trenchee;
1375
Tut abat mort devant loi en la pree.
Ço dist Rollant: «Vos receif jo, frere!
Por itels colps nos eimet li emperere.»
De tutes parz est «Munjo[i]e» escriee. aoi.
CVIII
Li quens Gerins set el ceval Sorel
1380
E sis cumpainz Gerers en Passecerf,
Laschent lor reisnes, brochent amdui a ait,
E vunt ferir un paien, Timozel,
L'un en l'escut e li altre en l'osberc,
Lur dous espiez enz el cors li unt frait,
1385
Mort le tresturnent tres enmi un guaret,
Ne l'oï dire ne jo mie nel sai
Liquels d'els dous en fut li plus isnels.
Esprieres icil fut filz Burdel,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
1390
E l'arcevesque lor ocist Siglorel,
L'encanteür ki ja fut en enfer:
Par artimal l'i cundoist Jupiter.
Ço dist Turpin: «Icist nos ert forsfait.»
Respunt Rollant: «Vencut est le culvert.
1395
Oliver, frere, itels colps me sunt bel!»
CIX
La bataille est aduree endementres.
Franc e paien merveilus colps i rendent.
Fierent li un, li altre se defendent.
Tant hanste i ad e fraite e sanglente,
1400
Tant gunfanun rumpu e tant enseigne!
Tant bon Franceis i perdent lor juvente!
Ne reverrunt lor meres ne lor femmes,
f.26r
Ne cels de France ki as porz les atendent. aoi.
Karles li magnes en pluret, si se demente.
1405
De ço qui calt? N'en avrunt sucurance.
Malvais servis[e] le jur li rendit Guenes,
Qu'en Sarraguce sa maisnee alat vendre;
Puis en perdit e sa vie e ses membres;
El plait ad Ais en fut juget a prendre,
1410
De ses parenz ensembl'od lui tels trente
Ki de murir nen ourent esperance. aoi.
CX
La bataille est merveilluse e pesant;
Mult ben i fiert Oliver e Rollant,
Li arcevesques plus de mil colps i rent,
1415
Li .XII. per ne s'en targent nient,
E li Franceis i fierent cumunement.
Moerent paien a miller(e)[s] e a cent;
Ki ne s'en fuit de mort n'i ad guarent;
Voillet o nun, tut i laisset sun tens.
1420
Franceis i perdent lor meillors guarnemenz;
Ne reverrunt lor peres ne lor parenz
Ne Carlemagne, ki as porz les atent.
En France en ad mult merveillus turment;
Orez i ad de tuneire e de vent,
1425
Pluies e gresilz desmesureement;
Chiedent i fuildres e menut e suvent,
E terremoete ço i ad veirement.
De seint Michel de(l) P(aris)[eril] josqu'as Seinz
Des Besençun tresqu'as [port] de Guitsand
1430
N'en ad recet dunt del mur ne cravent.
f.26v
Cuntre midi tenebres i ad granz;
N'i ad clartet, se li ciels nen i fent.
Hume nel veit,ki mult ne s espaent.
Dient plusor: «Ço est li definement,
1435
La fin del secle ki nus est en present.»
Il nel sevent, ne dient veir nient:
Ço est li granz dulors por la mort de Rollant.
CXI
Franceis i unt ferut de coer e de vigur;
Paien sunt morz a millers e a fuls:
1440
De cent millers n'en poent guarir dous.
Rollant dist: «Nostre hume sunt mult proz:
Suz ciel n'ad home plus en ait de meillors.»
Il est escrit en la Geste Francor
Que vassals ad li nostre empereür.
1445
Vunt par le camp, si requerent les lor,
Plurent des oilz de doel e de tendrur
Por lor parenz par coer e par amor.
Li reis Marsilie od sa grant ost lor surt. aoi.
CXII
Marsilie vient par mi une valee
1450
Od sa grant ost que il out asemblee.
.XX. escheles ad li reis anumbrees.
Lacent cil'elme as perres d'or gemmees,
E cil escuz e cez bronies sasfrees;
.VII. milie graisles i sunent la menee:
1455
Grant est la noise par tute la contree.
Ço dist Rollant: «Oliver, compaign, frere,
Guenes li fels ad nostre mort juree;
La traïsun ne poet estre celee;
f.27r
Mult grant venjance en prendrat l'emperere.
1460
Bataille avrum e forte [e] aduree,
Unches mais hom tel ne vit ajustee.
Jo i ferrai de Durendal, m'espee,
E vos, compainz, ferrez de Halteclere.
En tanz lius les avum nos portees!
1465
Tantes batailles en avum afinees!
Male chançun n'en deit estre cantee.» aoi.
CXIII
Marsilies veit de sa gent le martirie,
Si fait suner ses cors e ses buisines,
Puis si chevalchet od sa grant ost banie.
1470
Devant chevalchet un Sarrasin, Abisme:
Plus fel de lui n'out en sa cumpagnie.
Te(t)ches ad males e mult granz felonies;
Ne creit en Deu, le filz sainte Marie;
Issi est neirs cume peiz ki est demise;
1475
Plus aimet il traïsun e murdrie
Qu'(e) il ne fesist trestut l'or de Galice;
Unches nuls hom nel vit juer ne rire.
Vasselage ad e mult grant estultie:
Por ço est drud al felun rei Marsilie;
1480
Sun dragun portet a qui sa gent s'alient.
Li arcevesque ne l'amerat ja mie;
Cum il le vit, a ferir le desiret.
Mult quiement le dit a sei meïsme:
«Cel Sarraz[in] me semblet mult herite:
1485
Mielz est mult que jo l'alge ocire.
Unches n'amai cuard ne cuardie.» aoi.
CXIV
f.27v
Li arcevesque cumencet la bataille.
Siet el cheval qu'il tolit a Grossaille,
Ço ert uns reis qu'l ocist en Denemarche.
1490
Li destrers est e curanz e aates,
Piez ad copiez e les gambes ad plates,
Curte la quisse e la crupe bien large,
Lungs les costez e l'eschine ad ben halte,
Blanche la cue e la crignete jalne
1495
Petites les oreilles, la teste tute falve;
Beste nen est nule ki encontre lui alge.
Li arcevesque brochet par tant grant vasselage:
Ne laisserat qu'Abisme nen asaillet;
Vait le ferir en l'escut amiracle:
1500
Pierres i ad, ametistes e topazes,
Esterminals e carbuncles ki ardent;
En Val Metas li dunat uns diables,
Si li tramist li amiralz Galafes.
Turpins i fiert, ki nient ne l'esparignet,
1505
Enpres sun colp ne quid que un dener vaillet,
Le cors li trenchet tres l'un costet qu'a l'altre,
Que mort l'abat en une voide place.
Dient Franceis: «Ci ad grant vasselage!
En l'arcevesque est ben la croce salve.»
CXV
1510
Franceis veient que paiens i ad tant,
De tutes parz en sunt cuvert li camp;
Suvent regretent Oliver e Rollant
Les .XII. pers, qu'il lor seient guarant.
E l'arcevesque lur dist de sun semblant:
f.28r
«Seignors barons, n'en alez mespensant!
Pur Deu vos pri que ne seiez fuiant,
Que nuls prozdom malvaisement n'en chant.
Asez est mielz que moerium cumbatant.
Pramis nus est, fin prendrum a itant,
1520
Ultre cest jurn ne serum plus vivant;
Mais d'une chose vos soi jo ben guarant:
Seint pareïs vos est abandunant;
As Innocenz vos en serez seant.»
A icest mot si s'esbaldissent Franc,
1525
Cel nen i ad «Munjoie!» ne demant. aoi.
CXVI
Un Sarrazin i out de Sarraguce,
De la citet l'une meitet est sue:
Ço est Climborins, ki pas ne fut produme.
Fiance prist de Guenelun le cunte,
1530
Par amistiet l'en baisat en la buche,
Si l'en dunat s'espee e s'escarbuncle.
Tere Major ço dit, metrat a hunte,
A l'emperere si toldrat la curone.
Siet el ceval qu'il cleimet Barbamusche,
1535
Plus est isnels que esprever ne arunde.
Brochet le bien, le frein li abandunet,
Si vait ferir Engeler de Guascoigne.
Nel poet guarir sun escut ne sa bronie:
De sun espiet el cors li met la mure,
1540
Empeint le ben, tut le fer li mist ultre,
Pleine sa hanste el camp mort le tresturnet.
Apres escriet: «Cist sunt bon a (o)[c]unfundre!
f.28v
Ferez, paien, pur la presse derumpre!»
Dient Franceis: «Deus quel doel de prodome!» aoi.
CXVII
1545
Li quens Rollant en apelet Oliver:
«Sire cumpainz, ja est morz Engeler;
Nus n'avium plus vaillant chevaler.»
Respont li quens: «Deus le me doinst venger!»
Sun cheval brochet des esperuns d'or mier,
1550
Tient Halteclere, sanglent en est l'acer,
Par grant vertut vait ferir le paien.
Brandist sun colp e li Sarrazins chiet;
L'anme de lui en portent aversers.
Puis ad ocis le duc Alphaïen;
1555
Escababi i ad le chef trenchet;
.VII. Arrabiz i ad deschevalcet:
Cil ne sunt proz ja mais pur guerreier.
Ço dist Rollant: «Mis cumpainz est irez!
Encuntre mei fait asez a preiser.
1560
Pur itels colps nos ad Charles plus cher.»
A voiz escriet: «Ferez i, chevaler!» aoi.
CXVIII
D'altre part est un paien, Valdabrun:
Celoi levat le rei Marsiliun,
Sire est par mer de .IIII.C. drodmunz;
1565
N'i ad eschipre quis cleim se par loi nun.
Jerusalem prist ja par traïsun,
Si violat le temple Salomon,
Le patriarche ocist devant les funz.
Cil ot fiance del cunte Guenelon:
1570
Il li dunat s'espee e mil manguns.
f.29r
Siet el cheval qu'il cleimet Gramimund,
Plus est isnels que nen est uns falcuns.
Brochet le bien des aguz esperuns,
Si vait ferir li riche duc Sansun,
1575
L'escut li freint e l'osberc li derumpt,
El cors li met les pans del gunfanun,
Pleine sa hanste l'abat mort des arçuns:
«Ferez paien, car tres ben les veintrum!»
Dient Franceis: «Deus quel doel de baron.!» aoi.
CXIX
1580
Li quens Rollant, quant il veit Sansun mort,
Poez saveir que mult grant doel en out.
Sun ceval brochet, si li curt ad esforz;
Tient Durendal, qui plus valt que fin ór.
Vait le ferir li bers, quanque il pout,
1585
Desur sun elme, ki gemmet fut ad or:
Trenchet la teste e la bronie e le cors,
La bone sele, ki est gemmet ad or,
E al cheval parfundement le dos;
Ambure ocit, ki quel blasme ne quil lot.
1590
Dient paien(t) [...]: «Cist colp nus est mult fort!»
Respont Rollant: «Ne pois amer les voz;
Devers vos est li orguilz e li torz.» aoi.
CXX
D'Affrike i ad un Affrican venut,
Ço est Malquiant, le filz al rei Malcud.
1595
Si guarnement sunt tut a or batud;
Cuntre le ciel sur tuz les altres luist.
Siet el ceval qu'il cleimet Salt Perdut:
Beste nen est ki poisset curre a lui.
f.29v
Il vait ferir Anseïs en l'escut:
1600
Tut li trenchat le vermeill e l'azur;
De sun osberc li ad les pans rumput,
El cors li met e le fer e le fust;
Morz est li quens, de sun tens n'i ad plus.
Dient Franceis: «Barun, tant mare fus!»
CXXI
1605
Par le camp vait Turpin li arcevesque;
Tel coronet ne chantat unches messe
Ki de sun cors feïst [...] tantes proecces.
Dist al paien: «Deus tut mal te tramette!
Tel ad ocis dunt al coer me regrette.»
1610
Sun bon ceval i ad fait esdemetre,
Si l'ad ferut sur l'escut de Tulette,
Que mort l'abat desur le herbe verte.
CXXII
De l'altre part est un paien, Grandonies,
Filz Capuel, le rei de Capadoce(neez).
1615
Siet el cheval que il cleimet Marmorie,
Plus est isnels que n'est oisel ki volet;
Laschet la resne, des esperuns le brochet,
Si vait ferir Gerin par sa grant force.
L'escut vermeill li freint, de col li portet;
1620
Aprof li ad sa bronie desclose,
El cors li met tute l'enseingne bloie,
Que mort l'abat en une halte roche.
Sun cumpaignun Gerers ocit uncore
E Berenger e Guiun de Seint Antonie;
1625
Puis vait ferir un riche duc Austorje,
Ki tint Valeri e envers sur le Rosne.
f.30r
Il l'abat mort; paien en unt grant joie.
Dient Franceis: «Mult decheent li nostre!»
CXXIII
[L]i quens Rollant tint s'espee sanglente.
1630
Ben ad oït que Franceis se dementent;
Si grant doel ad que par mi quiet fendre;
Dist al paien: «Deus tut mal te consente!
Tel as ocis que mult cher te quid vendre!»
Sun ceval brochet, ki oït del cuntence.
1635
Ki quel cumpert, venuz en sunt ensemble.
CXXIV
Grandonie fut e prozdom e vaillant
E vertuus e vassal cumbatant.
Enmi sa veie ad encuntret Rollant.
Enceis nel vit, sil recunut veirement
1640
Al fier visage e al cors qu'il out gent
E al reguart e al contenement:
Ne poet muer qu'il ne s'en espoent,
Fuïr s'en voel, mais ne li valt nient:
Li quens le fiert tant vertuusement
1645
Tresqu'al nasel tut le elme li fent,
Trenchet le nes e la buche e les denz,
Trestut le cors e l'osberc jazerenc
De l'oree sele (se)[les] dous alves d'argent
E al ceval le dos parfundement;
1650
Ambure ocist seinz nul recoevrement,
E cil d'Espaigne s'en cleiment tuit dolent.
Dient Franceis: «Ben fiert nostre guarent!»
CXXV
La bataille est e merveillose e grant.
Franceis i ferent des espiez brunisant.
f.30v
La veïssez si grant dulor de gent,
Tant hume mort e nasfret e sanglent!
L'un gist sur l'altre e envers e adenz.
Li Sarrazin nel poent susfrir tant:
Voelent u nun, si guerpissent le camp.
1660
Par vive force les encacerent Franc. aoi.
CXXVI
La (la) b[at]aille est m[erv]eilluse e hastive.
Franceis i ferent par vigur e par ire,
Tren[chen]t cez poinz, cez costez, cez eschines,
Cez vestemenz entresque as chars vives.
1665
Sur l'erbe verte li cler sancs s'en afilet.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
«Tere Major, Mahummet te maldie!
Sur tute gent est la tue hardie.»
Cel nen i ad ki ne criet: «Marsilie!
1670
Cevalche, rei! Bosuign avum d'aïe!»
CXXVII
Li quens Rollant apelet Oliver:
«Sire cumpaign, sel volez otrier,
Li arcevesque est mult bon chevaler,
Nen ad meillor en tere ne suz cel;
1675
Ben set ferir e de lance e d'espiet.»
Respunt li quens: «Kar li aluns aider!»
A icest mot l'unt Francs recumencet.
Dur sunt li colps e li caples est grefs;
Mu(n)lt grant dulor i ad de chrestiens.
1680
Ki puis veïst Rollant e Oliver
De lur espees e ferir e capler!
Li arcevesque i fiert de sun espiet,
Cels qu'il unt mort, ben les poet hom preiser;
f.31r
Il est escrit es cartres e es brefs,
1685
Ço dit la Geste, plus de .IIII. milliers.
As quatre [es]turs lor est avenut ben;
Li quint apres lor est pesant e gref.
Tuz sunt ocis cist Franceis chevalers,
Ne mes seisante, que Deus i ad esparniez:
1690
Einz que il moergent, se vendrunt mult cher.
CXXVIII
Li quens Rollant des soens i veit grant perte; aoi.
Sun cumpaignun Oliver en apelet:
«Bel sire, chers cumpainz, pur Deu, que vos enhaitet?
Tanz bons vassals veez gesir par tere!
1695
Pleindre poüms France dulce, la bele:
De tels barons cum or remeint deserte!
E! reis, amis, que vos ici nen estes?
Oliver, frere, cumment le purrum nus faire?
Cum faitement li manderum nuveles?»
1700
Dist Oliver: «Jo nel sai cument quere.
Mielz voeill murir que hunte nus seit retraite.» aoi.
CXXIX
Ço dist Rollant: «Cornerai l'olifant,
Si l'orrat Carles, ki est as porz passant.
Jo vos plevis ja returnerunt Franc.»
1705
Dist Oliver: «Vergoigne sereit grant
E reprover a trestuz voz parenz;
Iceste hunte dureit al lur vivant!
Quant jel vos dis, n'en feïstes nient;
Mais nel ferez par le men loement.
1710
Se vos cornez, n'ert mie hardement.
Ja avez vos ambsdous les braz sanglanz!»
f.31v
Respont li quens: «Colps i ai fait mult genz!» aoi.
CXXX
Ço dit Rollant: «Forz est nostre bataille;
Jo cornerai, si l'orrat li reis Karles.»
1715
Dist Oliver: «Ne sereit vasselage!
Quant jel vos dis, cumpainz, vos ne deignastes.
Si fust li reis, n'i oüsum damage.
Cil ki la sunt n'en deivent aveir blasme.»
Dist Oliver: «Par ceste meie barbe,
1720
Se puis veeir ma gente sorur Alde,
Ne jerrei(e)z ja mais entre sa brace!» aoi.
CXXXI
Ço dist Rollant: «Por quei me portez ire?»
(E cil) E il respont: «Cumpainz, vos le feïstes,
Kar vasselage par sens nen est folie;
1725
Mielz valt mesure que ne fait estultie.
Franceis sunt morz par vostre legerie.
Jamais Karlon de nus n'avrat servise.
Sem(e) creïsez, venuz i fust mi sire;
Ceste bataille oüsum faite u prise;
1730
U pris ú mort i fust li reis Marsilie.
Vostre proecce, Rollant, mar la ve[ï]mes!
Karles li Magnes de nos n'avrat aïe.
N'ert mais tel home des qu'a Deu juïse.
Vos i murrez e France en ert (...) huníe.
1735
Oi nus defalt la leial cumpaignie:
Einz le vesp(e)re mult ert gref la departie.» aoi.
CXXXII
Li arceves[ques] les ót cuntrarier,
Le cheval brochet des esperuns d'or mer,
Vint tresqu'a els, sis prist a castier:
f.32r
«Sire Rollant, e vos, sire Oliver,
Pur Deu vos pri, ne vos cuntraliez!
Ja li corners ne nos avreit mester,
Mais nepurquant si est il asez melz:
Venget li reis, si nus purrat venger;
1745
Ja cil d'Espaigne ne s'en deivent turner liez.
Nostre Franceis i descendrunt a pied,
Truverunt nos e morz e detrenchez,
Leverunt nos en bieres sur sumers,
Si nus plurrunt de doel e de pitet,
1750
Enfuerunt [nos] en aitres de musters;
N'en mangerunt ne lu ne porc ne chen.»
Respunt Rollant: «Sire, mult dites bien.» aoi.
CXXXIII
Rollant ad mis l'olifan a sa buche,
Empeint le ben, par grant vertut le sunet.
1755
Halt sunt li pui e la voiz est mult lunge,
Granz .XXX. liwes l'oïrent il respundre.
Karles l'oït e ses cumpaignes tutes.
Ço dit li reis: «Bataille funt nostre hume!»
E Guenelun li respundit encuntre:
1760
«S'altre le desist, ja semblast grant mençunge!» aoi.
CXXXIV
Li quens Rollant, par peine e par ahans,
Par grant dulor sunet sun olifan.
Par mi la buche en salt fors li cler sancs.
De sun cervel le temple en est rumpant.
1765
Del corn qu'il tient l'oiïe en est mult grant:
Karles l'entent, ki est as porz passant.
Naimes li duc l'oïd, si l'escultent li Franc.
f.32v
Ce dist li reis: «Jo oi le corn Rollant!
Unc nel sunast se ne fust (cu)cumbatant.»
1770
Guenes respunt: «De bataille est il nient!
Ja estes veilz e fluriz e blancs;
Par tels paroles vus resemblez enfant.
Asez savez le grant orgoill Rollant;
Ço est merveille que Deus le soefret tant.
1775
Ja prist il Noples seinz le vostre comant;
Fors s'en eissirent li Sarrazins dedenz,
Sis cumbatirent al bon vassal Rollant;
Puis od les ewes (...) lavat les prez del sanc,
Pur cel le fist ne fust a[pa]rissant.
1780
Pur un sul levre vat tute jur cornant,
Devant ses pers vait il ore gabant.
Suz cel n'ad gent ki [l']osast (re)querre en champ.
Car chevalcez! Pur qu'alez arestant?
Tere Major mult est loinz ça devant.» aoi.
CXXXV
1785
Li quens Rollant ad la buche sanglente.
De sun cervel rumput en est li temples.
L'olifan sunet a dulor e a peine.
Karles l'oït e ses Franceis l'entendent,
Ço dist li reis: «cCel corn ad lunge aleine!»
1790
Respont dux Neimes: «Baron i fait la p[e]ine!
Bataille i ad, par le men escientre.
Cil l'at traït ki vos en roevet feindre.
Adubez vos, si criez vostre enseigne,
Si sucurez vostre maisnee gente:
1795
Asez oez que Rollant se dementet!»
CXXXVI
f.33r
Li empereres ad fait suner ses corns.
Franceis descendent, si adubent lor cors
D'osbercs e de helmes e d'espees a or.
Escuz unt genz e espiez granz e forz,
1800
E gunfanuns blancs e vermeilz e blois.
Es destrers muntent tuit li barun de l'ost,
Brochent ad ait tant cum durent li port.
N'i ad celoi (a celoi) a l'altre ne parolt:
«Se veïssum Rollant einz qu'il fust mortz,
1805
Ensembl'od lui i durriums granz colps.»
De ço qui calt? car demuret i unt trop.
CXXXVII
Esclargiz est li vespres e li jurz.
Cuntre le soleil reluisent cil adub,
Osbercs e helmes i getent grant flambur,
1810
E cil escuz, ki ben sunt peinz a flurs,
E cil espiez(z), cil oret gunfanun.
Li empereres cevalchet par irur
E li Franceis dolenz et cur[uçus](ius);
N'i ad celoi ki durement ne plurt,
1815
E de Rollant sunt en grant poür.
Li reis fait prendre le cunte Guenelun,
Sil cumandat as cous de sa maisun.
Tut li plus maistre en apelet, Besgun.
«Ben le me guarde, si cume tel felon!
1820
De ma maisnee ad faite traïsun.»
Cil le receit, si met .C. cumpaignons
De la quisine, des mielz e des pejurs.
Icil li peilent la barbe e les gernuns;
(Morz est Turpin le guerreier Charlun)
f.33v
Cascun le fiert .IIII. colps de sun puign;
1825
Ben le batirent a fuz e a bastuns;
E si li metent el col un caeignun,
Si l'encaeinent altresi cum un urs;
Sur un sumer l'unt mis a deshonor.
Tant le guardent quel rendent a Charlun.
CXXXVIII
1830
Halt sunt li pui e tenebrus e grant, aoi.
Li val parfunt e les ewes curant.
Sunent cil graisle e derere e devant,
E tuit rachatent encuntre l'olifant.
Li empereres chevalchet ireement,
1835
E li Franceis cur(i[...]us)uçus e dolent;
N'i ad celoi n'i plurt e se dement,
E p[ri]ent Deu qu'il guarisset Rollant
Josque il vengent el camp cumunement:
Ensembl'od lui i ferrunt veirement.
1840
De ço qui calt? car ne lur valt nient.
Demurent trop, n'i poedent estre a tens. aoi.
CXXXIX
Par grant irur chevalchet li reis Charles;
Desur (...) sa brunie li gist sa blanche barbe.
Puignent ad ait tuit li barun de France;
1845
N'i ad icel ne demeint irance
Que il ne sunt a Rollant le cataigne,
Ki se cumbat as Sarrazins d'Espaigne;
Si est blecet, ne quit que anme i remaigne.
Deus! quels seisante humes i ad en sa cumpaigne!
1850
Unches meillurs n'en out reis ne c[at]aignes. aoi.
CXL
Rollant reguardet es munz e es lariz;
f.34r
De cels de France i veit tanz morz gesir!
E il les pluret cum chevaler gentill:
«Seignors barons, de vos ait Deus mercit!
1855
Tutes voz anmes otreit il pareïs!
En seintes flurs il les facet gesir!
Meillors vassals de vos unkes ne vi.
Si lungement tuz tens m'avez servit,
A oes Carlon si granz païs cunquis!
1860
Li empereres tant mare vos nurrit!
Tere de France mult estes dulz païs
Oi desertet a tant rubostl exill.
Barons Franceis, pur mei vos vei murir:
Jo ne vos pois tenser ne guarantir.
1865
Aït vos Deus, ki unkes ne mentit!
Oliver, frere, vos ne dei jo faillir.
De doel murra, se altre ne m'i ocit.
Sire cumpainz, alum i referir!»
CXLI
Li quens Rollant el champ est repairet:
1870
Tient Durendal, cume vassal i fiert.
Faldrun de Pui i ad par mi trenchet,
E .XXIIII. de tuz les melz preisez:
Jamais n'iert home plus se voeillet venger.
Si cum li cerfs s'en vait devant les chiens,
1875
Devant Rollant si s'en fuient paiens.
Dist l'arcevesque: «Asez le faites ben!
Itel valor deit aveir chevaler
Ki armes portet e en bon cheval set;
En bataille deit estre forz e fiers,
f.34v
U altrement ne valt .IIII. deners;
Einz deit monie estre en un de cez mustiers,
Si prierat tuz jurz por noz peccez.»
Respunt Rollant: «Ferez, nes esparignez!»
A icest mot l'unt Francs recumencet.
1885
Mult grant damage i out de chrestiens.
CXLII
Home ki ço set, que ja n'avrat prisun
En tel bataill[e] fait grant defension:
Pur ço sunt Francs si fiers cume leuns.
As vus Marsilie en guise de barunt.
1890
Siet el cheval qu'il apelet Gaignun,
Brochet le ben, si vait ferir Bevon,
Icil ert sire de Belne e de Digun,
L'escut li freint e l'osberc li derumpt,
Que mort l'abat seinz altre descunfisun;
1895
Puis ad ocis Yvoeries e Ivon
Ensembl'od els Gerard de Russillun.
Li quens Rollant ne li est guaires loign;
Dist al paien: «Damnesdeus mal te duinst!
A si grant tort m'ociz mes cumpaignuns!
1900
Colp en avras einz que nos departum,
E de m'espee enquoi savras le nom.»
Vait le ferir en guise de baron:
Trenchet li ad li quens le destre poign.
Puis prent la teste de Jurfaleu le Blund,
1905
Icil ert filz al rei Marsiliun.
Paien escrient: «Aíe nos, Mahum!
Li nostre deu, vengez nos de Carlun.
f.35r
En ceste tere nus ad mis tels feluns!
Ja pur murir le camp ne guerpirunt.»
1910
Dist l'un a l'altre: «E! car nos en fuiums!»
A icest mot tels .C. milie s'en vunt:
Ki ques rapelt, ja n'en returnerunt. aoi.
CXLIII
De ço qui calt? Se fuit s'en est Marsilies,
Remes i est sis uncles, Marganices,
1915
Ki tint Kartagene, Alfrere, Garmalie
E Ethiope, une tere maldite.
La neire gent en ad en sa baillie;
Granz unt les nes e lees les oreilles,
E sunt ensemble plus de cinquante milie.
1920
Icil chevalchent fierement e a íre,
Puis escrient l'enseigne paenime.
Ço dist Rollant: «Ci recevrums ma[r]tyrie,
E or sai ben n'avons guaires a vivre;
Mais tut seit fel cher ne se vende primes!
1925
Ferez, seignurs, des espees furbies,
Si calengez e voz (e) mors e voz vies!
Que dulce France par nus ne seit hunie!
Quant en cest camp vendrat Carles, mi sire,
De Sarrazins verrat tel discipline,
1930
Cuntre un des noz en truverat morz .XV.,
Ne lesserat que nos ne beneïsse.» aoi.
CXLIV
Quan Rollant veit la contredite gent
Ki plus sunt neirs que nen est arrement,
Ne n'unt de blanc ne mais que sul les denz,
1935
Ço dist li quens: «Or sai jo veirement
f.35v
Que hoi murrum par le mien escient.
Ferez Franceis, car jol vos recumenz!»
Dist Oliver: «Dehet ait li plus lenz!»
A icest mot Franceis se fierent enz.
CXLV
1940
Quant paien virent que Franceis i out poi,
Entr'els en unt e orgoil e cunfort.
Dist l'un a l'altre: «L'empereor ad tort.»
Li Marganices sist sur un ceval sor,
Brochet le ben des esperuns a or,
1945
Fiert Oliver derere en mi le dos.
Le blanc osberc li ad descust el cors,
Par mi le piz sun espiet li mist fors,
E dit apres: «Un col avez pris fort!
Carles li magnes mar vos laissat as porz!
1950
Tort nos ad fait: nen est dreiz qu'il s'en lot,
Kar de vos sul ai ben venget les noz.»
CXLVI
Oliver sent que a mort est ferut.
Tient Halteclere, dunt li acer fut bruns,
Fiert Marganices sur l'elme a or, agut,
1955
E flurs (e) e cristaus en acraventet jus;
Trenchet la teste d'ici qu'as denz menuz,
Brandist sun colp, si l'ad mort abatut,
E dist apres: «Paien mal aies tu!
Iço ne di que Karles n'i ait perdut;
1960
Ne a muiler ne a dame qu'aies veüd,
N'en vanteras el regne dunt tu fus
Vaillant a un dener que m'i aies tolut,
Ne fait damage ne de mei ne d'altrui!»
f.36r
Apres escriet Rollant qu'il li aiut. aoi.
CXLVII
1965
Oliver sent qu'il est a mort nasfret.
De lui venger ja mais ne li ert lez.
En la grant presse or i fiert cume ber,
Trenchet cez hanstes e cez escuz buclers,
E piez e poinz e seles e costez.
1970
Ki lui veïst Sarrazins desmembrer,
Un mort sur altre geter,
De bon vassal li poüst remembrer.
L'enseigne Carle n'i volt mie ublier:
«Munjoie!» escriet e haltement e cler.
1975
Rollant apelet, sun ami e sun per:
«Sire cumpaign, a mei car vus justez!
A grant dulor ermes hoi desevrez.» aoi.
CXLVIII
Rollant reguardet Oliver al visage:
Teint fut e pers, desculuret e pale.
1980
Li sancs tuz clers par mi le cors li raiet:
Encuntre tere en cheent les esclaces.
«Deus!» dist li quens, «or ne sai jo que face.
Sire cumpainz, mar fut vostre barnage!
Jamais n'iert hume ki tun cors cuntrevaillet.
1985
E! France dulce, cun hoi remendras guaste
De bons vassals, cunfundue e chaiete!
Li emperere en avrat grant damage.»
A icest mot sur sun cheval se pasmet. aoi.
CXLIX
As vus Rollant sur sun cheval pasmet,
1990
E Oliver ki est a mort nasfret:
Tant ad seinet (ki) li oil li sunt trublet;
f.36v
Ne loinz ne pres (es) ne poet vedeir si cler
Que rec[on]oistre poisset nuls hom mortel.
Sun cumpaignun, cum il l'at encontret,
1995
Sil fiert amunt sur l'elme a or gemet:
Tut li detrenchet d'ici qu'al nasel;
Mais en la teste ne l'ad mie adeset.
A icel colp l'ad Rollant reguardet,
Si li demandet dulcement e suef:
2000
«Sire cumpain, faites le vos de gred?
Ja est ço Rollant, ki tant vos soelt amer!
Par nule guise ne m'aviez desfiet!»
Dist Oliver: «Or vos oi jo parler;
Jo ne vos vei, veied vus Damnedeu!
2005
Ferut vos ai, car le me pardunez!»
Rollant respunt: «Jo n'ai nient de mal.
Jol vos parduins ici e devant Deu.»
A icel mot l'un a l'altre ad clinet.
Par tel [...] amur as les vus desevred!
Laisses CL - CXCIX
CL
2010
Oliver sent que la mort mult l'angoisset.
Ansdous les oilz en la teste li turnent,
L'oíe pert e la veüe tute;
Descent a piet, a l[a] tere se culchet,
Durement en halt si recleimet sa culpe,
2015
Cuntre le ciel ambesdous ses mains juintes,
Si priet Deu que pareïs li dunget
E beneïst Karlun e France dulce,
Sun cumpaignun Rollant sur tuz humes.
Falt li le coer, le helme li embrunchet,
f.37r
Trestut le cors a la tere li justet.
Morz est li quens, que plus ne se demuret.
Rollant li ber le pluret, sil duluset;
Jamais en tere n'orrez plus dolent hume!
CLI
Or veit Rollant que mort est sun ami,
2025
Gesir adenz, a la tere sun vis,
Mult dulcement a regreter le prist:
«Sire cumpaign, tant mar fustes hardiz!
Ensemble avum estet e anz e dis;
Nem fesis mal ne jo nel te forsfis.
2030
Quant tu es mor[t], dulur est que jo vif!»
A icest mot se pasmet li marchis
Sur sun ceval que cleimet Veillantif.
Afermet est a ses estreus d'or fin:
Quel part qu'il alt, ne poet mie chaïr.
CLII
2035
Ainz que Rollant se seit aperceüt,
De pasmeisuns guariz ne revenuz,
Mult grant damage li est apareüt:
Morz sunt Franceis, tuz les i ad perdut,
Senz l'arcevesque e senz Gualter del Hum.
2040
Repairez est des muntaignes jus;
A cels d'Espaigne mult s'i est cumbatuz;
Mort sunt si hume, sis unt paiens (...) vencut;
Voeillet (illi) o nun, desuz cez vals s'en fuit,
Si reclaimet Rollant, qu'il li aiut:
2045
«E! gentilz quens, vaillanz hom, ú ies tu?
Unkes nen oi poür, la u tu fus.
Ço est Gualter, ki cunquist Maelgut,
f.37v
Li nies Droün, al vieill e al canut!
Pur vasselage suleie estre tun drut.
2050
Ma hanste est fraite e percet mun escut,
E mis osbercs desmailet e rumput;
Par mi le cors hot une lances [...] ferut.
Sempres murrai, mais cher me sui vendut!»
A icel mot l'at Rollant entendut;
2055
Le cheval brochet, si vient poignant vers lui. aoi.
CLIII
Rollant ad doel, si fut maltalentifs;
En la grant presse cumencet a ferir.
De cels d'Espaigne en ad get[et] mort .XX.,
E Gualter .VI. e l'arcevesque .V.
2060
Dient paien: «(Felun) Feluns humes ad ci!
Guardez, seignurs, qu'il n'en algent vif!
Tut par seit fel ki nes vait envaïr,
E recreant ki les lerrat guar[ir]!»
Dunc recumencent e le hu e le cri;
2065
De tutes parz le revunt envaïr. aoi.
CLIV
Li quens Rollant fut noble guerrer,
Gualter de Hums est bien bon chevaler,
Li arcevesque prozdom e essaiet:
Li uns ne volt l'altre nient laisser.
2070
En la grant presse i fierent as paiens.
Mil Sarrazins i descendent a piet,
E a cheval sunt .XL. millers.
Men escientre nes osent aproismer.
Il lor lancent e lances e espiez,
2075
E wigres e darz e museras e agiez e gieser.
f.38r
As premers colps i unt ocis Gualter,
Turpins de Reins tut sun escut percet,
Quasset sun elme, si l'unt nasfret el chef,
E sun osberc rumput e desmailet;
2080
Par mi le cors nasfret de .IIII. espiez;
Dedesuz lui ocient sun destrer.
Or est grant doel quant l'arcevesque chiet. aoi.
CLV
Turpins de Reins, quant se sent abatut,
De .IIII. espiez par mi le cors ferut,
2085
Isnelement li ber resailit sus;
Rollant reguardet, puis si li est curut,
E dist un mot: «Ne sui mie vencut!
Ja bon vassal nen ert vif recreüt.»
Il trait Almace, s'espee de acer brun,
2090
En la grant presse mil colps i fiert e plus,
Puis le dist Carles qu'il n'en esparignat nul;
Tels .IIII. cenz i troevet entur lui:
Alquanz nafrez, alquanz par mi ferut,
Si out d'icels ki les chefs unt perdut.
2095
Ço dit la Geste e cil ki el camp fut:
Li ber Gilie, por qui Deus fait vertuz,
E fist la chartre el muster de Loüm.
Ki tant ne set ne l'ad prod entendut.
CLVI
Li quens Rollant genteme[n]t se cumbat,
2100
Mais le cors ad tressuet e mult chalt;
En la teste ad e dulor e grant mal:
Rumput est li temples, por ço que il cornat.
f.38v
Mais saveir volt se Charles i vendrat:
Trait l'olifan, fieblement le sunat.
2105
Li emperere s'estut, si l'escultat:
«Seignurs,» dist il, «mult malement nos vait!
Rollant mis nies hoi cest jur nus defalt.
Jo oi al corner que guaires ne vivrat.
Ki estre i voelt isnelement chevalzt!
2110
Sunez voz graisles tant que en cest ost ad!»
Seisante milie en i cornent si halt,
Sunent li munt e respondent li val:
Paien l'entendent, nel tindrent mie en gab;
Dit l'un a l'altre: «Karlun avrum nus ja!»
CLVII
2115
Dient paien: «L'emperere repairet! aoi.
De cels de France oe(n)z suner les graisles!
Se Carles vient, de nus i avrat perte.
Se R[ollant] vit, nostre guere renovelet,
Perdud avuns Espaigne, nostre tere.»
2120
Tels .IIII. cenz s'en asemble[nt] a helmes,
E des meillors ki el camp quient estre:
A Rollant rendent un estur fort e pesme.
Or ad li quens endreit sei asez que faire. aoi.
CLVIII
Li quens Rollant, quant il les veit venir,
2125
Tant se fait fort e fiers e maneviz!
Ne lur lerat tant cum il serat vif.
Siet el cheval qu'om cleimet Veillantif,
Brochet le bien des esperuns d'or fin,
En la grant presse les vait tuz envaïr,
2130
Ensem[b]l'od lui arcevesques Turpin.
f.39r
Dist l'un a l'altre: «Ça vus traiez ami!
De cels de France les corns avuns oït:
Carles repairet, li reis poesteïfs!»
CLIX
Li quens Rollant unkes n'amat cuard
2135
Ne orguillos, ne malvais (...) hume de male part,
Ne chevaler, se il ne fust bon vassal.
Li arcevesques Turpin en apelat:
«Sire, a pied estes e jo sui a ceval;
Pur vostre amur ici prendrai estal;
2140
Ensemble avruns e le ben e le mal;
Ne vos lerrai pur nul hume de car.
Encui rendruns a paiens cest asalt.
Les colps des mielz, cels sunt de Durendal.»
Dist l'arcevesque: «Fel seit ki ben n'i ferrat.
2145
Carles repairet, ki ben nus vengerat.»
CLX
Paien dient: «Si mare fumes nez!
Cum pes[mes] jurz nus est hoi ajurnez!
Perdut avum noz seignurs e noz pers.
Carles repeiret od sa grant ost li ber;
2150
De cels de France odum les graisles clers,
Grant est la noise de «Munjoie!» escrier.
Li quens Rollant est de tant grant fiertet,
Ja n'ert vencut pur nul hume carnel.
Lancuns a lui, puis sil laissums ester.»
2155
E il si firent darz e wigres asez,
Espiez e lances e museraz enpennez;
(Le) L'escut Rollant unt frait e estroet,
E sun osberc rumput e desmailet;
f.39v
Mais enz el cors ne l'unt mie adeset.
2160
Mais Veillantif unt en .XXX. lius nafret,
Desuz le cunte, si l'i unt mort laisset.
Paien s'en fuient, puis sil laisent ester.
Li quens Rollant i est remes a pied. aoi.
CLXI
Paien s'en fuient, curucus e irez;
2165
Envers Espaigne tendent de l'espleiter.
Li quens Rollant nes ad dunt encalcer:
Perdut i ad Veillantif sun destrer;
Voellet o nun, remes i est a piet.
A l'arcevesque Turpin alat aider:
2170
Sun elme ad or li deslaçat del chef,
Si li tolit le blanc osberc leger,
E sun blialt li ad tut detrenchet;
En ses granz plaies les pans li ad butet;
Cuntre sun piz puis si l'ad enbracet;
2175
Sur l'erbe verte puis l'at suef culchet,
Mult dulcement li ad Rollant preiet:
«E! gentilz hom, car me dunez cunget!
Noz cumpaignuns, que oümes tanz chers,
Or sunt il morz: nes i devuns laiser.
2180
Joes voell aler querre e entercer,
Dedevant vos juster e enrenger.»
Dist l'arcevesque: «Alez e repairez!
Cist camp est vostre, mercit Deu [...] mien.»
CLXII
Rollant s'en turnet, par le camp vait tut suls,
2185
Cercet les vals e si cercet les munz:
Iloec truvat Gerin e Gerer sun cumpaignun.
f.40r
E si truvat Berenger e Attun;
Iloec truvat Anseïs e Sansun,
Truvat Gerard le veill de Russillun.
2190
Par uns e uns les ad pris le barun,
A l'arcevesque en est venuz a tut,
Sis mist en reng dedevant ses genuilz.
Li arcevesque ne poet muer n'en plurt,
Lievet sa main, fait sa b[en]eïçun,
2195
Apres ad dit: «Mare fustes, seignurs!
Tutes voz anmes ait Deus li Glorius!
En pareïs les metet en se[i]ntes flurs!
La meie mort me rent si anguissus:
Ja ne verrai le riche empereuür!»
CLXIII
2200
Rollant s'en turnet, le camp vait recercer,
Sun cumpaignun ad truvet, Oliver:
Encuntre sun piz estreit l'ad enbracet;
Si cum il poet a l'arcevesques en vent,
Sur un escut l'ad as altres culchet,
2205
E l'arcevesque (les) [l']ad asols e seignet.
Idunc agreget le doel e la pitet.
Ço dit Rollant: «Bels cumpainz Oliver,
Vos fustes fils al duc Reiner
Ki tint la marche del val de Runers.
2210
Pur hanste freindre e pur escuz peceier,
Pur orgoillos veincre e esmaier,
E pur prozdomes tenir e cunseiller,
E pur glutun veincre e esmaier,
En nule tere n'ad meillor chevaler!»
CLXIV
f.40v
Li quens Rollant, quant il veit mort ses pers,
E Oliver, qu'il tant poeit amer,
Tendrur en out, cumencet a plurer.
En sun visage fut mult desculurez.
Si grant doel out que mais ne pout ester;
2220
Voeillet o nun, a tere chet pasmet.
Dist l'arcevesque: «Tant mare fustes ber!»
CLXV
Li arcevesques quant vit pasmer Rollant,
Dunc out tel doel unkes mais n'out si grant.
Tendit sa main, si ad pris l'olifan:
2225
En Rencesvals ad un ewe curant;
Aler i volt, sin durrat a Rollant.
Sun petit pas s'en turnet cancelant.
Il est si fieble qu'il ne poet en avant;
N'en ad vertut, trop ad perdut del sanc.
2230
Einz que om alast un sul arpent de camp,
Falt li le coer, si est chaeit avant.
La sue mort l'i vait mult angoissant.
CLXVI
Li quens Rollant revient de pasmeisuns:
Sur piez se drecet, mais il ad grant dulur.
2235
Guardet aval e si guardet amunt:
Sur l'erbe verte, ultre ses cumpaignuns,
La veit gesir le nobilie barun,
Ço est l'arcevesque, que Deus mist en sun num.
Cleimet sa culpe, si reguardet amunt,
2240
Cuntre le ciel amsdous ses mains ad juinz,
Si priet Deu que pareïs li duinst.
[Morz est Turpin, le guerreier Charlun.]
f.41r
Par granz batailles e par mult bels sermons,
Cuntre paiens fut tuz tens campiuns.
2245
Deus li otreit (la sue) seinte beneïçun! aoi.
CLXVII
Li quens Rollant veit l'ar[ce]vesque a tere:
Defors sun cors veit gesir la buele;
Desuz le frunt li buillit la cervele.
Desur sun piz, entre les dous furceles,
2250
Cruisiedes ad ses blanches [mains], les beles.
Forment le pleignet a la lei de sa tere:
«E! gentilz hom, chevaler de bon aire,
Hoi te cumant al Glorius celeste!
Jamais n'ert hume plus volenters le serve.
2255
Des les apostles ne fut hom tel prophete
Pur lei tenir e pur humes atraire.
Ja la vostre anme nen ait sufraite!
De pareïs li seit la porte uverte!»
CLXVIII
Ço sent Rollant que la mort li est pres
2260
Par les oreilles fors se ist la cervel.
De ses pers priet Deu ques apelt,
E pois de lui a l'angle Gabriel.
Prist l'olifan, que reproce n'en ait,
E Durendal s'espee en l'altre main.
2265
D'un arcbaleste ne poet traire un quarrel,
Devers Espaigne en vait en un guaret;
Muntet sur un tertre; desuz un arbre bel(e)
Quatre perruns i ad, de marbre fait(e).
Sur l'erbe verte si est caeit envers:
2270
La s'est pasmet, kar la mort li est pres.
CLXIX
f.41v
Halt sunt li pui e mult halt les arbres.
Quatre perruns i ad luisant de marbre.
Sur l'erbe verte li quens Rollant se pasmet.
Uns Sarrazins tute veie l'esguardet:
2275
Si se feinst mort, si gist entre les altres;
Del sanc luat sun cors e sun visage.
Met sei en piez e de curre s'astet.
Bels fut e forz e de grant vasselage;
Par sun orgoill cumencet mortel rage;
2280
Rollant saisit e sun cors e ses armes,
E dist un mot: «Vencut est li nies Carles!
Iceste espee porterai en Arabe.»
En cel tirer(es) li quens s'aperçut alques.
CLXX
Ço sent Rollant que s'espee li tolt.
2285
Uvrit les oilz, si li ad dit un mot:
«Men escientre, tu n'ies mie des noz!»
Tient l'olifan, que unkes perdre ne volt,
Sil fiert en l'elme, ki gemmet fut a or:
Fruisset l'acer e la teste e les ós,
2290
Amsdous les oilz del chef li ad mis fors;
Jus a ses piez si l'ad tresturnet mort.
Apres li dit: «Culvert paien, cum fus unkes si ós
Que me saisis, ne a dreit ne a tort?
Ne l'orrat hume, ne t'en tienget por fol.
2295
Fenduz en est mis olifans el gros,
Caiuz en est li cristals e li ors.»
CLXXI
Ço sent Rollant la veúe ad perdue;
Met sei sur piez, quanqu'il poet, s'esvertuet;
f.42r
En sun visage sa culur ad perdue.
2300
Dedevant lui ad une perre byse:
.X. colps i fiert par doel e par rancune.
Cruist li acers, ne freint, [ne] n'esgruignet.
«E!» dist li quens, «sainte Marie, aiue!
E! Durendal, bone, si mare fustes!
2305
Quant jo mei perd, de vos n'en ai mais cure.
Tantes batailles en camp en ai vencues.
E tantes teres larges escumbatues,
Que Carles tient, ki la barbe ad canue!
Ne vos ait hume ki pur altre fuiet!
2310
Mult bon vassal vos ad lung tens tenue:
Jamais n'ert tel en France l'asolue.»
CLXXII
Rollant ferit el perrun de sardónie.
Cruist li acers, ne briset ne n'esgrunie.
Quant il ço vit que n'en pout mie freindre,
2315
A sei meïsme la cumencet a pleindre:
«E! Durendal, cum es bele, e clere, e blanche!
Cuntre soleill si luises e reflambes!
Carles esteit es vals de Moriane,
Quant Deus del cel li mandat par sun a[n]gle,
2320
Qu'il te dunast a un cunte cataignie:
Dunc la me ceinst li gentilz reis, li magnes.
Jo l'en cunquis Namon e Bretaigne,
Si l'en cunquis e Peitou e le Maine;
Jo l'en cunquis Normendie la franche,
2325
Si l'en cunquis Provence e Equitaigne
E Lumbardie e trestute (r)Romaine;
f.42v
Jo l'en cunquis Baiver e tute Flandres,
E Burguigne e trestute Puillanie,
Costentinnoble, dunt il out la fiance,
2330
E en Saisonie fait il ço, qu'il demandet;
Jo l'en cunquis e Escoce e Vales Islonde,
E Engletere, que il teneit sa cambre;
Cunquis l'en ai païs e teres tantes,
Que Carles tient, ki ad la barbe blanche.
2335
Pur ceste espee ai dulor e pesance:
Mielz voeill murir qu'entre paiens remaigne.
Deus! Perre, n'en laise(i)t hunir France!»
CLXXIII
Rollant ferit en une perre bise,
Plus en abat que jo ne vos sai dire.
2340
L'espee cruist, ne fruisset, ne ne brise,
Cuntre ciel amunt est resortie.
Quant veit li quens que ne la freindrat mie,
Mult dulcement la pleinst a sei meïsme:
«E! Durendal, cum es bele e seintisme!
2345
En l'oriet punt asez i ad reliques:
La dent seint Perre e del sanc seint Basilie,
E des chevels mun seignor seint Denise,
Del vestement i ad seinte Marie.
Il nen est dreiz que paiens te baillisent;
2350
De chrestiens devrez estre servie.
Ne vos ait hume ki facet cuardie!
Mult larges teres de vus avrai cunquises,
Que Carles les tent, ki la barbe ad flurie.
E li empereres en est ber e riches.»
CLXXIV
2355
Ço sent Rollant que la mort le tresprent,
f.43r
Devers la teste sur le quer li descent.
Desuz un pin i est alet curant,
Sur l'erbe verte s'i est culcet adenz,
Desuz lui met s'espee e l'olifan (en sumet);
2360
Turnat sa teste vers la paiene gent;
Pur ço l'at fait que il voelt veirement
Que Carles diet e trestute sa gent,
Li gentilz quens, qu'il fut mort cunquerant.
Cleimet sa culpe e menut e suvent;
2365
Pur ses pecchez Deu (recleimet) en puroffrid lo guant. aoi.
CLXXV
Ço sent Rollant de sun tens n'i ad plus.
Devers Espaigne est en un pui agut;
A l'une main si ad sun piz batud:
«Deus, meie culpe vers les tues vertuz
2370
De mes pecchez, des granz e des menuz
Que jo ai fait des l'ure que nez fui
Tresqu'a cest jur que ci sui consoüt!»
Sun destre guant en ad vers Deu tendut:
Angles del ciel i descendent a lui. aoi.
CLXXVI
2375
Li quens Rollant se jut desuz un pin;
Envers Espaigne en ad turnet sun vis.
De plusurs choses a remembrer li prist:
De tantes teres cum li bers conquist,
De dulce France, des humes de sun lign,
2380
De Carlemagne, sun seignor, kil nurrit.
Ne poet muer n'en plurt e ne suspirt.
Mais lui meïsme ne volt mettre en ubli,
f.43v
Cleimet sa culpe, si priet Deu mercit:
«Veire Patene, ki unkes ne mentis,
2385
Seint Lazaron de mort resurrexis,
E Daniel des leons guaresis,
Guaris de mei l'anme de tuz perilz
Pur les pecchez que en ma vie fis!»
Sun destre guant a Deu en puroffrit;
2390
Seint Gabriel de sa main l'ad pris.
Desur sun braz teneit le chef enclin;
Juntes ses mains est alet a sa fin.
Deus tramist sun angle Cherubin,
E seint Michel del Peril;
2395
Ensembl'od els sent Gabriel i vint.
L'anme del cunte portent en pareïs.
CLXXVII
Morz est Rollant, Deus en ad l'anme es cels.
Li emperere en Rence[s]val[s] parvient.
Il nen i ad ne veie ne senter,
2400
Ne voide tere, ne alne (illi) [ne] plein pied,
Que il n'i ait o Franceis ó paien.
Carles escriet: «U estes vos, bels nies?
U est l'arcevesque e li quens Oliver?
U est Gerins e sis cumpainz Gerers?
2405
U est Otes e li quens Berengers
Ive e Ivorie, que jo aveie tant chers?
Que est devenuz li Guascuinz Engeler?
Sansun li dux e Anseïs li bers?
U est Gerard de Russillun li veilz?
f.44r
Li .XII. per, que jo aveie laiset?»
De ço qui chelt, quant nul n'en respundiet?
– «Deus!» dist li reis, «tant me pois esmaer
Que jo ne fui a l'estur cumencer!»
Tiret sa barbe cum hom ki est iret;
2415
Plurent des oilz si baron chevaler;
Encuntre tere se pasment .XX. millers.
Naimes li dux en ad mult grant pitet.
CLXXVIII
Il n'en i ad chevaler ne barun
Que de pitet mult durement ne plurt;
2420
Plurent lur filz, lur freres, lur nevolz,
E lur amis e lur lige seignurs;
Encuntre tere se pasment [...] li plusur.
Naimes li dux d'iço ad fait que proz,
Tuz premereins l'ad dit l empereür:
2425
«Veez avant de dous liwes de nus,
Ve[d]e[i]r puez les granz chemins puldrus,
(Que) Qu'ase(n)z i ad de la gent paienur.
Car chevalchez! Vengez ceste dulor!»
– «E! Deus!» dist Carles, «ja sunt il ja si luinz!
2430
Cunse[i]l[l]ez mei e dreit[ure] e honur;
De France dulce m'unt tolud la flur.»
Li reis cumandet Gebuin e Otun,
Tedbalt de Reins e le cunte Milun:
«Guardez le champ e les vals e les munz.
2435
Lessez gesir les morz tut issi cun il sunt,
Que n'i adeist ne beste ne lion,
Ne n'i adeist esquier ne garçun;
f.44v
Jo vus defend que n'i adeist nuls hom,
Josque Deus voeil[l]e que en cest camp revengum.»
2440
E cil respundent dulcement, par amur:
«Dreiz emperere, cher sire, si ferum!»
Mil chevaler i retienent des lur. aoi.
CLXXIX
Li empereres fait ses graisles suner,
Puis si chevalchet od sa grant ost li ber.
2445
De cels d'Espaigne unt lur les dos turnez,
Tenent l'enchalz, tuit en sunt cumunel.
Quant veit li reis le vespres decliner,
Sur l'erbe verte descent li reis en un pred,
Culchet sei a tere, si priet Damnedeu
2450
Que li soleilz facet pur lui arester,
La nuit targer e le jur demurer.
Ais li un angle ki od lui soelt parler,
Isnelement si li ad comandet:
«Charle, chevalche, car tei ne faudrad clartet!
2455
La flur de France as perdut, ço set Deus.
Venger te poez de la gent criminel.»
A icel mot est l'emperere muntet. aoi.
CLXXX
Pur Karlemagne fist Deus vertuz mult granz,
Car li soleilz est remes en estant.
2460
Paien s'en fuient, ben les chalcent Franc.
El Val Tenebrus la les vunt ateignant,
Vers Sarraguce les enchalcent [...] franc,
A colps pleners les en vunt ociant,
Tolent lur veies e les chemins plus granz.
2465
L'ewe de Sebre, el lur est dedevant:
f.45r
Mult est parfunde, merveill[us]e e curant;
Il n'en i ad barge, ne drodmund ne caland.
Paiens recleiment un lur deu, Tervagant,
Puis saillent enz, mais il n'i unt guarant.
2470
Li adubez en sunt li plus pesant,
Env(er)ers les funz s'en turnerent alquanz;
Li altre en vunt cuntreval flotant.
Li miez guariz en unt boüd itant,
Tuz sunt neiez par merveillus ahan.
2475
Franceis escrient: «Mare fustes, Rollant!» aoi.
CLXXXI
Quant Carles veit que tuit sunt mort paiens,
Alquanz ocis e li plusur neiet,
Mult grant eschec en unt si chevaler,
Li gentilz reis descendut est a piet,
2480
Culchet sei a tere, sin ad Deu graciet.
Quant il se drecet, li soleilz est culchet.
Dist l'emperere: «Tens est del herberger;
En Rencesvals est tart del repairer:
Nos chevals sunt e las e ennuiez.
2485
Tolez lur les seles, le freins qu'il unt es chefs,
E par cez prez les laisez refreider.»
Respundent Franc: «Sire, vos dites bien.» aoi.
CLXXXII
Li emperere ad prise sa herberge.
Franceis descendent en la tere deserte,
2490
A lur chevals unt toleites les seles,
Les freins a or e metent jus des testes,
Livrent lur prez, asez i ad fresche herbe;
D'altre cunreid ne lur poeent plus faire.
f.45v
Ki mult est las, il se dort cuntre tere.
2495
Icele noit n'unt unkes escalguaite.
CLXXXIII
Li emperere s'est culcet en un pret:
Sun grant espiet met a sun chef li ber;
Icele noit ne se volt il desarmer,
Si ad vestut sun blanc osberc sasfret,
2500
Laciet sun elme, ki est a or gemmet,
Ceinte Joiuse, unches ne fut sa per,
Ki cascun jur muet .XXX. clartez.
Asez savum de la lance parler
Dunt Nostre Sire fut en la cruiz nasfret:
2505
Carles en ad la mure, mercit Deu;
en l'oret punt l'ad faite manuvrer.
Pur ceste honur e pur ceste bontet,
Li nums Joiuse l'espee fut dunet.
Baruns franceis nel deivent ublier:
2510
Enseigne en unt de «Munjoie!» crier;
Pur ço nes poet nule gent cuntrester.
CLXXXIV
Clere est la noit e la lune luisante.
Carles se gist, mais doel ad de Rollant
E d'Oliver li peiset mult forment,
2515
Des .XII. pers e de la franceise gent.
[Qu']en Rencesvals ad laiset morz sang[l]enz.
Ne poet muer n'en plurt e nes dement
E priet Deu qu'as anmes seit guarent.
Las est li reis, kar la peine est mult grant;
2520
Endormiz est, ne pout mais en avant.
Par tuz les prez or se dorment li Franc.
f.46r
N'i ad cheval ki puisset ester en estant;
Ki herbe voelt, il la prent en gisant.
Mult ad apris ki bien conuist ahan.
CLXXXV
2525
Karles se dort cum hume traveillet.
Seint Gabriel li ad Deus enveiet:
L'empereür li cumandet a guarder.
Li angles est tute noit a sun chef.
Par avisiun li ad anunciet
2530
D'une bataille ki encuntre lui ert:
Senefiance l'en demustrat mult gref.
Carles guardat amunt envers le ciel,
Veit les tuneires e les venz e les giels,
E les orez, les merveillus tempez,
2535
E fous e flambes i est apareillez:
Isnelement sur tute sa gent chet.
Ardent cez hanstes de fraisne e de pumer
E cez escuz jesqu'as bucles d'or mier,
Fruisent cez hanstes de cez trenchanz espiez,
2540
Cruissent osbercs e cez helmes d'acer.
En grant dulor i veit ses chevalers.
Urs e leuparz les voelent puis manger,
Serpenz e guivres, dragun e averser;
Grifuns i ad, plus de trente millers:
2545
N'en i ad cel a Franceis ne s'agiet.
E Franceis crient: «Carlemagne, aidez!»
Li reis en ad e dulur e pitet;
Aler i volt, mais il ad desturber.
f.46v
Devers un gualt uns granz leons li vint,
2550
Mult par ert pesmes e orguillus e fiers;
Sun cors meïsmes i asalt e requert,
E prenent sei a braz ambesdous por loiter;
Mais ço ne set liquels abat ne quels chiet.
Li emperere n'est mie esveillet.
CLXXXVI
2555
Apres icel li vien[t] un altre avisiun,
Qu'il ert en France, ad Ais, a un perrun,
En dous chaeines si teneit un brohun.
Devers Ardene veeit venir .XXX. urs,
Cascun parolet altresi cume hum.
2560
Diseient li: «Sire rendez le nus!
Il nen est dreiz que il seit mais od vos;
Nostre parent devum estre a sucurs.»
De sun paleis uns veltres acurt;
Entre les altres asaillit le greignur
2565
Sur l'erbe verte ultre ses cumpaignuns.
La vit li reis si merveillus estur;
Mais ço ne set liquels veint ne quels nun.
Li angles Deu ço ad mustret al barun.
Carles se dort tresqu'al demain, al cler jur.
CLXXXVII
2570
Li reis Marsilie s'en fuit en Sarraguce.
Suz un olive est descendut en l'umbre,
S'espee rent e sun elme e sa bronie;
Sur la verte herbe mult laidement se culcet;
La destre main ad perdue trestute;
2575
Del sanc qu'en ist se pasmet e angoiset.
f.47r
Dedevant lui sa muiller, Bramimunde,
Pluret e criet, mult forment se doluset;
Ensembl'od li plus de .XX. mil humes,
Si maldient Carlun e France dulce.
2580
Ad Apolin (en) curent en une crute,
Tencent a lui, laidement le despersunent:
«E! malvais deus, por quei nus fais tel hunte?
Cest nostre rei por quei lessas cunfundre?
Ki mult te sert, malvais luer l'en dunes!»
2585
Puis si li tolent se sceptre e sa curune.
Par les mains le pendent sur une culumbe,
Entre lur piez a tere le tresturnent,
A granz bastuns le batent e defruisent.
E Tervagan tolent sun escarbuncle,
2590
E Mahumet enz en un fosset butent,
E porc e chen le mordent e defulent.
CLXXXVIII
De pa(i)smeisuns en est venuz Marsilies:
Fait sei porter en sa cambre voltice;
Plusurs culurs i ad peinz e escrites.
2595
E Bramimunde le pluret, la reïne,
Trait ses chevels, si se cleimet caitive,
A l'altre mot mult haltement s'escriet:
«E! Sarraguce, cum ies oi desguarnie
Del gentil rei ki t'aveit en baillie!
2600
Li nostre deu i unt fait felonie,
Ki en bataille oi matin le faillirent.
Li amiralz i ferat cuardie
S'il ne cumbat a cele gent hardie,
f.47v
Ki si sunt fiers n'unt cure de lur vies.
2605
Li emperere od la barbe flurie,
Vasselage ad e mult grant estultie;
S'il ad bataill(i)e, il ne s'en fuirat mie.
Mult est grant doel que n'en est ki l'ociet!»
CLXXXIX
Li emperere par sa grant poestet,
2610
.VII. anz tuz plens ad en Espaigne estet;
Prent i chastels e alquantes citez.
Li reis Marsilie s'en purcacet asez:
Al premer an fist ses brefs seieler,
En Babilonie Baligant ad mandet,
2615
Ço est l'amiraill, le viel d'antiquitet,
Tut survesquiet e Virgilie e Omer,
En Sarraguce alt sucurre li ber;
E, s'il nel fait, il guerpirat ses deus
E tuz ses ydeles que il soelt adorer,
2620
Si recevrat sainte chrestientet,
A Charlemagne se vuldrat acorder.
E cil est loinz, si ad mult demuret;
Mandet sa gent de .XL. regnez,
Ses granz drodmunz en ad fait aprester,
2625
Eschiez e barges e galies e nefs.
Suz Alixandre ad un port juste mer:
Tut sun navilie i ad fait aprester.
Ço est en mai, al premer jur d'ested:
Tutes ses oz ad empeintes en mer.
CXC
2630
Granz sunt les oz de cele gent averse:
Siglent a fort e nagent e guvernent.
En sum cez maz e en cez (les) [h]altes vernes,
f.48r
Asez i ad carbuncles e lanternes;
La sus amunt pargetent tel luiserne
2635
Par la noit la mer en est plus bele.
E cum il vienent en Espaigne la tere,
Tut li païs en reluist e esclairet.
Jesqu'a Marsilie en parvunt les noveles. aoi.
CXCI
Gent paienor ne voelent cesser unkes:
2640
Issent de mer, venent as ewes dulces,
Laisent Marbrose e si laisent Marbrise,
Par Sebre amunt tut lur naviries turnent.
Asez i ad lanternes e carbuncles:
Tute la noit mult grant clartet lur dunent.
2645
A icel jur venent a Sarraguce. aoi.
CXCII
Clers est li jurz et li soleilz luisant.
Li amiralz est issut del calan:
Espaneliz fors le vait adestrant,
.XVII. reis apres le vunt siwant;
2650
Cuntes e dux i ad ben ne sai quanz.
Suz un lorer, ki est en mi un camp,
Sur l'erbe verte getent un palie blanc:
U[n] faldestoed i unt mis d'olifan.
Desur s'asiet li paien Baligant;
2655
Tuit li altre sunt remes en estant.
Li sire d'els premer parlat avant:
«Oiez ore, franc chevaler vaillant!
Carles li reis, l'emperere des Francs,
Ne deit manger, se jo ne li cumant.
2660
Par tute Espaigne m'at fait guere mult grant:
f.48v
En France dulce le voeil aler querant.
Ne finerai en trestut mun vivant
Josqu'il seit mort u tut vif recreant.»
Sur sun genoill en fiert sun destre guant.
CXCIII
2665
Puis qu'il l'ad dit, mult s'en est afichet
Que ne lairat pur tut l'or desuz ciel,
Que il ainz ad Ais, o Carles soelt plaider.
Si hume li lo[d]ent, si li unt cunseillet.
Puis apelat dous de ses chevalers,
2670
L'un Clarifan e l'altre Clarïen:
«Vos estes filz al rei Maltraïen,
Ki messages soleit faire volenters.
Jo vos cumant qu'en Sarraguce algez;
Marsiliun de meie part li nunciez,
2675
Cuntre Franceis li sui venut aider.
Se jo truis ó, mult grant bataille i ert;
Si l'en dunez cest guant ad or pleiet,
El destre poign si li faites chalcer.
Si li portez cest [bast]uncel d'or mer,
2680
E a mei venget pur reconoistre sun feu.
En France irai pur Carles guerreier;
S'en ma mercit ne se culzt a mes piez
E ne guerpisset la lei de chrestiens,
Jo li toldrai la co(r)rune del chef.»
2685
Paien respundent «Sire, mult dites bien.»
CXCIV
Dist Baligant: «Car chevalchez, barun!
L'un port le guant, li alt]r]e le bastun!»
E cil respundent «Cher sire, si ferum.»
f.49r
Tant chevalcherent que en Sarraguce sunt.
2690
Passent .X. portes, traversent .IIII. punz,
Tutes les rues u li burgeis estunt.
Cum il aproisment en la citet amunt,
Vers le paleis oïrent grant fremur;
Asez i ad de cele gent paienur,
2695
Plurent e crient, demeinent grant dolor,
Pleignent lur deus Tervagan e Mahum
E Apollin, dunt il mie n'en unt.
Dist cascun a l'altre: «Caitifs, que devendrum?
Sur nus est venue male confusiun.
2700
Perdut avum le rei Marsiliun:
Li quens Rollant li trenchat ier le destre poign.
Nus n'avum mie de Jurfaleu le Blunt.
Trestute Espaigne iert hoi en lur bandun.»
Li dui message descendent al perrun.
CXCV
2705
Lur chevals laisent dedesuz un olive:
Dui Sarrazin par les resnes les pristrent.
E li message par les mantels se tindrent,
Puis sunt muntez sus el paleis altisme.
Cum il entrent en la cambre voltice,
2710
Par bel amur malvais saluz li firent:
«Cil Mahumet ki nus ad en baillie,
E Tervagan e Apollin, nostre sire,
Sálvent le rei e guardent la reïne!»
Dist Bramimunde: «Or oi mult grant folie!
2715
Cist nostre deu sunt en recreantise.
En Rencesval m[al]vaises vertuz firent:
f.49v
Noz chevalers i unt lesset ocire;
Cest mien seignur en bataille faillirent;
Le destre poign ad perdut, n'en ad mie,
2720
Si li trenchat li quens Rollant, li riches.
Trestute Espaigne avrat Carles en baillie.
Que devendrai, duluruse, caitive?
E! lasse, que n'en ai un hume ki m'ociet!» aoi.
CXCVI
Dist Clarien «Dame, ne parlez mie itant!
2725
Messages sumes al paien Baligant.
Marsiliun, ço dit, serat guarant,
Si l'en enveiet sun bastun e sun guant.
En Sebre avum .IIII. milie calant,
Eschiez e barges e galees curant;
2730
Drodmunz i ad ne vos sai dire quanz.
Li amiralz est riches e puisant:
En France irat Carlemagne querant;
Rendre le quidet u mort ó recreant.»
Dist Bramimunde «Mar en irat itant!
2735
Plus pres d'ici purrez truver les Francs.
En ceste tere ad estet ja .VII. anz.
Li emperere est ber e cumbatant:
Meilz voel murir que ja fuiet de camp;
Suz ciel n'ad rei qu'il prist a un enfant.
2740
Carles ne creint nuls hom ki seit vivant.»
CXCVII
– «Laissez ço ester!« dist Marsilies li reis.
Dist as messages: «Seignurs, parlez a mei!
Ja veez vos que a mort sui destreit,
Jo si nen ai filz ne fille ne heir:
f.50r
Un en aveie, cil fut ocis her seir.
Mun seignur dites qu'il me vienge veeir.
Li amiraill ad en Espaigne dreit:
Quite li cleim, se il la voelt aveir,
Puis la defendet encuntre li Franceis!
2750
Vers Carlemagne li durrai bon conseill:
Cunquis l'avrat d'oi cest jur en un meis.
De Sarraguce les clefs li portereiz;
Pui li dites, il n'en irat, s'il me creit.»
Cil respundent: «Sire, vus dites veir.» aoi.
CXCVIII
2755
Ço dist Marsilie: «Carles l'emperere
Mort m'ad mes homes, ma tere deguastee,
E mes citez fraites e violees.
Il jut anuit sur cel ewe de Sebre:
Jo ai cunte n'i ad mais que .VII. liwes.
2760
L'amirail dites que sun host i amein.
Par vos li mand bataille i seit justee.»
De Sarraguce les clefs li ad livrees.
Li messager ambedui l'enclinerent,
Prenent cu(i)[n]get, a cel mot s'en turnerent.
CXCIX
2765
Li dui message es chevals sunt muntet.
Isnelement issent de la citet,
A l'amiraill en vunt esfreedement;
De Sarra[gu]ce li presentent les cles.
Dist Baligant: «Que avez vos truvet?
2770
U est Marsilie, que jo aveie mandet?«
Dist Clarïen: «Il est a mort nasfret.
Li emperere fut ier as porz passer,
f.50v
Si s'en vuolt en dulce France aler.
Par grant honur se fist rereguarder:
2775
Li quens Rollant i fut remes, sis nies,
E Oliver e tuit li .XII. per,
De cels de France .XX. milie adubez.
Li reis Marsilie s'i cumbatit, li bers.
Il e Rollant el camp furent remes:
2780
De Durendal li dunat un colp tel
Le destre poign li ad del cors sevret;
Sun filz ad mort, qu'il tant suleit amer,
E li baron qu'il i out amenet.
Fuiant s'en vint, qu'il n'i pout mes ester.
2785
Li emperere l'ad enchalcet asez.
Li reis mandet que vos le sucurez.
Quite vus cleimet d'Espaigne le regnet.»
E Baligant cumencet a penser;
Si grant doel ad por poi qu'il n'est desvet. aoi.
Laisses CC - CCXLIX
CC
2790
«Sire amiralz,» dist Clarïens,
«En Rencesvals une bataille out íer.
Morz est Rollant e li quens Oliver,
Li .XII. per, que Carles aveit tant cher;
De lur Franceis i ad mort .XX. millers.
2795
Li reis Marsilie le destre poign i perdit,
E l'emperere asez l'ad enchalcet,
En ceste tere n'est remes chevaler
Ne seit ocis o en Sebre neiet.
Desur la rive sunt Frances herbergiez:
2800
En cest païs nus sunt tant aproeciez,
f.51r
Se vos volez, li repaires ert grefs.»
E Baligant le reguart en ad fiers,
En sun curage en est joüs e liet.
Del faldestod se redrecet en piez,
2805
Puis escriet: «Baruns, ne vos targez!
Eissez des nefs, muntez, si cevalciez!
S'or ne s'en fuit Karlemagne li veilz,
Li reis Marsilie enqui serat venget:
Pur sun poign destre l'en liverai le che(s)[f].»
CCI
2810
Paien d'Arabe des nefs se sunt eissut,
Puis sunt muntez es chevals e es muls;
Si chevalcherent, que fereient il plus?
Li amiralz, ki trestuz les esmut,
Sin apelet Gemalfin, un sun drut:
2815
«Jo te cumant de tutes mes oz l'aunde.»
Puis en un sun destrer brun est munte;
Ensembl'od lui emmeinet .IIII. dux.
Tant chevalchat qu'en Sarraguce fut.
A un perron de marbre est descenduz,
2820
E quatre cuntes l'estreu li unt tenut.
Par les degrez el paleis muntet sus,
E Bramidonie vient curant cuntre lui;
Si li ad dit: «Dolente, si mare fui!
A itel hunte, sire, mon seignor ai perdut!»
2825
Chet li as piez, li amiralz la reçut;
Sus en la chambre ad doel en sunt venut. aoi.
CCII
Li reis Marsilie, cum il veit Baligant,
Dunc apelat dui Sarrazin espans:
f.51v
«Pernez m'as braz, sim(e) drecez en seant.»
2830
Al puign senestre ad pris un de ses guanz.
Ço dist Marsilie: «Sire reis, amiralz,
Teres tutes ici [...] rengnes vos rendemas
E Sarraguce e l'onur qu'i apent.
Mei ai perdut e tute ma gent.»
2835
E cil respunt: «Tant sy jo plus dolent.
Ne pois a vos tenir lung parlement:
Jo sai asez que Carles ne m'atent,
E nepurquant de vos receif le guant.»
Al doel qu'il ad s'en est turnet plurant. aoi.
2840
Par les degrez jus del paleis descent,
Muntet el ceval, vient a sa gent puignant.
Tant chevalchat, qu'il est premers devant,
De uns ad altres si se vait escriant:
«Venez paien, car ja s'en fuient Frant!» aoi.
CCIII
2845
Al matin, quant primes pert li albe,
Esveillez est li e[m]perere Carles.
Sein Gabriel, ki de part Deu le guarde,
Levet sa main, sur lui fait sun signacle.
Li reis descent, si ad rendut ses armes,
2850
Si se desarment par tute l'ost li altre.
Puis sunt muntet, par grant vertut chevalchent
Cez veiez lunges e cez chemins mult larges,
Si vunt ve[d]eir le merveillus damage
En Rencesvals, la ó fut la bataille. aoi.
CCIV
2855
En Rencesvals en est Carles venuz.
Des morz qu'il troevet cumencet a plurer.
f.52r
Dist a Franceis: «Segnu[r]s, le pas tenez;
Kar mei meïsme estoet avant aler
Pur mun nev[ol]d que vuldreie truver.
2860
A Eis esteie, a une féste anoel:
Si se vant(t)[er]ent mi vaillant chevaler
De granz batailles, de forz esturs pleners.
D'une raisun oï Rollant parler:
Ja ne (ne) murreit en estrange regnet
2865
Ne trespassast ses hume[s] e ses pers;
Vers lur païs avreit sun chef turnet;
Cunquerrantment si finereit li bers.»
Plus qu'en ne poet un bastuncel jeter,
Devant les altres est en un pui muntet.
CCV
2870
Quant l'empereres vait querre sun nevold,
De tantes herbes el pre truvat les flors,
Ki sunt vermeilz del sanc de noz barons!
Pitet en ad, ne poet muer n'en plurt.
Desuz dous arbres parvenuz est [...] li reis.
2875
Les colps Rollant conut en treis per(r)uns,
Sur l'erbe verte veit gesir sun nevuld;
Nen est merveille se Karles ad irur.
Descent a pied, aled i est pleins curs,
Entre ses mains ansdous prent le priest suus;
2880
Sur lui se pasmet, tant par est anguissus.
CCVI
Li empereres de pasmeisuns revint.
Naimes li dux e li quens Acelin,
Gefrei d'Anjou e sun frere Henri
Prenent le rei, sil drecent suz un pin.
f.52v
Guardet a la tere, veit sun nevold gesir.
Tant dulcement a regreter le prist:
«Amis Rollant, de tei ait Deus mercit!
Unques nuls hom tel chevaler ne vit
Por granz batailles juster e defenir.
2890
La meie honor est turnet en declin.»
Carles se pasmet, ne s'en pout astenir. aoi.
CCVII
Carles li reis se vint de pasmeisuns;
Par mains le tienent .III. de ses barons.
Guardet a tere, veit gesir sun nev[u]ld:
2895
Cors ad gaillard, perdue ad sa culur,
Turnez ses oilz, mult li sunt tenebros.
Carles le pleint par feid e par amur:
«Ami Rollant, Deus metet t'anme en flors,
En pareïs, entre les glorius!
2900
Cum en Espaigne venis [a] mal seignur!
Jamais n'ert jurn que de tei n'aie dulur.
Cum decarrat ma force e ma baldur!
N'en avrai ja ki sustienget m'onur;
Suz ciel ne quid aveir ami un sul!
2905
Se jo ai parenz, n'en i ad nul si proz.»
Trait ses crignels, pleines ses mains amsdous,
Cent milie Franc en unt si grant dulur
N'en i ad cel ki durement ne plurt. aoi.
CCVIII
«Ami Rollant, jo m'en irai en France.
2910
Cum jo serai a Loün, en ma chambre,
De plusurs regnes vendrunt li hume estrange;
Demanderunt: «U est quens cataignes?»
f.53r
Jo lur dirrai qu'il est morz en Espaigne.
A grant dulur tendrai puis mun reialme:
2915
Jamais n'ert jur que ne plur ne n'en pleigne.»
CCIX
– «Ami Rollant, prozdoem, juvente bele,
Cum jo serai a Eis, em ma chapele,
Vendrunt li hume, demanderunt noveles;
Jes lur dirrai, merveilluses e pesmes:
2920
«Morz est mis nies, ki tant me fist cunquere.»
Encuntre mei revelerunt li Seisne,
E Hungre e Bugre e tante gent averse,
Romain, Puillain e tuit icil de Palerne
E cil d'Affrike e cil de Califerne;
2925
Puis entrerunt mes peines e mes suffraites.
Ki guierat mes oz a tel poeste,
Quant cil est [morz] ki tuz jurz nos cadelet?
E! France, cum remeines deserte!
Si grant doel ai que jo ne vuldreie estre!»
2930
Sa barbe blanche cumencet a detraire,
Ad ambes mains les chevels de sa teste.
Cent milie Francs s'en pasment cuntre tere.
CCX
«Ami Rollant, de tei ait Deus mercit!
L'anme de tei seit mise en pareïs!
2935
Ki tei ad mort France ad mis en exill.
Si grant dol ai que ne voldreie vivre,
De ma maisnee, ki por mei est ocise!
Ço duinset Deus, le filz sainte Marie,
Einz que jo vienge as maistres porz de Sirie,
2940
L'anme del cors me seit oi departie,
f.53v
Entre les lur aluee e mise,
E ma car fust delez els enfuïe!»
Ploret des oilz, sa blanche bar[b]e tiret.
E dist dux Naimes: «Or ad Carles grant ire.» aoi.
CCXI
2945
– «Sire emperere,» ço dist Gefrei d'Anjou,
«Ceste dolor ne demenez tant fort!
Par tut le camp faites querre les noz,
Que cil d'Espaigne en la bataille unt mort;
En un carne(l)[r] cumandez que hom les port.»
2950
Ço dist li reis: «Sunez en vostre corn!» aoi.
CCXII
Gefreid d'Anjou ad sun greisle sunet.
Franceis descendent, Carles l'ad comandet.
Tuz lur amis qu'il i unt morz truvet,
Ad un carne(l)[r] sempres les unt portet.
2955
Asez i ad evesques e abez,
Munies, canonies, proveires coronez:
Si sunt asols e seignez de part Deu.
Mirre e timoine i firent alumer,
Gaillardement tuz les unt encensez;
2960
A grant honor pois les unt enterrez.
Sis unt laisez: qu'en fereient il el? aoi.
CCXIII
Li emperere fait Rollant costeïr
E Oliver e (e) l'arcevesque Turpin,
Devant sei les ad fait tuz uvrir
2965
E tuz les quers en paile recuillir:
Un blanc sarcou de marbre sunt enz mis;
E puis les cors des barons si unt pris,
En quirs de cerf les seignurs unt mis:
f.54r
Ben sunt lavez de piment e de vin.
2970
Li reis cumandet Tedbalt e Gebuin,
Milun le cunte e Otes le marchis:
«En .III. carettes les guiez [...] tres ben.»
Bien sunt cuverz d'un palie galazin. aoi.
CCXIV
Venir s'en volt li emperere Carles,
2975
Quant de paiens li surdent les enguardes.
De cels devant i vindrent dui messages,
De l'amirail li nuncent la bataille:
«Reis orguillos, nen est fins que t'en alges!
Veiz Baligant, ki apres tei chevalchet:
2980
Granz sunt les oz qu'il ameinet d'Arabe.
Encoi verrum se tu as vasselage.« aoi.
Carles li reis en ad prise sa barbe;
Si li remembret del doel e [del] damage,
Mult fierement tute sa gent reguardez;
2985
Puis si s'escriet a sa voiz grand e halte:
«Barons franceis, as chevals e as armes!» aoi.
CCXV
Li empereres tuz premereins s'adubet:
Isnelement ad vestue sa brunie,
Lacet sun helme, si ad ceinte Joiuse,
2990
Ki pur soleill sa clartet n'en muet;
Pent a sun col un escut de Biterne,
Tient sun espiet, sin fait brandir la hanste,
En Tencendur, sun bon cheval, puis muntet:
Il le cunquist es guez desuz Marsune,
2995
Sin getat mort Malpalin de Nerbone;
Laschet la resne, mult suvent l'esperonet,
f.54v
Fait sun eslais, veant cent mil humes, aoi.
Recleimet Deu e l'apostle de Rome.
CCXVI
Par tut le champ cil de France descendent,
3000
Plus de cent milie s'en adubent ensemble;
Guarnemenz unt ki ben lor atalente[n]t,
Cevals curanz e lur armes mult gentes;
Puis sunt muntez e unt grant science.
S'il troevent oí, bataille quident rendre.
3005
Cil gunfanun sur les helmes lur pendent.
Quant Carles veit si beles cuntenances,
Sin apelat Jozeran de Provence,
Naimon li duc, Antelme de Maience:
«En tels vassals deit hom aveir fiance!
3010
Asez est fols ki entr'els se dem[ent]et.
Si Arrabiz de venir ne se repentent,
La mort Rollant lur quid cherement rendre.»
Respunt dux Neimes: «E Deus le nos cunsente!» aoi.
CCXVII
Carles apelet Rabe[l] e Guinemán.
3015
Ço dist li reis: «Seignurs, jo vos cumant,
Seiez es lius Oliver e Rollant:
L'un port l'espee e l'altre l'olifant,
Si chevalcez el premer chef devant,
Ensembl'od vos .XV. milie de Franc(ei)s,
3020
De bachelers, de noz (...) meillors vaillanz.
Apres icels en avrat altretant,
Sis guierat Gibuins e Guinemans.»
Naimes li dux e li quens Jozerans
Icez eschieles ben les vunt ajustant.
f.55r
S'il troevent oí, bataille i ert mult grant. aoi.
CCXVIII
De Franceis sunt les premeres escheles.
Apres les dous establisent la terce;
En cele sunt li vassal de Baivere,
A .XX. [milie] chevalers la preiserent;
3030
Ja devers els bataille n'ert lessee.
Suz cel n'ad gent que Carles ait plus chere,
Fors cels de France, ki les regnes cunquerent.
Li quens Oger li Daneis, li puinneres,
Les guierat, kar la cumpaigne est fiere. aoi.
CCXIX
3035
Treis escheles ad l'emperere Carles.
Naimes li dux puis establist la quarte
De tels barons qu'asez unt vasselage:
Alemans sunt e si sunt d'Alemaigne;
Vint milie sunt, ço dient tuit li altre.
3040
Ben sunt guarniz e de chevals e d'armes;
Ja por murir ne guerpirunt bataille.
Sis guierat Hermans li dux de Trace.
Einz i murat que cuardise i facet. aoi.
CCXX
Naimes li dux e li quens Jozerans
3045
La quinte eschele unt faite de Normans:
.XX. milie sunt, ço dient tuit li Franc.
Armes unt beles e bons cevals curanz;
Ja pur murir cil n'erent recreanz.
Suz ciel n'ad gent ki plus poissent en camp.
3050
Richard li velz les guierat el camp:
Cil i ferrat de sun espiet trenchant. aoi.
CCXXI
La siste eschele unt faite de Bretuns:
f.55v
.XXX. milie chevalers od els unt.
Icil chevalchent en guise de baron,
3055
Peintes lur hanstes, fermez lur gunfanun.
Le seignur d'els est apelet Oedun:
Icil cumandet le cunte Nevelun,
Tedbald de Reins e le marchis Otun:
«Guiez ma gent, jo vos en faz le dun!» aoi.
CCXXII
3060
Li emperere ad .VI. escheles faites.
Naimes li dux puis establist la sedme
De Peitevins e des barons d'Alverne:
.XL. milie chevalers poeent estre.
Chevals unt bons e les armes mult beles.
3065
Cil sunt par els en un val suz un tertre;
Sis beneïst Carles de sa main destre.
Els guierat Jozerans e Godselmes. aoi.
CCXXIII
E l'oidme eschele ad Naimes establie:
De Flamengs est [e] des barons de Frise.
3070
Chevalers unt plus de .XL. milie;
Ja devers els n'ert bataille guerpie.
Ço dist li reis «Cist ferunt mun servise.»
Entre Rembalt e Hamon de Galice
Les guierunt tut par chevalerie. aoi.
CCXXIV
3075
Entre Naimon e Jozeran le cunte
La noefme eschele unt faite de prozdomes
De Loherengs e de cels de Borgoigne.
.L. milie chevalers unt par cunte,
Helmes laciez e vestues lor bronies;
3080
Espiez unt forz e les hanstes sunt curtes.
f.56r
Si Arrabiz de venir ne demurent,
Cil les ferrunt, s'il a els s'abandunent.
Sis guierat Tierris, li dux d'Argone. aoi.
CCXXV
La disme eschele est des baruns de France:
3085
Cent milie sunt de noz meillors cataignes.
Cors unt gaillarz e fieres cuntenances,
Les chefs fluriz e les barbes unt blanches,
Osbercs vestuz e lur brunies dubleines,
Ceintes espees franceises e d'Espaigne;
3090
Escuz unt genz, de multes cunoisances.
Puis sunt muntez, la bataille demandent;
«Munjoie!» escrient: Od els est Carlemagne.
Gefreid d'Anjou portet l'orieflambe:
Seint Piere fut (...), si aveit num Romaine;
3095
Mais de Munjoie iloec out pris eschange. aoi.
CCXXVI
Li emperere de sun cheval descent;
Sur l'erbe verte se est culchet adenz,
Turnet su[n] vis vers le soleill levant,
Recleimet Deu mult escordusement:
3100
«Veire Paterne, hoi cest jor me defend,
Ki guaresis Jonas tut veirement
De la baleine ki en sun cors l'aveit
E espar(i)gnas le rei de Niniven
E Daniel del merveillus turment
3105
Enz en la fosse des leons o fut enz,
Les .III. enfanz tut en un fou ardant:
La tue amurs me seit hoi en present!
Par ta mercit, se tei plaist, me cunsent
f.56v
Que mun nevold pois[se] venger Rollant!»
3110
Cum ad oret, si se drecet en estant,
Seignat sun chef de la vertut poisant.
Muntet li reis en sun cheval curant;
L'estreu li tindrent Neimes e Jocerans;
Prent sun escut e sun espiet trenchant.
3115
Gent ad le cors, gaillart e ben seant,
Cler le visage e de bon cuntenant.
Puis si chevalchet mult aficheement.
Sunent cil greisle e derere e devant;
Sur tuz les altres bundist li olifant.
3120
Plurent Franceis pur pitet de Rollant.
CCXXVII
Mult gentement li emperere chevalchet:
Desur sa bronie fors ad mise sa barbe.
Pur sue amor altretel funt li altre:
Cent milie Francs en sunt reconoisable.
3125
Passent cez puis e cez roches plus haltes,
E cez parfunz val(ee)s, ces destreit anguisables,
Issent des porz e de la tere guaste,
Devers Espaigne sunt alez en la marche;
En un emplein unt prise lur estage.
3130
A Baligant repairent ses enguardes.
Uns Sulians ki ad dit sun message:
«Veüd avum li orguillus reis Carles.
Fiers sunt si hume, n'unt talent qu'il li faillent.
Adubez vus, sempres avrez bataille!»
3135
Dist Baligant: «Or oi grant vasselage.
Sunez voz graisles, que mi paien le sace[n]t!»
CCXXVIII
f.57r
Par tute l'ost funt lur taburs suner,
E cez buisines e cez greisles mult cler:
Paien descendent pur lur cors aduber.
3140
Li amiralz ne se voelt demurer:
Vest une bronie dunt li pan sunt sasfret,
Lacet sun elme, ki ad or est gemmet,
Puis ceint s'espee al senestre costet.
Par sun orgoill li ad un num truvet:
3145
Par la spee Carlun dunt il oït parler
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ço ert s'enseigne en bataille campel:
Ses chevalers en ad fait escrier.
Pent a sun col un soen grant escut let:
3150
D'or est la bucle e de cristal listet,
La guige en est d'un bon palie roet;
Tient sun espiet, si l'apelet Maltet:
La hanste grosse cume uns tinels;
De sul le fer fust uns mulez trusset.
3155
En sun destrer Baligant est muntet;
L'estreu li tint Marcules d'Ultremer.
La forcheüre ad asez grant li ber,
Graisles les flancs e larges les costez;
Gros ad le piz, belement est mollet,
3160
Lees les espalles e le vis ad mult cler,
Fier le visage, le chef recercelet,
Tant par ert blancs cume flur en estet;
De vasselage est suvent esprovet.
Deus! quel baron, s'oüst chrestientet!
3165
Le cheval brochet, li sancs en ist tuz clers,
f.57v
Fait sun eslais, si tressalt un fosset,
Cinquante pez i poet hom mesurer.
Paien escrient: «Cist deit marches tenser!
N'i ad Franceis, si a lui vient juster,
3170
Voeillet o nun, n'i perdet sun edet.
Carles est fols que ne s'en est alet.» aoi.
CCXXIX
Li amiralz ben resemblet barun.
Blanche ad la barbe ensement cume flur,
E de sa lei mult par est saives hom,
3175
E en bataille est fiers e orgoillus.
Ses filz Malpramis mult est chevalerus:
Granz est e forz e trait as anceisurs.
Dist a sun perre: «Sire, car cevalchum!
Mult me merveill se ja verrum Carlun.»
3180
Dist Baligant: «Oïl, car mult est proz.
En plusurs gestes de lui sunt granz honurs.
Il n'en at mie de Rollant sun nevold:
N'avrat vertut ques tienget cuntre nus.» aoi.
CCXXX
– «Bels filz Malpramis,» ço li dist Baligant,
3185
«Li altrer fut ocis le bon vassal Rollant
E Oliver, li proz e li vaillanz,
Li .XII. per qui Carles amat tant,
De cels de France .XX. milie cumbatanz.
Trestuz les altres ne pris jo mie un guant.
3190
Li empereres repairet veirement,
S'il m'at nunciet mes mes, li Sulians,
.X. escheles en unt faites mult granz.
Cil est mult proz ki sunet l'olifant,
f.58r
D'un graisle cler racatet ses cumpaignz;
3195
E si cevalcent el premer chef devant,
Ensembl'od els .XV. milie de Francs,
De bachelers que Carles cleimet enfanz.
Apres icels en i ad ben altretanz:
Cil i ferrunt mult orgoillusement.»
3200
Dist Malpramis: «Le colp vos en demant.» aoi.
CCXXXI
– «Filz Malpramis,» Baligant li ad dit,
«Jo vos otri quanque m'avez ci quis.
Cuntre Franceis sempres irez ferir;
Si i merrez Torleu, le rei persis,
3205
E Dapamort, un altre rei leutiz.
Le grant orgoill se ja puez matir,
Jo vos durrai un pan de mun païs
Des Cheriant entresqu'en Val Marchis.»
Cil respunt: «Sire, vostre mercit!»
3210
Passet avant, le dun en requeillit,
Ço est de la tere ki fut al rei Flurit,
A itel ore unches puis ne la vit,
Ne il n'en fut ne vestut ne saisit.
CCXXXII
Li amiraill chevalchet par cez oz.
3215
Sis filz le siut, ki mult ad grant le cors.
Li reis Torleus e li reis Dapamort
.XXX. escheles establissent mult tost:
Chevalers unt a merveillus esforz;
En la menur .L. milie en out.
3220
La premere est de cels de Butentrot,
E l'altre apres de Micenes as chefs gros;
f.58v
Sur les eschines qu'il unt en mi les dos
Cil sunt seiet ensement cume porc. aoi.
E la t(er)erce est de Nubles e de Blos,
3225
E la quarte est de Bruns e d'Esclavoz,
E la quinte est de Sorbres e de Sorz,
E la siste est d'Ermines e de Mors,
E la sedme est de cels de Jericho,
E l'oitme est de Nigres e la noefme de Gros,
3230
E la disme est de Balide la fort:
Ço est une gent ki unches ben ne volt. aoi.
Li amiralz en juret quanqu'il poet
De Mahumet les vertuz e le cors:
«Karles de France chevalchet cume fols.
3235
Bataille i ert, se il ne s'en destolt;
Jamais n'avrat el chef corone d'or.»
CCXXXIII
Dis escheles establisent apres.
La premere est des Canelius les laiz,
De Val Fuit sun venuz en traver.
3240
L'altre est de Turcs e la terce de Pers,
E la quarte est de Pinceneis e de Pers,
E la quinte est de Solteras e d'Avers,
E la siste est d'Ormaleus e d'Eugiez,
E la sedme est de la gent Samuel,
3245
L'oidme est de Bruise e la noefme de Clavers,
E la disme est d'Occian le desert:
Ço est une gent ki Damnedeu ne sert;
De plus feluns n'orrez parler jamais.
Durs unt les quirs ensement cume fer:
f.59r
Pur ço n'unt soign de elme ne d'osberc;
En la bataille sunt felun e engres. aoi.
CCXXXIV
Li amiralz .X. escheles ad justedes:
La premere est des jaianz de Malprese,
L'altre est de Hums e la terce de Hungres,
3255
E la quarte est de Baldise la lunge
E la quinte est de cels de Val Penuse
E la siste est de [...] Maruse,
E la sedme est de Leus e d'Astrimónies;
L'oidme est d'Argoilles e la noefme de Clarbone,
3260
E la disme est des barbez de Fronde:
Ço est une gent ki Deu nen amat unkes.
Geste Francor .XXX. escheles i numbrent.
Granz sunt les oz u cez buisines sunent.
Paien chevalchent en guise de produme. aoi.
CCXXXV
3265
Li amiralz mult par est riches hoem.
Dedavant sei fait porter sun dragon
E l'estandart Tervagan e Mahum
E un ymagene Apolin le felun.
Des Canelius chevalchent envirun.
3270
Mult haltement escrient un sermun:
«Ki par noz Deus voelt aveir guarison,
Sis prit e servet par grant afflictiun!»
Paien i baissent lur chefs e lur mentun;
Lor helmes clers i suzclinent enbrunc.
3275
Dient F[r]anceis: «Sempres murrez, glutun!
De vos seit hoi male confusiun!
Li nostre Deu, guarantisez Carlun!
f.59v
Ceste bataille seit ju(ic)get en sun num!» aoi.
CCXXXVI
Li amiralz est mult de grant saveir;
3280
A sei apelet sis filz e les dous reis:
«Seignurs barons, devant chevalchereiz,
Mes escheles tutes les guiereiz;
Mais des meillors voeill jo retenir treis:
L'un ert de Turcs e l'altre d'Ormaleis,
3285
E la terce est des jaianz de Malpreis.
Cil d'Ociant ierent e[n]sembl'ot mei,
Si justerunt a Charles e a Franceis.
Li emperere, s'il se cumbat od mei,
Desur le buc la teste perdre en deit.
3290
Trestut seit fiz, n'i avrat altre dreit.» aoi.
CCXXXVII
Granz sunt les oz e les escheles beles;
Entr'els nen at ne pui ne val ne tertre,
Selve ne bois; asconse n'i poet estre;
Ben s'entreveient en mi la pleine tere.
3295
Dist Baligant: «La meie gent averse,
Car chevalchez pur la bataille quere!»
L'enseigne portet Amborres d'Oluferne.
Paien escrient, «Precieuse» l'apelent.
Dient Franceis: «De vos seit hoi grant perte!»
3300
Mult haltement: «Munjoie!» renuvelent.
Li emperere i fait suner ses greisles,
E l'olifan, ki tres(tu)tuz les esclairet.
Dient paien: «La gent Ca[r]lun est bele.
Bataille avrum e aduree e pesme.» aoi.
CCXXXVIII
3305
Grant est la plaigne e large la cuntree.
f.60r
Luisent cil elme as perres d'or gemmees,
E cez escuz e cez bronies safrees,
E cez espiez, cez enseignes fermees.
Sunent cez greisles, les voiz en sunt mult cleres;
3310
De l'olifan haltes sunt les menees.
Li amiralz en apelet sun frere,
Ço est Canabeus, li reis de Floredee:
Cil tint la terre entresqu'en Val Sevree.
Les escheles Charlun li ad mustrees:
3315
«Veez l'orgoil de France la loee!
Mult fierement chevalchet li emperere;
Il est darere od cele gent barbee.
Desur lur bronies lur barbes unt getees,
Altresi blanches cume neif sur gelee.
3320
Cil i ferrunt de lances e d'espees,
Bataille avrum e forte e aduree:
Unkes nuls hom ne vit tel ajustee.»
Plus qu'om ne lancet une verge pelee,
Baligant ad ses cumpaignes trespassees.
3325
Une raisun lur ad dit e mustree:
«Venez, paien, kar jo(n) irai en l'estree.»
De sun espiet la hanste en ad branlee;
Envers Karlun la mure en ad turnee. aoi.
CCXXXIX
Carles li magnes, cum il vit l'amiraill,
3330
E le dragon, l'enseigne e l'estandart,
De cels d'Arabe si grant force i par (ar)ad,
De la cuntree unt purprises les parz,
Ne mes que tant (scue)[cume] l'empereres en ad,
f.60v
Li reis de France s'en escriet mult halt:
3335
«Barons franceis, vos estes bons vassals.
Tantes batailles avez faites en camps!
Veez paien: felun sunt e cuart,
Tutes lor leis un dener ne lur valt.
S'il unt grant gent, d'iço, seignurs, qui calt?
3340
Ki errer voelt, a mei venir s'en alt!»
Des esperons puis brochet le cheval,
E Tencendor li (a)ad fait .IIII. salz.
Dient Franceis: «Icist reis est vassals!
Chevalchez, bers! Nul de nus ne vus falt.»
CCXL
3345
Clers fut li jurz e li soleilz luisanz.
Les oz sunt beles e les cumpaignes granz.
Justees sunt les escheles devant.
Li quens Rabels e li quens Guinemans
Lascent les resnes a lor cevals curanz,
3350
Brochent a eit; dunc laisent curre Francs:
Si vunt ferir de lur espiez trenchanz. aoi.
CCXLI
Li quens Rabels est chevaler hardiz,
Le cheval brochet des esperuns d'or fin,
Si vait ferir Torleu, le rei persis,
3355
N'escut ne bronie ne pout sun colp tenir:
L'espiet a or li ad enz el cors mis,
Que mort l'abat sur un boissun petit.
Dient F[r]anceis: «Damnedeus nos aït!»
Carles ad dreit, ne li devom faillir.» aoi.
CCXLII
3360
E Guineman justet a un rei leutice.
Tute li freint la targe, ki est flurie;
f.61r
Apres li ad la bronie descunfite;
Tute l'enseigne li ad enz el cors mise,
Que mort l'abat, ki qu'en plurt u kin riet.
3365
A icest colp cil de France s'esc(ri)rient:
«Ferez, baron, ne vos targez mie!
Carles ad dreit vers la gent [pa]iesnie;
Deus nus ad mis al plus verai juïse.» aoi.
CCXLIII
Malpramis siet sur un cheval tut blanc;
3370
Cunduit sun cors en la presse des Francs.
De (u) uns es altres granz colps i vait ferant,
L'un mort sur l'altre suvent vait trescevant.
Tut premereins s'escriet Baligant:
«Li mien baron, nurrit vos ai lung tens.
3375
Veez mun fils, Carlun le vait querant,
A ses armes tanz barons calunjant:
Meillor vassal de lui ja ne demant.
Succurez le a voz espiez trenchant!»
A icest mot paien venent avant,
3380
Durs colps i fierent, mult est li caples granz.
La bataille est merveilluse e pesant:
Ne fut si fort enceis ne puis cel tens. aoi.
CCXLIV
Granz sunt les oz e les cumpaignes fieres,
Justees sunt trestutes les escheles,
3385
E li paien merveillusement fierent.
Deus! tantes hanstes i ad par mi brisees,
Escuz fruisez e bronies desmaillees!
La veïsez la tere si junchee:
L'erbe del camp, ki est verte e delgee
3390
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
f.61v
Li amiralz recleime sa maisnee:
«Ferez, baron, sur la gent chrestiene!»
La bataille est mult dure e afichee;
Unc einz ne puis ne fut si fort ajustee;
3395
Josqu'a la [nuit] nen ert fins otriee. aoi.
CCXLV
Li amiralz la sue gent apelet:
«Ferez, paien: por el venud n'i estes!
Jo vos durrai muillers gentes e beles,
Si vos durai feus e honors e teres.»
3400
Paien respundent: «Nus le devuns ben fere.»
A colps pleners de lor espiez i perdent:
Plus de cent milie espees i unt traites.
Ais vos le caple e dulurus e pesmes;
Bataille veit cil ki entr'els volt estre. aoi.
CCXLVI
3405
Li emperere recleimet ses Franceis:
«Seignors barons, jo vos aim, si vos crei.
Tantes batailles avez faites pur mei,
Regnes cunquis e desordenet reis!
Ben le conuis que gueredun vos en dei
3410
E de mun cors, de terres e d'aveir.
Vengez voz fi[l]z, voz freres e voz heirs,
Qu'en Rencesvals furent morz l'altre seir!
Ja savez vos cuntre paiens ai dreit.»
Respondent Franc: «Sire, vos dites veir.»
3415
Itels .XX. miliers en ad od sei,
Cumunement l'en prametent lor feiz,
Ne li faldrunt pur mort ne pur destreit.
N'en i ad cel sa lance n'i empleit;
f.62r
De lur espees i fierent demaneis.
3420
La bataille est de merveillus destreit. aoi.
CCXLVII
E Malpramis parmi le camp chevalchet;
De cels de France i fait mult grant damage.
Naimes li dux fierement le reguardet,
Vait le ferir cum hume vertudable.
3425
De sun escut li freint la pene halte,
De sun osberc les dous pans li desaffret;
El cors li met tute l'enseigne jalne,
Que mort [l'abat] entre .VII.C. des altres.
CCXLVIII
Reis Canabeus, le frere a l'amiraill,
3430
Des esporuns ben brochot sun cheval;
Trait ad l'espee, le punt est de cristal,
Si fiert Naimun en l'elme principal:
L'une meitiet l'en fruissed d'une part,
Al brant d'acer l'en trenchet .V. des laz,
3435
Li capelers un dener ne li valt;
Trenchet la coife entresque a la char,
Jus a la tere une piece en abat.
Granz fut li colps, li dux en estonat,
Sempres caïst, se Deus ne li aidast.
3440
De sun destrer le col en enbraçat.
Se li paiens une feiz recuvrast,
Sempres fust mort li nobilies vassal.
Carles de France i vint, kil succurat. aoi.
CCXLIX
Naimes li dux tant par est anguissables,
3445
E li paiens de ferir mult le hastet.
Carles li dist: «Culvert, mar le baillastes!»
f.62v
Vait le ferir par sun grant vasselage:
L'escut li freint, cuntre le coer li quasset,
De sun osberc li desrumpt la ventaille,
3450
Que mort l'abat: la sele en remeint guaste.
Laisses CCL - CCXCI
CCL
Mult ad grant doel Carlemagnes li reis,
Quant Naimun veit nafret devant sei,
Sur l'erbe verte le sanc tut cler caeir.
Li empereres li ad dit a cunseill:
3455
«Bel sire Naimes, kar chevalcez od mei!
Morz est li gluz ki en destreit vus teneit;
El cors li mis mun espiet une feiz.»
Respunt li dux: «Sire, jo vos en crei.
Se jo vif alques, mult grant prod i avreiz.»
3460
Puis sunt justez par amur e par feid,
Ensembl'od els tels .XX. milie Franceis.
N'i ad celoi que n'i fierge o n'i capleit. aoi.
CCLI
Li amiralz chevalchet par le camp,
Si vait ferir le cunte Guneman,
3465
Cuntre le coer li fruisset l'escut blanc,
De sun osberc li derumpit les pans,
Les dous costez li deseivret des flancs,
Que mort l'abat de sun cheval curant.
Puis ad ocis Gebuin e Lorain,
3470
Richard le Veill, li sire des Normans.
Paien escrient: «Preciuse est vaillant!
Ferez, baron, nus i avom guarant!» aoi.
CCLII
Ki puis veist li chevaler d'Arabe,
Cels d'Occiant e d'Argoillie e de Bascle!
f.63r
De lur espiez ben i fierent e caplent;
E li Franceis n'unt talent que s'en algent;
Asez i moerent e des uns e des altres.
Entresqu'al vespre est mult fort la bataille,
Des francs barons i ad mult gran damage.
3480
Doel i avrat, enceis qu'ele departed. aoi.
CCLIII
Mult ben i fierent Franceis e Arrabit;
Fruissent cil hanste se cil espiez furbit.
Ki dunc veïst cez escuz si malmis,
Cez blancs osbercs ki dunc oïst fremir,
3485
E cez escuz sur cez helmes cruisir,
Cez chevalers ki dunc veïst caïr
E humes braire, contre tere murir,
De grant dulor li poüst suvenir!
Ceste bataille est mult fort a suffrir.
3490
Li amiralz recleimet Apolin
E Tervagan e Mahumet altresi:
«Mi Damnedeu, jo vos ai mult servit!
Tutes tes ymagenes ferai d'or fin.» aoi.
. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .
3495
As li devant un soen drut, Gemalfin.
Males nuveles li aportet e dit:
«Baligant, sire, mal este oi baillit.
Perdut avez Malpramis vostre fils,
E Canabeus, vostre frere, est ocis.
3500
A dous Franceis belement en avint.
Li empereres en est l'uns, ço m'est vis:
Granz ad le cors, ben resenblet marchis;
Blanc[he] ad la barbe cume flur en avrill.»
f.63v
Li amiralz en ad le helme enclin,
3505
E en apres sin enbrunket sun vis:
Si grant doel ad sempres quiad murir.
Sin apelat Jangleu l'Ultremarin.
CCLIV
Dist l'amiraill: «Jangleu, venez avant!
Vos estes proz e vostre saveir est grant;
3510
Vostre conseill ai oc evud tuz tens.
Que vos en semblet d'Arrabiz e de Francs?
Avrum nos la victorie del champ?»
E cil respunt: «Morz estes, Baligant!
Ja vostre deu ne vos erent guarant.
3515
Carles est fiers e si hume vaillant;
Unc ne vi gent ki si fust cumbatant.
Mais reclamez les barons d'Occiant,
Turcs e Enfruns, Arabiz e Jaianz.
Ço que estre en deit, ne l'alez demurant.»
CCLV
3520
Li amiraill ad sa barbe fors mise,
Altresi blanche cume flur en espine:
Cument qu'il seit, ne s'i voelt celer mie.
Met a sa buche une clere buisine,
Sunet la cler, que si paien l'oïrent;
3525
Par tut le camp ses cumpaignes ralient.
Cil d'Ociant i braient e henissent,
Arguille si cume chen i glatissent;
Requerent Franc par si grant estultie,
El plus espes ses rumpent e partissent:
3530
A icest colp en jetent mort .VII. milie.
CCLVI
Li quens Oger cuardise n'out unkes;
f.64r
Meillor vassal de lui ne vestit bronie.
Quant de Franceis les escheles vit rumpre,
Si apelat Tierri, le duc d'Argone,
3535
Gefrei d'Anjou e Jozeran le cunte,
Mult fierement Carles en araisunet:
«Veez paien cum ocient voz humes!
Ja Deu ne placet qu'el chef portez corone,
S'or n'i ferez pur venger vostre hunte.»
3540
N'i ad icel ki un sul mot respundet:
Brochent ad eit, lor cevals laissent cure,
Vunt les ferir la o il les encuntrent.
CCLVII
Mult ben i fiert Carlemagnes li reis, aoi.
Naimes li dux e Oger li Daneis,
3545
Geifreid d'Anjou ki l'enseigne teneit.
Mult par est proz danz Ogers li Daneis!
Puint le ceval, laisset curre ad espleit,
Si vait ferir celui ki le dragun teneit,
Qu'Ambure cravente en la place devant sei
3550
E le dragon e l'enseigne le rei.
Baligant veit sun gunfanun cadeir
E l'estandart Mahumet remaneir.
Li amiralz alques s'en aperceit
Que il ad tort e Carlemagnes dreit.
3555
Paien d'Arabe s'en turnent plus .C.
Li emperere recleimet ses parenz:
«Dites, baron, por Deu, si m'aidereiz.»
Respundent Francs: «Mar le demandereiz.
Trestut seit fel ki n'i fierget a espleit!» aoi.
CCLVIII
f.64v
Passet li jurz, si turnet a la vespree.
Franc e paien i fierent des espees.
Cil sunt vassal ki les oz ajusterent.
Lor enseignes n'i unt mie ubliees:
Li amira[l]z «Preciuse!» ad criee,
3565
Carles «Munjoie!», l'enseigne renumee.
L'un conuist l'altre as haltes voiz e as cleres;
En mi le camp amdui s'entr'encuntrerent:
Si se vunt ferir, granz colps s'entredunerent
De lor espiez en lor targes roees.
3570
Fraites les unt desuz cez bucles lees.
De lor osbercs les pans en desevrerent:
Dedenz cez cors mie ne s'adeserent:
Rumpent cez cengles e cez seles verserent,
Cheent li rei, a tere se turbecherent,
3575
Isnelement sur lor piez releverent.
Mult vassalment unt traites les espees.
Ceste bataille n'en ert mais destornee:
Seinz hume mort ne poet estre achevee. aoi.
CCLIX
Mult est vassal Carles de France dulce;
3580
Li amiralt, il nel crent ne ne dutet.
Cez lor espees tutes nues i mustrent,
Sur cez escuz mult granz colps s'entredunent,
Trenchent les quirs e cez fuz ki sunt dubles;
Cheent li clou, si pecerent les bucles;
35
Puis fierent il nud a nud sur les bronies;
Des helmes clers li fous en escarbunet.
Ceste bataille ne poet remaneir unkes,
f.65r
Josque li uns sun tort i reconuisset. aoi.
CCLX
Dist l'amiraill: «Carles, kar te purpenses,
3590
Si pren cunseill que vers mei te repentes!
Mort as (...) mun filz, par le men esciente;
A mult grant tort mun païs me calenges;
Deven mes hom, en fedeltet voeill rendre;
Ven mei servir d'ici qu'en Oriente!»
3595
Carles respunt: «Mult grant viltet me sembl[e];
Pais ne amor ne dei a paien rendre.
Receif la lei que Deus nos apresentet,
Christientet, e pui te amerai sempres;
Puis serf e crei le rei omnipotente!»
3600
Dist Baligant: «Malvais sermun cumences!»
Puis vunt ferir des espees qu'unt ceintes. aoi.
CCLXI
Li amiralz est mult de grant vertut.
Fier Carlemagne sur l'elme d'acer brun,
Desur la teste li ad frait e fendut;
3605
Met li l'espee sur les chevels menuz,
Prent de la carn grant pleine palme e plus:
Iloec endreit remeint li os tut nut.
Carles cancelet, por poi qu'il n'est caüt;
Mais Deus ne volt qu'il seit mort ne vencut.
3610
Seint Gabriel est repairet a lui,
Si li demande: «Reis magnes, que fais tu?»
CCLXII
Quant Carles oït la seinte voiz de l'angle,
N'en ad poür ne de murir dutance;
Repairet loi vigur e remembrance.
3615
Fiert l'amiraill de l'espee de France,
L'elme li freint o li gemme reflambent,
f.65v
[T]renchet la teste pur la cervele espandre
[E] tut le vis tresqu'en la barbe blanche,
Que mort l'abat senz nule recuvrance.
3620
«Munjoie!» escriet pur la reconuisance.
A icest mot venuz i est dux Neimes:
Prent Tencendur, muntet i est li reis magnes.
Paien s'en turnent, ne volt Deus qu'il i remainent.
Or sunt Franceis a icels qu'il demandent.
CCLXIII
3625
Paien s'en fuient, cum Damnesdeus le volt.
Encalcent Francs e l'emperere avoec.
Ço dist li reis: «Seignurs, vengez voz doels,
Si esclargiez voz talenz e voz coers,
Kar hoi matin vos vi plurer des oilz.»
3630
Respondent Franc: «Sire, çó nus estoet.»
Cascuns i fiert tanz granz colps cum il poet.
Poi s'en estoerstrent d'icels ki sunt iloec.
CCLXIV
Granz est li calz, si se levet la puldre.
Paien s'en fuient e Franceis les anguissent;
3635
Li enchalz duret d'ici qu'en Sarraguce.
En sum sa tur muntee est Bramidonie,
Ensembl'od li si clerc e si canonie
De false lei, que Deus nen amat unkes:
Ordres nen unt ne en lor chefs corones.
3640
Quant ele vit Arrabiz si cunfundre,
A halte voiz s'escrie: «Aiez nos, Mahum!
E! gentilz reis, ja sunt vencuz noz humes,
Li amiralz ocis a si grant hunte!»
Quant l'ot Marsilie, vers sa pareit se turnet,
3645
Pluret des oilz, tute sa chere enbrunchet:
f.66r
Morz est de doel. Si cum pecchet l'encumbret,
L'anme de lui as vifs diables dunet. aoi.
CCLXV
Paien sunt morz, alquant cunfundue,
E Carles ad sa bataille vencue.
3650
De Sarraguce ad la porte abatue:
Or set il ben que n'est mais defendue.
Prent la citet, od sa gent i est venue;
Par poestet icele noit i jurent.
Fiers est li reis a la barbe canue,
3655
E Bramidonie les turs li ad rendues:
Les dis sunt grandes, les cinquante menues.
Mult ben espleitet qui Damnesdeus aiuet.
CCLXVI
Passet li jurz, la noit est aserie;
Clers est la lune e les esteiles flambient.
3660
Li emperere ad Sarraguce prise.
A mil Franceis funt ben cercer la vile,
Les sinagoges e les mahumeries;
A mailz de fer e a cuignees qu'ils tindrent,
Fruissent les ymagenes e trestutes les ydeles:
3665
N'i remeindrat ne sorz ne falserie.
Li reis creit en Deu, faire voelt sun servise;
E si evesque les eves beneïssent,
Meinent paien ent[r]esqu'al baptisterie:
S'or i ad cel qui Carles cuntredie voillet,
3670
Il le fait pendre o ardeir ou ocire.
Baptizet sunt asez plus de .C. milie
Veir chrestien, ne mais sul la reïne.
f.66v
En France dulce iert menee caitive:
Ço voelt li reis par amur cunvertisset.
CCLXVII
3675
Passet la noit, si apert le cler jor.
De Sarraguce Carles guarnist les turs;
Mil chevalers i laissat puigneürs;
Guardent la vile a oes l'empereor.
Mandet li reis e si hume trestuz
3680
E Bramidonie, qu'il meinet en sa prisun;
Mais n'ad talent que li facet se bien nun.
Repairez sunt a joie e a baldur.
Passent Nerbone par force e par vigur;
Vint a Burdeles la citet de...
3685
Desur l'alter seint Severin le baron
Met l'oliphan plein d'or e de manguns:
Li pelerin le veient ki la vunt.
Passet Girunde a mult granz nefs qu'i sunt;
Entresque a Blaive ad cunduit sun nevold
3690
E Oliver, sun nobilie cumpaignun,
E l'arcevesque, ki fut sages e proz.
En blancs sarcous fait metre les seignurs
A Seint Romain; la gisent li baron.
Francs les cumandent a Deu e a ses nuns.
3695
Carles cevalchet e les vals e les munz;
Entresqu'a Ais ne volt prendre sujurn.
Tant chevalchat qu'il descent al perrun.
Cume il est en sun paleis halçur,
Par ses messages mandet ses jugeors:
3700
Baivers e Saisnes, Loherencs e Frisuns;
f.67r
Alemans mandet, si mandet Borguignuns,
E Peitevins e Normans e Bretuns,
De cels de France des plus saives qui sunt.
Des ore cumencet le plait de Guenelun.
CCLXVIII
3705
Li empereres est repairet d'Espaigne,
E vient a Ais, al meillor sied de France;
Muntet el palais, est venut en la sale.
As li Alde venue, une bele damisele.
Ço dist al rei: «O est Rollant le catanie,
3710
Ki me jurat cume sa per a prendre?»
Carles en ad e dulor e pesance,
Pluret des oilz, tiret sa barbe blance:
«Soer, cher'amie, de hume mort me demandes.
Jo t'en durai mult esforcet eschange:
3715
Ço est Loewis, mielz ne sai a parler;
Il est mes filz e si tendrat mes marches.»
Alde respunt: «Cest mot mei est estrange.
Ne place Deu ne ses seinz ne ses angles
Apres Rollant que jo vive remaigne!»
3720
Pert la culor, chet as piez Carlemagne,
Sempres est morte, Deus ait mercit de l'anme!
Franceis barons en plurent e si la pleignent.
CCLXIX
Alde la bel[e] est a sa fin alee.
Quidet li reis que el[le] se seit pasmee;
3725
Pited en ad, sin pluret l'emperere;
Prent la as mains, si l'en ad relevee.
Desur l(es)[']espalles ad la teste clinee.
Quant Carles veit que morte l'ad truvee,
f.67v
Quatre cuntesses sempres i ad mandees.
3730
A un muster de nuneins est portee;
La noit la guaitent entresqu'a l 'ajurnee.
Lunc un alter belement l'enterrerent.
Mult grant honor i ad li reis dunee, aoi.
CCLXX
Li emperere est repairet ad Ais.
3735
Guenes li fels, en caeines de fer,
En la citet est devant le paleis.
A un estache l'unt atachet cil serf,
Les mains li lient a curreies de cerf;
Tres ben le batent a fuz e a jamelz:
3740
N'ad deservit que altre ben i ait;
A grant dulur iloec atent sun plait.
CCLXXI
Il est escrit en l'anciene geste
Que Carles mandet humes de plusurs teres.
Asemblez sunt ad Ais, a la capele.
3745
Halz est li jurz, mult par est grande la feste,
Dient alquanz del baron seint Silvestre.
Des ore cumencet le plait e les noveles
De Guenelun, ki traïsun ad faite.
Li emperere devant sei l'ad fait traire. aoi.
CCLXXII
3750
«Seignors barons» dist Carlemagnes li reis,
«De Guenelun car me jugez le dreit!
Il fut en l'ost tresque en Espaigne od mei,
Si me tolit .XX. milie de mes Franceis
E mun nevold, que ja mais ne verreiz,
3755
E Oliver, li proz e li curteis;
Les .XII. pers ad traït por aveir.»
f.68r
Dist Guenelon: «Fel seie se jol ceil!
Rollant me forfist en or et en aveir,
Pur que jo quis sa mort e sun destreit;
3760
Mais traïsun nule n'en i otrei.»
Respundent Franc: «Ore en tendrum cunseill.»
CCLXXIII
Devant le rei la s'estut Guenelun:
Cors ad gaillard, el vis gente color;
S'il fust leials, ben resemblast barun.
3765
Veit cels de France e tuz les jugeürs,
De ses parenz .XXX. ki od lui sunt;
Puis s'escriat haltement, a grant voeiz:
«Por amor Deu, car m'entendez, barons!
Seignors, jo fui en l'ost avoec l'empereür,
3770
Serveie le par feid e par amur.
Rollant sis nies me coillit en haür,
Si me jugat a mort e a dulur.
Message fui al rei Marsiliun;
Par mun saveir vinc jo a guarisun.
3775
Jo desfiai Rollant le poigneor
E Oliver e tuiz lur cumpaignun;
Carles l'oïd e si nobilie baron.
Venget m'en sui, mais n'i ad traïsun.»
Respundent Francs: «A conseill en irums.»
CCLXXIV
3780
Quant Guenes veit que ses granz plaiz cumencet,
De ses parenz ensemble [od li] i out trente.
Un en i ad a qui li altre entendent:
Ço est Pinabel del castel de Sorence;
Ben set parler e dreite raisun rendre;
f.68v
Vassals est bons por ses armes defendre, aoi.
Ço li dist Guenes: «En vos [...] ami...
Getez mei hoi de mort e de calunje!»
Dist Pinabel: «Vos serez guarit sempres.
N'i ad Frances ki vos juget a pendre,
3790
U l'emper[er]e les noz dous cors en asemblet,
Al b(a)rant d'acer que jo ne l'en desmente.»
Guenes li quens a ses piez se presente.
CCLXXV
Bavier e Saisnes sunt alet a conseill,
E Peitevin e Norman e Franceis;
3795
Asez i ad Alemans e tTiedeis.
Icels d'Alverne(ne) i sunt li plus curteis;
Pur Pinabel se cuntienent plus quei.
Dist l'un a l'altre: «Bien fait a remaneir!
Laisum le plait e si preium le rei
3800
Que Guenelun cleimt quite ceste feiz,
Puis si li servet par amur e par feid.
Morz est Rollant, ja mais nel revereiz;
N'ert recuvret por ór ne por aveir:
Mult sereit fols ki [l]a(a) se cumbatreit.»
3805
N'en i ad celoi nel graant e otreit,
Fors sul Tierri, le frere(re) dam Geifreit. aoi.
CCLXXVI
A Charlemagne repairent si barun;
Dient al rei: «Sire, nus vos prium
Que clamez quite le cunte Guenelun,
3810
Puis si vos servet par feid e par amor.
Vivre le laisez, car mult est gentilz hoem.
Ja por murir n'en ert veüd gerun,
f.69r
Ne por aveir ja nel recuverum.»
Ço dist li reis: «Vos estes mi felun!» aoi.
CCLXXVII
3815
Quant Carles veit que tuz li sunt faillid,
Mult l'enbrunchit e la chere e le vis;
Al doel qu'il ad si se cleimet caitifs.
Ais li devant uns chevalers, [Tierris],
Frere Gefrei a un duc angevin.
3820
Heingre out le cors e graisle e eschewid,
Neirs les chevels e alques bruns [le vis];
N'est gueres granz ne trop nen est petiz.
Curteisement a l'emperere ad dit:
«Bels sire reis, ne vos dementez si.
3825
Ja savez vos, que mult vos ai servit;
Par anceisurs dei jo tel plait tenir.
Que que Rollant a Guenelun forsfesist,
Vostre servise l'en doüst bien guarir!
Guenes est fels d'iço qu'il le traït;
3830
Vers vos s'en est parjurez e malmis.
Pur ço le juz jo a prendre e a murir
E sun cors metre...
Si cume fel ki felonie fist.
Se or ad parent ki m'en voeille desmentir,
3835
A ceste espee, que jo ai ceinte ici,
Mun jugement voel sempres guarantir.»
Respundent Franc: «Or avez vos ben dit.»
CCLXXVIII
Devant lu rei est venuz Pinabel,
Granz est e forz e vassals e isnel:
3840
Qu'il fiert a colp, de sun tens n'i ad mais.
E dist al rei: «Sire, vostre est li plaiz:
f.69v
Car cumandez, que tel noise n'i ait!
Ci vei Tierri, ki jugement ad fait.
Jo si li fals, od lui m'en cumbatrai.»
3845
Met li el poign de cerf le destre guant.
Dist li emper[er]es: «Bons pleges en demant.»
.XXX. parenz l'i plevissent leial.
Ço dist li reis: «E jol vos recr[e]rai.»
Fait cels guarder tresque li dreiz en serat. aoi.
CCLXXIX
3850
Quant veit Tierri qu'or en ert la bataille,
Sun destre guant en ad presentet Carle.
Li emperere l'i recreit par hostage,
Puis fait porter .IIII. bancs en la place;
La vunt sedeir cil kis deivent cumbatre.
3855
Ben sunt malez, par jugement des altres,
Sil purparlat Oger de Denemarche;
E puis demandent lur chevals e lur armes.
CCLXXX
Puis que il sunt a bataille jugez, aoi.
Ben sunt cunfes e asols e seignez:
3860
Oent lur messes e sunt acuminiez;
Mult granz offrendes metent par cez musters.
Devant Carlun andui sunt repairez:
Lur esperuns unt en lor piez calcez,
Vestent osberc blancs e forz e legers,
3865
Lur helmes clers unt fermez en lor chefs,
Ceinent espees enheldees d'or mier,
En lur cols pendent lur escuz de quarters,
En lur puinz destres unt lur trenchanz espiez;
Puis sunt muntez en lur curanz destrers.
f.70r
Idunc plurerent .C. milie chevalers,
Qui pur Rollant de Tierri unt pitiet.
Deus set asez cument la fins en ert.
CCLXXXI
Dedesuz Ais est la pree mult large:
Des dous baruns justee est la bataille.
3875
Cil sunt produme e de grant vasselage
E lur chevals sunt curanz e aates.
Brochent les bien, tutes les resnes lasquent;
Par grant vertut vait ferir l'uns li altre;
Tuz lur escuz i fruissent e esquassent,
3880
Lur osbercs rumpent e lur cengles depiecent,
Les alves turnent, les seles cheent a tere.
.C. mil humes i plurent, kis esguardent.
CCLXXXII
A tere sunt ambdui li chevaler, aoi.
Isnelement se drecent sur lur piez.
3885
Pinabels est forz e isnels e legers.
Li uns requiert l'altre, n'unt mie des destrers.
De cez espees enheldees d'or mer,
Fierent e caplent sur cez helmes d'acer;
Granz sunt les colps, as helmes detrencher.
3890
Mult se dementent cil Franceis chevaler.
«E! Deus,» dist Carles, «le dreit en esclargiez!»
CCLXXXIII
Dist Pinabel: «Tierri, car te recreiz!
Tes hom serai par amur e par feid,
A tun plaisir te durrai mun aveir,
3895
Mais Guenelun fai acorder al rei!»
Respont Tierri: «Ja n'en tendrai cunseill.
Tut seie fel se jo mie l'otrei!
f.70v
Deus facet hoi entre nus dous le dreit!» aoi.
CCLXXXIV
Ço dist Tierri: «Pinabel mult ies ber,
3900
Granz ies e forz e tis cors ben mollez;
De vasselage te conoissent ti per;
Ceste bataille, car la laisses ester!
A Carlemagne te ferai acorder;
De Guenelun justise ert faite tel,
3905
Jamais n'ert jur que il n'en seit parlet.»
Dist Pinabel: «Ne placet Damnedeu!
Sustenir voeill trestut mun parentet;
N'en recrerrai pur nul hume mortel;
Mielz voeill murir que il me seit reprovet.»
3910
De lur espees cumencent a capler
Desur cez helmes, ki sunt a or gemez;
Cuntre le ciel en volet li fous tuz clers.
Il ne poet estre qu'il seient desevrez:
Seinz hume mort ne poet estre afinet. aoi.
CCLXXXV
3915
Mult par est proz Pinabel de Sorence;
Si fiert Tierri sur l'elme de Provence:
Salt en li fous, que l'erbe en fait esprendre;
Del brant d'acer la mure li presentet,
Desur le frunt li ad faite descendre.
3920
Parmi le vis (li ad faite descendre):
La destre joe en ad tute sanglente;
L'osberc del dos josque par sum le ventre.
Deus le guarit, que mort ne l'acraventet. aoi.
CCLXXXVI
Ço veit Tierris, que el vis est ferut:
3925
Li sancs tuz clers en chiet el pred herbus
f.71r
Fiert Pinabel sur l'elme d'acer brun,
Jusqu'al nasel li ad frait e fendut,
Del chef li ad le cervel espandut,
Brandit sun colp, si l'ad mort abatut.
3930
A icest colp est li esturs vencut.
Escrient Franc: «Deus i ad fait vertut!
Asez est dreiz que Guenes seit pendut
E si parent, ki plaidet unt pur lui.» aoi.
CCLXXXVII
Quant Tierris ad vencue sa bataille,
3935
Venuz i est li emperere Carles,
Ensembl'od lui de ses baruns quarante,
Naimes li dux, Oger de Danemarche,
Geifrei d'Anjou e Willalme de Blaive.
Li reis ad pris Tierri entre sa brace,
3940
Tert lui le vis od ses granz pels de martre,
Celes met jus, puis li afublent altres;
Mult suavet le chevaler desarment.
[Munter l'unt] fait en une mule d'Arabe;
Repairet s'en a joie e a barnage;
3945
Vienent ad Ais, descendent en la place.
Des ore cumencet l'ocisiun des altres.
CCLXXXVIII
Carles apelet ses cuntes e ses dux:
«Que me loez de cels qu'ai retenuz?
Pur Guenelun erent a plait venuz,
3950
Pur Pinabel en ostage renduz.»
Respundent Franc: «Ja mar en vivrat uns!»
Li reis cumandet un soen veier, Basbrun:
«Va, sis pent tuz a l'arbre de mal fust!
f.71v
Par ceste barbe dunt li peil sunt canuz,
3955
Se uns escapet, morz ies e cunfunduz.»
Cil li respunt: «Qu'en fereie jo e el?»
Od .C. serjanz par force les cunduit.
.XXX. en i ad d'icels ki sunt pendut.
Ki hume traïst, sei ocit e altroi. aoi.
CCLXXXIX
3960
Puis sunt turnet Bavier e Aleman
E Peitevin e Bretun e Norman.
Sor tuit li altre l'unt otriet li Franc
Que Guenes moerget par merveillus ahan.
Quatre destrers funt amener avant,
3965
Puis si li lient e les piez e les mains.
Li cheval sunt orgoillus e curant;
Quatre serjanz les acoeillent devant,
Devers un'ewe ki est en mi un camp.
Guenes est turnet a perdiciun grant;
3970
Trestuit si nerf mult li sunt estendant
E tuit li membre de sun cors derumpant:
Sur l'erbe verte en espant li cler sanc.
Guenes est mort cume fel recreant.
Hom ki traïst altre, nen est dreiz qu'il s'en vant.
CCXC
3975
Quant li empereres ad faite sa venjance,
Sin apelat ses evesques de France,
Cels de Baviere e icels d'Alemaigne:
«En ma maisun ad une caitive franche.
Tant ad oït e sermuns e essamples,
3980
Creire voelt Deu, chrestientet demandet.
Baptizez la, pur quei Deus en ait l'anme.»
Cil li respundent: «Or seit faite par marrenes:
f.72r
Asez cruiz e linees dames...»
As bainz ad Aís mult sunt granz les ci...
3985
La baptizent la reïne d'Espaigne:
Truvee li unt le num de Juliane.
Chrestiene est par veire conoisance.
CCXCI
Quant l'emperere ad faite sa justise
E esclargiez est la sue grant ire,
3990
En Bramidonie ad chrestientet mise,
Passet li jurz, la nuit est aserie.
Culcez s'est li reis en sa cambre voltice.
Seint Gabriel de part Deu li vint dire:
«Carles, sumun les oz de tun emperie!
3995
Par force iras en la tere de Bire,
Reis Vivien si succuras en Imphe,
A la citet que paien unt asise:
Li chrestien te recleiment e crient.»
Li emperere n'i volsist aler mie:
4000
«Deus,» dist li reis, «si penuse est ma vie!»
Pluret des oilz, sa barbe blanche tiret.
Ci falt la geste que Turoldus declinet.
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