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.
