CCXVIII

But the king kept watch o'er Roland's bier O'er Turpin and Sir Olivier.

He bade their bodies opened be, Took the hearts of the barons three, Swathed them in silken cerements light, Laid them in urns of the marble white.

Their bodies did the Franks enfold In skins of deer, around them rolled; Laved them with spices and with wine, Till the king to Milo gave his sign, To Tybalt, Otun, and Gebouin; Their bodies three on biers they set, Each in its silken coverlet.

CCXIX

To Saragossa did Marsil flee.

He alighted beneath an olive tree, And sadly to his serfs he gave His helm, his cuira.s.s, and his glaive, Then flung him on the herbage green; Came nigh him Bramimonde his queen.

Shorn from his wrist was his right hand good; He swooned for pain and waste of blood.

The queen, in anguish, wept and cried, With twenty thousand by her side.

King Karl and gentle France they cursed; Then on their G.o.ds their anger burst.

Unto Apollin's crypt they ran, And with revilings thus began: "Ah, evil-hearted G.o.d, to bring Such dark dishonor on our king.

Thy servants ill dost thou repay."

His crown and wand they wrench away, They bind him to a pillar fast, And then his form to earth they cast, His limbs with staves they bruise and break: From Termagaunt his gem they take: Mohammed to a trench they bear, For dogs and boars to tread and tear.

CCXX

Within his vaulted hall they bore King Marsil, when his swoon was o'er; The hall with colored writings stained.

And loud the queen in anguish plained, The while she tore her streaming hair, "Ah, Saragossa, reft and bare, Thou seest thy n.o.ble king o'erthrown!

Such felony our G.o.ds have shown, Who failed in fight his aids to be.

The Emir comes--a dastard he, Unless he will that race essay, Who proudly fling their lives away.

Their Emperor of the h.o.a.ry beard, In valor's desperation reared, Will never fly for mortal foe.

Till he be slain, how deep my woe[2]!"

[Footnote 2: Here intervenes the episode of the great battle fought between Charlemagne and Baligant, Emir of Babylon, who had come, with a mighty army, to the succor of King Marsil his va.s.sal. This episode has been suspected of being a later interpolation. The translation is resumed at the end of the battle, after the Emir had been slain by Charlemagne's own hand, and when the Franks enter Saragossa in pursuit of the Saracens.]

CCXXI

Fierce is the heat and thick the dust.

The Franks the flying Arabs thrust.

To Saragossa speeds their flight.

The queen ascends a turret's height.

The clerks and canons on her wait, Of that false law G.o.d holds in hate.

Order or tonsure have they none.

And when she thus beheld undone The Arab power, all disarrayed, Aloud she cried, "Mahound us aid!

My king! defeated is our race, The Emir slain in foul disgrace."

King Marsil turns him to the wall, And weeps--his visage darkened all.

He dies for grief--in sin he dies, His wretched soul the demon's prize.

CCXXII

Dead lay the heathens, or turned to flight, And Karl was victor in the fight.

Down Saragossa's wall he brake-- Defence he knew was none to make.

And as the city lay subdued, The h.o.a.ry king all proudly stood, There rested his victorious powers.

The queen hath yielded up the towers-- Ten great towers and fifty small.

Well strives he whom G.o.d aids withal.

CCXXIII

Day pa.s.sed; the shades of night drew on, And moon and stars refulgent shone.

Now Karl is Saragossa's lord, And a thousand Franks, by the king's award, Roam the city, to search and see Where mosque or synagogue may be.

With axe and mallet of steel in hand, They let nor idol nor image stand; The shrines of sorcery down they hew, For Karl hath faith in G.o.d the True, And will Him righteous service do.

The bishops have the water blessed, The heathen to the font are pressed.

If any Karl's command gainsay, He has him hanged or burned straightway.

So a hundred thousand to Christ are won; But Bramimonde the queen alone Shall unto France be captive brought, And in love be her conversion wrought.

CCXXIV

Night pa.s.sed, and came the daylight hours, Karl garrisoned the city's towers; He left a thousand valiant knights, To sentinel their Emperor's rights.

Then all his Franks ascend their steeds, While Bramimonde in bonds he leads, To work her good his sole intent.

And so, in pride and strength, they went; They pa.s.sed Narbonne in gallant show, And reached thy stately walls, Bordeaux.

There, on Saint Severin's altar high, Karl placed Count Roland's horn to lie, With mangons filled, and coins of gold, As pilgrims to this hour behold.

Across Garonne he bent his way, In ships within the stream that lay, And brought his nephew unto Blaye, With his n.o.ble comrade, Olivier, And Turpin sage, the gallant peer.

Of the marble white their tombs were made; In Saint Roman's shrine are the baron's laid, Whom the Franks to G.o.d and his saints commend And Karl by hill and vale doth wend, Nor stays till Aix is reached, and there Alighteth on his marble stair.

When sits he in his palace hall, He sends around to his judges all, From Frisia, Saxony, Loraine, From Burgundy and Allemaine, From Normandy, Brittaine, Poitou: The realm of France he searches through, And summons every sagest man.

The plea of Ganelon then began.

CCXXV

From Spain the Emperor made retreat, To Aix in France, his kingly seat; And thither, to his halls, there came, Alda, the fair and gentle dame.

"Where is my Roland, sire," she cried, "Who vowed to take me for his bride?"

O'er Karl the flood of sorrow swept; He tore his beard and loud he wept.

"Dear sister, gentle friend," he said, "Thou seekest one who lieth dead: I plight to thee my son instead,-- Louis, who lord of my realm shall be."

"Strange," she said, "seems this to me.

G.o.d and his angels forbid that I Should live on earth if Roland die."

Pale grew her cheek--she sank amain, Down at the feet of Carlemaine.

So died she. G.o.d receive her soul!

The Franks bewail her in grief and dole.

CCXXVI

So to her death went Alda fair.

The king but deemed she fainted there.

While dropped his tears of pity warm, He took her hands and raised her form.

Upon his shoulder drooped her head, And Karl was ware that she was dead.

When thus he saw that life was o'er, He summoned n.o.ble ladies four.