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 pa.s.s 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 G.o.d'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 surpa.s.sed 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 gra.s.s, 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 gra.s.s 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 G.o.d 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 l.u.s.ty body grew, He turned his eyes, were very shadowful.

Charles complained in amity and truth: "Rollant, my friend, G.o.d 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