The Song of Roland. Anonymous
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Название: The Song of Roland

Автор: Anonymous

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Сказки

Серия:

isbn: 9781596255609

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СКАЧАТЬ have moulted free,

      Four hundred mules, with silver and gold

      Which fifty wains might scantly hold,

      So shall you have of the red bezants

      To pay the soldiers of gentle France.

      Overlong have you dwelt in Spain,—

      To Aix, your city, return again.

      The lord I serve will thither come,

      Accept the law of Christendom,

      With clasped hands your liegeman be,

      And hold his realm of you in fee."

      The Emperor raised his hands on high,

      Bent and bethought him silently.

      X

      The Emperor bent his head full low;

      Never hasty of speech I trow;

      Leisurely came his words, and slow,

      Lofty his look as he raised his head:

      "Thou hast spoken well," at length he said.

      "King Marsil was ever my deadly foe,

      And of all these words, so fair in show,

      How may I the fulfilment know?"

      Hostages will you?" the heathen cried,

      "Ten or twenty, or more beside.

      I will send my son, were his death at hand,

      With the best and noblest of all our land;

      And when you sit in your palace halls,

      And the feast of St. Michael of Peril falls,

      Unto the waters will come our king,

      Which God commanded for you to spring;

      There in the laver of Christ be laved.'

      "Yea!" said Karl, "he may yet be saved."

      XI

      Fair and bright did the evening fall:

      The ten white mules were stabled in stall;

      On the sward was a fair pavilion dressed,

      To give to the Saracens cheer of the best;

      Servitors twelve at their bidding bide,

      And they rest all night until morning tide.

      The Emperor rose with the day—dawn clear,

      Failed not Matins and Mass to hear,

      Then betook him beneath a pine,

      Summoned his barons by word and sign:

      As his Franks advise will his choice incline.

      XII

      Under a pine is the Emperor gone,

      And his barons to council come forth anon:

      Archbishop Turpin, Duke Ogier bold

      With his nephew Henry was Richard the old,

      Gascony's gallant Count Acelin,

      Tybalt of Rheims, and Milo his kin,

      Gerein and his brother in arms, Gerier,

      Count Roland and his faithful fere,

      The gentle and valiant Olivier:

      More than a thousand Franks of France

      And Ganelon came, of woful chance;

      By him was the deed of treason done.

      So was the fatal consult begun.

      XIII

      "Lords my barons," the Emperor said,

      "King Marsil to me hath his envoys sped.

      He proffers treasure surpassing bounds,

      Bears and lions, and leashed hounds;

      Seven hundred camels that bend the knee;

      A thousand hawks that have moulted free;

      Four hundred mules with Arab gold,

      Which fifty wains might scantly hold.

      But he saith to France must I wend my way:

      He will follow to Aix with brief delay,

      Bend his heart unto Christ's belief,

      And hold his marches of me in fief;

      Yet I know not what in his heart may lie."

      "Beware! beware!" was the Franks' outcry.

      XIV

      Scarce his speech did the Emperor close,

      When in high displeasure Count Roland rose,

      Fronted his uncle upon the spot,

      And said, "This Marsil, believe him not:

      Seven full years have we warred in Spain;

      Commibles and Noples for you have I ta'en,

      Tudela and Sebilie, cities twain;

      Valtierra I won, and the land of Pine,

      And Balaguet fell to this arm of mine.

      King Marsil hath ever a traitor been:

      He sent of his heathens, at first fifteen.

      Bearing each one on olive bough,

      Speaking the self—same words as now.

      Into council with your Franks you went,

      Lightly they flattered your heart's intent;

      Two of your barons to him you sent,

      They were Basan and Basil, the brother knights:

      He smote off their heads on Haltoia's heights.

      War, I say!—end СКАЧАТЬ