The Song of Roland. Anonymous

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      Unto Saragossa lead on your van;

      Were the siege to last your lifetime through,

      Avenge the nobles this felon slew."

      XV

      The Emperor bent him and mused within,

      Twisted his beard upon lip and chin,

      Answered his nephew nor good nor ill;

      And the Franks, save Ganelon, all were still:

      Hastily to his feet he sprang,

      Haughtily his words outrang:

      "By me or others be not misled,

      Look to your own good ends," he said.

      "Since now King Marsil his faith assures,

      That, with hands together clasped in yours,

      He will henceforth your vassal be,

      Receive the Christian law as we,

      And hold his realm of you in fee,

      Whoso would treaty like this deny,

      Recks not, sire, by what death we die:

      Good never came from counsel of pride,

      List to the wise, and let madmen bide."

      XVI

      Then his form Duke Naimes upreared,

      White of hair and hoary of beard.

      Better vassal in court was none.

      "You have hearkened," he said, "unto Ganelon.

      Well hath Count Ganelon made reply;

      Wise are his words, if you bide thereby.

      King Marsil is beaten and broken in war;

      You have captured his castles anear and far,

      With your engines shattered his walls amain,

      His cities burned, his soldiers slain:

      Respite and ruth if he now implore,

      Sin it were to molest him more.

      Let his hostages vouch for the faith he plights,

      And send him one of your Christian knights.

      'Twere time this war to an ending came."

      "Well saith the duke!" the Franks exclaim.

      XVII

      "Lords my barons, who then were best

      In Saragossa to do our hest?"

      "I," said Naimes, "of your royal grace,

      Yield me in token your glove and mace."

      "Nay—my sagest of men art thou:

      By my beard upon lip and chin I vow

      Thou shalt never depart so far from me:

      Sit thee down till I summon thee.

      XVIII

      "Lords my barons, whom send we, then,

      To Saragossa, the Saracen den?"

      "I," said Roland, "will blithely go."

      "Nay," said Olivier; "nay, not so.

      All too fiery of mood thou art;

      Thou wouldst play, I fear me, a perilous part.

      I go myself, if the king but will."

      "I command," said Karl, "that ye both be still.

      Neither shall be on this errand bound,

      Nor one of the twelve—my peers around;

      So by my blanching beard I swear."

      The Franks are abashed and silent there.

      XIX

      Turpin of Rheims from amid the ranks

      Said: "Look, my liege, on your faithful Franks:

      Seven full years have they held this land,

      With pain and peril on every hand.

      To me be the mace and the glove consigned;

      I will go this Saracen lord to find,

      And freely forth will I speak my mind."

      The Emperor answered in angry plight,

      "Sit thee down on that carpet white;

      Speak not till I thy speech invite.

      XX

      "My cavaliers," he began anew,

      "Choose of my marches a baron true,

      Before King Marsil my hest to do."

      "Be it, then," said Roland, "my stepsire Gan,

      In vain ye seek for a meeter man."

      The Franks exclaim, "He is worth the trust,

      So it please the king it is right and just."

      Count Ganelon then was with anguish wrung,

      His mantle of fur from his neck he flung.

      Stood all stark in his silken vest,

      And his grey eyes gleamed with a fierce unrest.

      Fair of body and large of limb,

      All in wonderment gazed on him.

      "Thou madman," thus he to Roland cried,

      "What may this rage against me betide?

      I am thy stepsire, as all men know,

      And thou doom'st me on hest like this to go;

      But so God my safe return bestow,

      I promise to work thee scathe and strife

      Long as thou breathest the breath of life."

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