The Song of Roland. Anonymous

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      Over King Marsil a horror came;

      He grasped his javelin, plumed with gold,

      In act to smite, were he not controlled.

      XXXV

      King Marsil's cheek the hue hath left,

      And his right hand grasped his weapon's heft.

      When Ganelon saw it, his sword he drew

      Finger lengths from the scabbard two.

      "Sword," he said, "thou art clear and bright;

      I have borne thee long in my fellows's sight,

      Mine emperor never shall say of me,

      That I perished afar, in a strange countrie,

      Ere thou in the blood of their best wert dyed."

      "Dispart the mellay," the heathens cried.

      XXXVI

      The noblest Saracens thronged amain,

      Seated the king on his throne again,

      And the Algalif said, "'Twas a sorry prank,

      Raising your weapon to slay the Frank.

      It was yours to hearken in silence there."

      "Sir," said Gan, "I may meetly bear,

      But for all the wealth of your land arrayed,

      For all the gold that God hath made,

      Would I not live and leave unsaid,

      What Karl, the mightiest king below,

      Sends, through me, to his mortal foe."

      His mantle of fur, that was round him twined,

      With silk of Alexandria lined,

      Down at Blancandrin's feet he cast,

      But still he held by his good sword fast,

      Grasping the hilt by its golden ball.

      "A noble knight," say the heathens all.

      XXXVII

      Ganelon came to the king once more.

      "Your anger," he said, "misserves you sore.

      As the princely Carlemaine saith, I say,

      You shall the Christian law obey.

      And half of Spain you shall hold in fee,

      The other half shall Count Roland's be,

      (And a haughty partner 'tis yours to see).

      Reject the treaty I here propose,

      Round Saragossa his lines will close;

      You shall be bound in fetters strong,

      Led to his city of Aix along.

      Nor steed nor palfrey shall you bestride,

      Nor mule nor jennet be yours to ride;

      On a sorry sumpter you shall be cast,

      And your head by doom stricken off at last.

      So is the Emperor's mandate traced,"—

      And the scroll in the heathen's hand he placed.

      XXXVIII

      Discolored with ire was King Marsil's hue;

      The seal he brake and to earth he threw,

      Read of the scroll the tenor clear.

      "So Karl the Emperor writes me here.

      Bids me remember his wrath and pain

      For sake of Basan and Basil slain,

      Whose necks I smote on Haltoia's hill;

      Yet, if my life I would ransom still,

      Mine uncle the Algalif must I send,

      Or love between us were else at end."

      Then outspake Jurfalez, Marsil's son:

      "This is but madness of Ganelon.

      For crime so deadly his life shall pay;

      Justice be mine on his head this day."

      Ganelon heard him, and waved his blade,

      While his back against a pine he stayed.

      XXXIX

      Into his orchard King Marsil stepped.

      His nobles round him their station kept:

      There was Jurfalez, his son and heir,

      Blancandrin of the hoary hair,

      The Algalif, truest of all his kin.

      Said Blancandrin, "Summon the Christian in;

      His troth he pledged me upon our side."

      "Go," said Marsil, "be thou his guide."

      Blancandrin led him, hand-in-hand,

      Before King Marsil's face to stand.

      Then was the villainous treason planned.

      XL

      "Fair Sir Ganelon," spake the king,

      "I did a rash and despighteous thing,

      Raising against thee mine arm to smite.

      Richly will I the wrong requite.

      See these sables whose worth were told

      At full five hundred pounds of gold:

      Thine shall they be ere the coming day."

      "I may not," said Gan, "your grace gainsay.

      God in His pleasure will you repay."

      XLI

      "Trust me I love thee, Sir Gan, and fain

      Would I hear thee СКАЧАТЬ