To form the first the giants of Malpruse
Were summoned; to the second came the Huns;
The Hungres made the third; Baldise-la-Lungue
The fourth, and Val-Penuse the fifth; the sixth
Maruse; the seventh Leuz and Astrimonies;
The eighth Argoilles; Clarbone the ninth; the tenth
Formed of the bearded men of Val-Fonde,
A tribe that never would love God. The songs
Of Geste of France thus thirty legions count:
A mighty host where many a trumpet blasts.
Forward, like valiant knights, the Pagans ride.
Aoi.
CCXXXVII.
The Emir, rich and mighty lord, commands
Before him to display his dragon-flag,
The standard of Mahum and Tervagant;
With it Apollo's image, evil god.
Ten Canelieus about him ride, and cry
This sermon with loud voice: "Who by our Gods
Craves to be saved, with the most contrite heart
Must pray!" And then the Pagans low incline
Their heads and chins, with brilliant helms bent down
To earth.--"Now, gluttons, comes your hour to die!"
Cry out the French; "Confusion be your lot.
This day, O God of ours, defend King Carle,
Turn Thou the scale of battle to his side!"
Aoi.
CCXXXVIII.
The Emir, great in wisdom, called his son
And the two kings:--"Seigneurs Barons, in front
Ride ye, and all my legions you shall lead;
Among them only three will I retain,
But of the best: The first shall be the Turks,
The second of the Ormaleis composed,
And third shall be the Giants of Malpruse,
While those of Occiant shall near me stand
To set them on King Carle and on his French.
Should then the Emperor dare measure arms
With me, struck from its trunk his head shall fall--
No right has he to other fate than this."
Aoi.
CCXXXIX.
Both armies are immense; their squadrons bright.
Between the combatants nor height, nor hill,
Nor vale, nor wood that shelter could afford;
Foe looks on foe across the open field.--
Said Baligant: "My Saracens, to horse!
Ride forward to the fight!" The battle flag
Is borne on high by Amboire d'Oliferne,
And all shout "Precieuse!" The French exclaim:
"May ye confounded be this day!" Aloud
Rises their cry "Montjoie!" The Emperor Carle
His trumpets bid resound, and the olifant
Whose blast 'whelms all. The Pagans say: "Carle's host
Is fair! Fierce battle shall we have and dire."
Aoi.
CCXL.
Vast is the plain and broad the field. Behold
Those dazzling helms inlaid with gold and gems,
Those shields, those coats of mail with saffron edged,
Those spears and pennons rolled; hearken ye the voice
Of trumpets blowing clear and strong, and hark
The olifant's shrill blast, which sounds the charge.
The Emir calls his brother, Canabeu,
The King of Floredee, who rules the land
As far as Val-Sevree, and points to Carle's
Ten must'ring legions: "See the pride of France
The praised; amid his bearded knights how proud
The Emperor rides! O'er their hauberks stream
Their beards as white as snow upon the frost.
Forsooth! These valiant warriors will strike hard
With lance and sword, and such a fight be ours
As never man has fought." Then Baligant,
Urging his courser further than a man
Can hurl a staff, gave reasons and their proof:
"Come forward, Pagans; follow where I go!"
Brandishing high the shaft of his own lance,
At Carle he levels fair its trenchant steel.
Aoi.
CCXLI.
When Carle the Emir sees, and with him borne
The dragon-standard, all the land o'erswarmed
By Arab warriors, save that space alone
Held by his host, he cries with loudest voice:
"Barons of France, in valor great, we know,
Upon how many fields ye battled! See
The Pagans! Traitors vile and cowards all;
Yea, all their law I count no denier worth.
What care ye, lords, how vast their numbers are?
Let those who wish to combat follow me!"
With pointed spurs he pricks his courser's flanks
And Tecendur four times leaped in the air.
Cry out the French:--"A valiant King is this!
Ride forward, Sire, not one will fail you here."
Aoi.
CCXLII.
Clear was the day and bright the sun. Both hosts
Resplendent, their battalions numberless;
The legions in the van already meet
In fight. Both Counts Rabel and Guineman
On their fleet coursers' necks have loosed the rein!
Sharply they spur, and all the Franks dash on
To deal with trenchant lance their valiant blows.
Aoi.
CCXLIII.
A daring Knight is Count Rabel. With spurs
Of purest gold he pricks his courser's flanks,
Rushing to smite Torleu the Persian King.
No shield, no hauberk can such blow withstand.
The golden spear went through the Pagan's heart
And mid the brambles of the road has struck
Him dead. The French cry out: "Aid us, O God!
With Carle the right; ne'er shall we fail our King!"
Aoi.
CCXLIV.
Guineman 'gainst the King of Leutice tilts;
The Pagan's shield with painted flowers bedecked
Is shattered and his hauberk torn away.
Through his heart's core the pennon of the Knight
Is driven, bearing death,--or laugh or weep
Who may. At such a blow the French exclaim:
"Barons, strike ever! Strike and be not slack
Against the Pagan hordes; to Carle belongs
The right. With us the justice true of God!"
Aoi.
CCXLV.
Malprime upon a steed of purest white
Leads 'gainst the serried legions of the Franks
His men. Abating not his mighty blows,
Corse over corse he heaps. Cries Baligant
In front: "Ye whom my kindness nurtured long,
Barons of mine, see how my son seeks Carle
And with so many knights he measured arms;
A better vassal I shall never claim;
Give him the succor of your trenchant spears."
On rush the Pagans at these words, and deal
Their mortal blows around. Rude is the fight!
The battle marvelous and stern. None such
Was ever seen before or since that hour.
Aoi.
CCXLVI.
The hosts are numberless, the warriors fierce--
The encount'ring legions fighting hand to hand
Noblest exploits achieved. How many a lance
Asunder broken; God! How many shields
In pieces split, how many hauberks wrenched!
Splinters of shivered armor you might see
Strew all the field, and verdant tender grass
Vermillioned o'er by streams of human gore!
The Emir to his people calls anew:
"Barons strike down these Christian people!"--Hard
And long the fight embittered by revenge
And rage. Ne'er seen before nor will be seen
Again such combat.--To the death they fight.
Aoi.
CCXLVII.
The Emir to his men:--"Strike, Pagans, ye
For this alone have come. Dames sweet and fair
Shall be your guerdon; honors, and domains
I promise all."--The Saracens respond:
"To serve you all we ought."--So hard they fight
That in the hot affray they lose their spears:
Anon a thousand flashing swords and more,
Are drawn, a bloody slaughter to achieve.
He who stood on that field, true battle saw.
Aoi.
CCXLVIII.
The King exhorts his French: "Beloved Seigneurs
And trusty Knights, ye many battles fought
For me, won many a realm, defeated Kings!
Full well I know, rich guerdons have ye earned;
My wealth, lands, blood I owe you. Now to-day
Your sons, your brothers and your kin avenge
Who fell in Ronceval but yesternight!
Well know ye mine the right, with them the wrong."
The French reply:--"Yea, sire, you speak the truth."
The twenty thousand knights who march with Carle
Pledge with one soul their fealty. Dire distress,
E'en death, shall cause not one of these to fail
The Emperor; not on lances they rely,
But with the sword in hand wage doughty strife.
Wondrous the raging battle. Stern the fight.
Aoi.
CCXLIX.
The brave Malprime has pressed his steed across
The field, and carried death among the French.
Duke Naimes glanced proudly toward him, and as knight
In battle fearless met him in career;
He strikes ... tears off his buckler's leathern top,
The hauberk cuts in twain, drives through the heart
The yellow pennon of the spear, and strikes
Him dead mid seven hundred other knights.
Aoi.
CCL.
King Canabeus, the Emir's brother, spurs
His courser on; his crystal-hilted sword
Unsheathes, and deals Naimes' princely helm a blow
Which splits the crest in twain; the trenchant blade
Severs the five strong bands which to his head
Fast bound it; now not worth a denier was
The steel-mailed hood; down to the flesh the casque
Sheer cleft--a fragment falls upon the earth.
The blow was great; the Duke, astounded, reeled,
And would have fallen but for God's help. He clasps
His courser's neck, and should the Pagan deal
Another stroke, the noble Duke has breathed
His last; but to his help comes Carle of France.
Aoi.
CCLI.
In the Duke Naimes' brave heart what agony!
Once more the Pagan raised his arm to strike,
But now King Carle cries:--"Coward, wretch! This blow
Brings thee ill luck!"--And valiantly the King
Rushed on, crushed 'gainst his heart the buckler, rent
The hauberk's top; dead-struck the heathen King
Falls on the ground ... empty the saddle rests.
Aoi.
CCLII.
Deep grief the Emperor felt when there he saw
Duke Naimes sore-wounded and the verdant grass
Streamed o'er by his clear blood, and thereupon
This counsel spoke:--"Fair Naimes, ride close by me;
The wretch who brought you to this cruel fight
Has breathed his last, his body by my lance
Transfixed."--The Duke:--"In you my trust, O sire!
If e'er I live, with knightly service shall
My arm requite this deed!"--Then side by side
In faith and love, with twenty thousand knights
They march. And none of these or flinch or yield.
Aoi.
CCLIII.
The Emir rides across the field, in haste
To deal a blow against Count Guineman.
Athwart his heart he breaks the buckler white
And tears the hauberk's sides apart, disjoints
Two ribs and hurls him from his courser, dead;
Then takes the life of Gebain and Lorant,
And of Richard the old, a Norman Lord.
The Pagans cry: "_Precieuse_ deserves its name!
Barons! strike on, Precieuse will save us all!"
Aoi.
CCLIV.
A noble sight, those knights of Araby,
Of Occiant, of Argoille and of Bascle!
Spears intermix, death to repel or give.
Nathless the French recoil not from the strife.
On either side they fall heaped high. Till eve
The storm of battle raged. Meanwhile the knights
Of France upon that day bore rueful loss;
Nor stayed the carnage till the day was done.
CCLV.
French and Arabian warriors emulate
In valor each the other. Ashen shafts
Break from their brazen heads. Whoso then saw
Those shields defaced, who heard those hauberks white
Resound with blows, this dinning clash of shields
'Gainst helmets grinding, saw those knights and men
Fall and with dying shrieks roll on the earth,
Of greatest anguish could the memory keep;
So fierce this battle raged. The Emir calls
Upon Apollo, Tervagan, upon
Mahum: "Till now I served you well, O Gods!
And I will have an image made for each,
Molten of purest gold [if ye but help]!"
Before him then his favorite Gemalfin
Appears. He brings ill news. "Sire Baligant
This day brings you mishap; Malprime, your son
Has fall'n! Your brother Canabeus is dead.
Two Franks the glory have of their defeat,
One, Carle the Emperor, I deem, so vast
His fame, his air as _Marchis_ grand, his beard
As white as April blossom!" At these words
The Emir's helm declines, his visage sinks
Low on his breast. Such is his grief, he thinks
Death nears him. Calling Jangleu d'ultremer,
Aoi.
CCLVI.
The Emir said:--"Jangleu, step forth; most wise
Art thou, thy knowledge great; thy counsel e'er
I followed; what the chance of victory
For Franks or Arabs deemest thou?" Jangleu
Responds:--"Death, Baligant, hangs o'er your head.
Ne'ermore your gods can save you; Carle is proud,
And valiant are his men. Ne'er lived a race
So strong in battle; yet call up your knights
Of Occiant, Enfruns and Arabs, Turks
And Giants. Do your duty with all speed."
Aoi.
CCLVII.
The Emir spreads out to the breeze his beard
As hawthorn blossom white; betide what may,
Escape he will not seek, puts to his lips
A trumpet clear, whose blast the Pagans hark,
And fast their cohorts rally on the field.
They bray and neigh, the men of Occiant,
While those of Arguile yelp as curs, and charge
The Franks so rashly, they mow down and break
Their thickest ranks, and by this blow
Throw seven thousand dead upon the field.
Aoi.
CCLVIII.
To Count Ogier is dastardy unknown;
No better vassal buckled hauberk on.
When the French legions broken thus he saw,
He called Tierri Duke of Argonne, Geffrei
D'Anjou and Jozeran the Count, and spoke
These haughty words to Carle:--"Behold our men
By Pagans slaughtered! May God ne'er permit
Your brow to wear its crown if unrevenged
Your shame remains!" None dared reply a word,
But spurring hard their steeds, with loosened reins
They rush in fury 'gainst the Pagan ranks
And strike the foes where'er they can be met.
Aoi.
CCLIX.
Hard strikes Carlemagne the king, hard strikes Duke Naimes,
Ogier de Dannemark, Geffrei d'Anjou,
Who bears the royal pennon. But o'er all
Ogier de Dannemark puts forth his might;
He pricks his courser, drops the rein and falls
Upon the Pagan who the Dragon holds,
So fiercely, that both Dragon and the King's
Own flag is crushed before him on the spot.
When Baligant beholds his gonfalon fall
And Mahum's flag defenseless, in his heart
Springs quick the thought, wrong may be on his side
And right on Carle's. The Pagans [waver now].
The Emperor Carle around him calls his (Franks):
"Barons, in God's name, do you stand by me?"
Respond the French:--"To ask is an offense.
Accurst be he who deals not glorious strokes!"
Aoi.
CCLX.
The day wears on and vesper draweth nigh.
Christians and Pagans, sword in hand, engage;
And valiant are their chiefs, nor mindless they
Of battle cries:--"Precieuse!" the Emir shouts,
And Carle:--"Montjoie!" the glorious sign. Each knows
The other by the clear sonorous voice,
And 'mid the field encountering, gives and takes
Fierce blows. Each massy shield receives the shock,
And each beneath the boss is cloven in twain
By the strong lance; each hauberk's sides are rent,
But the keen steel in neither reached the flesh;
The horse-girths burst and let the saddles fall.
Dropped to the earth both kings, both to their feet
Quick springing, dauntlessly unsheathed their swords.
And now the mortal combat will not cease
Till Carle or Baligant has fallen in death.
Aoi.
CCLXI.
Carle of sweet France is brave, but the Emir feels
Before him neither fear nor dread. Both wield
Their naked swords and mighty thrusts exchange.
The shields, of wood and leather multifold,
Are rent, the nails torn out, the bosses split;
Each at the other's hauberk aims his blows.
Both combat breast to breast; the showering sparks
Wrap both their helms in fire: no end can be
Till one or other, vanquished, owns his wrong.
Aoi.
CCLXII.
The Emir said: "King Carle, bethink thee yet;
Take better counsel with thy heart, and show
Remorse. Full well I know, by thee my son
Was slain, thou broughtest ruin through my land.
Become my man, I will restore [in fief]
This land [to thee], and to the East, but serve
Me well." And Carle: "Great shame were that to me!
To Heathens I can give no peace nor love....
Receive the law our God revealed; accept
The faith of Christ.... For e'er my love is thine,
If thou believe in God, the Almighty King."
Said Baligant: "Ill words are these of thine:
[Far better die by the keen edge of sword."]
Aoi.
CCLXIII.
The mighty Emir with a giant's strength
Smites Carle upon the helm of burnished steel,
Which splits in twain beneath the ponderous blow,
Cuts through the silky hair, shears from the scalp
Fully the breadth of a man's palm and more,
Baring the skull. Carle staggers, nearly falls,
But God willed not that he should die or yield.
Saint Gabriel, with eager flight once more
Descends, demanding:--"What ails thee, great King?"
Aoi.
CCLXIV.
When Carle the Angel's heavenly accent hears,
All thought or dread of death forsakes his soul,
And in him springs again his former strength.
The Emir by the royal sword of France
Is struck, his helm all bright with gems is rent,
His cloven skull pours out the brain, his face
Is cleft to the very roots of his white beard:
Dead falls the Pagan past recovery.
Then shouts the King his rallying cry, "Montjoie!"
Hearing his shout, Duke Naimes hastes up, and brings
The charger Tecendur for Carle the great
To mount. The Pagans turn their backs--God wills
They should not stay. The Franks have their desires.
Aoi.
CCLXV.
The Pagans fly--such is the will of God;
Carle leads the French in the pursuit. Thus spake
The King:--"Seigneurs, the time is come to give
Vent to just hatred, and your anguished hearts
Assuage. This very morn I saw your eyes
Streaming with tears." They cry:--"Our vengeance now!"
And vying with each other in exploits,
They deal their mighty blows. But few escape.
Aoi.
CCLXVI.
Amidst the sultry heat and clouds of dust
The Pagans roused, by their foes harassed,
Flee far for Sarraguce. To her high tower
Ascends Queen Bramimunde, where, seeing thus
The routed Arabs fly, she calls her priests
And canons, subjects to false law, by God
Ne'er loved: their crowns no holy tonsure wear.
She cries aloud:--"Aid us, Mahum! Oh aid!
O gentle King! Already vanquished are
Our men, the Emir slain in shameful death!"
On hearing this, Marsile turned to the wall
His covered face, and amid bitter tears
His life departed. Soon the eager fiends
Bore off to judgment his sin-burthened soul.
Aoi.
CCLXVII.
The Pagans all are slain [or put to flight];
Carle wins the day. The gates of Sarraguce
Are stormed, and well he knows, defense is vain.
He takes the city. All the Christian host
Pour in, and there repose their limbs this night.
The King with snow-white beard is filled with pride:
Queen Bramimunde gives up the citadels;
Ten of these forts are large, and fifty small.
Well helped are they whom God Almighty aids.
Aoi.
CCLXVIII.
The sunny day had passed, the shades of night
Had fallen; bright the moonlight; all the stars
In heaven shone. Carle ruled in Sarraguce.
Unto one thousand men he gave command
To search throughout the city's synagogues
And mosques for all their idols and graved signs
Of gods--these to be broken up and crushed
By ax and iron mallet he ordains.
Nor sorcery nor falsehood left. King Carle
Believes in God and serves him faithfully.
Then bishops bless the fountains, leading up
The Heathens to the blest baptismal Font.
If one perchance resist the King, condemned
Is he to die, or hanged, or burnt, or slain.
More than one hundred thousand are baptized
True Christians; but not so Queen Bramimunde:
A captive shall she go unto sweet France
And be converted by the King through love.
Aoi.
CCLXIX.
Night passes; dawn appears. Carle fortifies
The towers of Sarraguce. One thousand Knights
Of valor proved are left to guard the town
In the Emperor's name. With escort strong he rides,
Followed by Bramimunde a captive, yet
Commands that naught but kindness she receive.
In proud and joyous triumph they return;
Through Nerbune passes the victorious host,
Unto Burdele, the city great and fair.
There on the altar of the Baron Saint
Sevrin, Carle lays the olifant filled full
Of marks and gold, where pilgrims view it still.
Passing upon broad skiffs across Girunde,
To Blaive, he bears the bodies of Rolland
And Olivier, his noble _Compagnon_,
With the Archbishop good and brave. Beneath
White monuments he hath the lords entombed
At Saint-Romain. Here those three Barons lie....
The French to God and to his saints, once more
Commend them. Carle anew through mounts and vales
Proceeds, nor will he stop until in Aix.
Fast rides he till he nears the marble steps
Of his great palace; and as soon as reached
Its tower, by messengers he summons up
Baiviers and Saisnes, Loherencs and Frisons,
Allemans, Burguignons, Normans, Poitevins,
Bretons, of France the wisest men; for now
Ganelon's trial shall have no delay.
Aoi.
THE PUNISHMENT OF GANELON.
CCLXX.
From Spain at last the Emperor has returned
To Aix, the noblest seat of France; ascends
His palace, enters in the stately hall.--
Now comes to greet him the fair [lady] Aude,
And asks the King:--"Where is Rolland the chief
Who pledged his faith to take me for his wife?"
Sore-pained, heart-broken, Carle, with weeping eyes,
Tears his white beard.--"Ah! sister well beloved,
Thou askest me of one who is no more.
A worthier match I give thee in exchange;
Loewis it is. I can not better say.
He is my son, and will protect my realms."
Aude answers:--"To my ear these words are strange.
May God, His saints, His angels, all forfend
That, if Rolland lives not, I still should live."
Her color fades, she falls prone at the feet
Of Carlemagne--dead ... God's mercy on her soul!
Barons of France mourn her with pitying tears.
Aoi.
CCLXXI.
Such was the end of Aude the beautiful.
The King, in hope 'tis but a swoon, with tears
And pity taking both her hands, uplifts
Her form; the head upon the shoulders sinks.
As soon as Carle knows it is death indeed,
Four countesses he summons, bids them bear
In haste the Lady to a nunnery.----
All night they watched the body, and at morn
Beside a shrine gently she was entombed
With highest honors by the King's command.
Aoi.
CCLXXII.
The Emperor is once more at Aix. There stands
Amid the city 'fore the palace gate,
In iron chains, the traitor Ganelon.
His hands are fastened to a stake with thongs
Of deer-skin by the sergeants who then beat
His body well with staves and heavy cords.
Such treatment was his true desert. He waits
His coming doom, in agony of soul.
Aoi.
CCLXXIII.
Written it is in ancient Geste of France
That Carle then summoned men from all his lands,
Who met at Aix's Chapelle. A solemn feast
It was; some say the Baron Saint Silvestre's.
This day began the plea and history
Of Ganelon who wove the treason's plot.
The Emperor bade them drag him to his bar.
Aoi.
CCLXXIV.
"Seigneurs Barons," said to them Carle the King,
"Judge Ganelon according to the law.--
Among my host with me to Spain he came;
His craft lost twenty thousand of my Franks;
My nephew, whom ye nevermore shall see,
And Olivier, the brave and courteous Knight.
The traitor sold my brave twelve Peers for gain."
Then Ganelon:--"May I be cursed ere I
Deny. Of wealth and honors had [Rolland]
Deprived me, and for this, his loss and death
I wrought, but treason none I will confess."
Respond the French:--"On this we counsel take."
Aoi.
CCLXXV.
In presence of the King stands Ganelon
With bearing hardy, florid countenance;
Were he but loyal, as a Baron true
His mien. Upon the French and judges he
Has cast a glance, and on his thirty kin
Who 'round him stand; then with firm voice exclaims:
"Barons! Now hear me all, for love of God!
I to the Emperor's host belonged, and served
Him ever in all faith and love. Rolland,
His nephew, hatred bore to me, and fain
Had doomed my days to torture and to death.
As message-bearer I to King Marsile
Was sent, wisdom alone my shield and guard;
I gave defiance to Rolland the bold,
To Olivier and to their comrades all:
By Carle and all his Barons this was heard.
Revenge this was, but treason it was none."
Reply the French:--"All this we well shall weigh."
Aoi.
CCLXXVI.
On seeing the great plea was to commence,
Thirty good Knights were called by Ganelon
Out of his kin, and one among them makes
A speech all others hark: 'tis Pinabel
Of Castel de Sorence, of greatest skill
In words, and apt with reason plausible;
Withal, a vassal brave to guard his arms.
Thus to him Ganelon:--"In you my trust
I place; my life from death, my name from shame
Preserve!"--Said Pinabel:--"Thou shalt be saved.
Dare one French Knight condemn thee to be hanged,
And would the Emperor make us both to meet
In combat, my good sword will his rash word
Believe."--And at his feet falls Ganelon.
Aoi.
CCLXXVII.
Baiviers, Saines, Poitevins, Normans and French
In council met;--Allemans, Tiedeis in great
Array. Those from Alverne most courteous prove
And show more kindness unto Pinabel.
One to the others said:--"To leave this plea
Right would it be, and pray Carl'magne, this once
To pardon Ganelon who, from this day,
Will serve his lord with truer faith and love.
Rolland lies in his grave; nor wealth, nor gold
Restores him to your eyes. This cruel fight
Is folly."--All the Knights approve, save one,
Tierri, a brother of the Lord Geffrei.
Aoi.
CCLXXVIII.
To Carle his Barons come again, and say:
"We pray you, sire, acquit Count Ganelon;
Then will he serve you with true faith and love.
Grant him his life which springs from noble race.
Rolland lies in his grave; ne'er shall we see
Him more, nor treasures e'er can bring him back."
Exclaimed the King: "Vile traitors are ye all!"
Aoi.
CLXXIX.