 Verses 1-38 of The Song of Roland Anonymous old French epic, dating perhaps as early as the middle 11th century. Charles the King, our Lord and Sovereign, full seven years had sojourned in Spain, conquered the land and won the western Maine. Now no fortress against him doth remain, no city walls are left for him to gain, save Saragus, that sits on high mountain. Masiel it's king, who feweth not God's name. Mahomet's man, he invokes a pollen's aid, nor wards off ills that shelter him attain. King Masiles he lay at Saragus, went he his way into an orchard-cool, there on a throne he sat, of marble blue. Round him his men, full twenty thousand stood, caught he forth in his counts, also his dukes. My lords give ear to our impending doom, that Emperor Charles of France the Deuce, into this land is come, us to confuse. I have no host in battle him to prove, nor have I strength his forces to undo. Counsel me then, ye that are wise and true, can ye ward off this present death and duel? What were to say no pagan of them knew, save Blancondrin, of the castle of Valfound. Blancondrin's was a pagan very wise, in Vassilage he was a gallant knight, first in prowess he stood his lord beside, and thus he spoke. Do not yourself a fright, yield to Calun, that is so big with pride. Faithful service, his friend and his ally, lions and bears and hounds for him provide, thousand mute hawks, so in hundred camelry. Silver and gold, four hundred mules load high, fifty wagons his rights will need supply, to with that wealth he pays his soldry. War hath he waged in Spain too long a time, to ex in France, homeward he will him high. Follow him there before St. Michael's tide, you shall receive and hold the Christian right, stand on a bound and do him fealty, send hostages should he demand surety, ten or a score our loyal oath to bind. Grant him our sons, the firstborn of our wives, and he be slain, I'll surely furnish mine, better by far they go, though doomed to die, than that we lose honour and dignity, and be ourselves brought down to beggary. Says Blancondrin, by my right hand I say, and by this beard that in the wind doth sway, the Frankish host you'll see them all away. Franks will retire to France their own terrain, when they are gone to each his fair domain. In his chapel at Ex will Charles stay, high festival will hold for St. Michael. Time will go by and pass the appointed day, tidings of us no Frank will hear or say. Proud is that king and cruel his courage, from the hostage he'll slice their heads away, better by far their heads be shorn away, than that ourselves lose this clear land of Spain, than that ourselves do suffer grief and pain. That is well said, so be it, the Pagans say. The council ends, and that king Marsili, calleth aside Claroun of Balei, Astramarine and Eudropin his peer, and Priamoun and Guarlon of the beard, and Makina and his uncle Mahi, with Jonah, Malbian from overseas, and Blancondrin good reason to decree. Ten hath he called, were first in felony. Gentle barons to Shalemangoyi, he is in siege of Cordris the city. In your right hand spit olive branches green, which signify peace and humility. If you by craft contrive to set me free, silver and gold you'll have your fill of me. Manors and fiefs I'll give you all your need. We have enough, the Pagans straight agree. King Marsili's, his council finishing, says to his men, Go now, my lords, to him, olive branches in your right hands bearing. Bid ye for me that shall amane the king, in his God's name to show me his mercy. Here this new moon wanes, I shall be with him. One thousand men shall be my following. I will receive the right of christening. Will be his man, my love and faith swearing. Hostages too he'll have, if so he will. Says Blancondrin's, much good will come of this. Ten snow-white mules then ordered Marsili, gifts of a king, the king of Swatili. Bridelled with gold, saddled in silver clear, mounted them those that should the message speak. In their right hands were olive branches green. Came they to Charle, that holds all France in fee. Yet cannot guard himself from treachery. Mary and bold is now that emperor. Courageous he holds, the walls are tumbled down. His catapults have battered town and tar. Great good treasure his knights have placed in pound, silver and gold and many a jeweled gown. In that city there is no pagan now, but he being slain, or takes the Christian vow. The emperor is in a great orchard-ground where Oliver and Roland stand around. Sanson the Duke annunce the proud, Geoffrey d'Angere, that bears his gonfalon. There too Gérée and Gérière are found. Where they are found is seen a mighty crowd. Fifteen thousand come out of France the deuce. On white carpets those knights have sat them down. At the game boards to pass an idle hour. Checkers the old, for wisdom most renowned, While fence the young and lusty bachelors. Beneath a pine in aglantine and barred, Stands a foldstool, fashioned of gold throughout. There sits the king, that holds deuce France in par. White is his beard, and blossoming white his crown. Shapely his limbs, his countenance is proud. Should any seek, no need to point him out. The messengers, on foot they get them down, And in salute, full courteously they lout. The foremost word of all Blanc-ondrines' spake, And to the king. May God preserve you safe, the all-glorious, To whom ye have bound to pray. Proud Marsilly's this message bids me say, Much hath he sought to find salvation's way. Out of his wealth meet presents would he make. Lions and bears and grey hounds leashed on chain. Thousand mewed hawks, seven hundred dromedres, Four hundred mules his silver shall convey. Fifty wagons you'll need to bear away. Golden bisance, such store of proved assay. Wear with full tail your soldiers you can pay. Now in this land you've been too long a day. Hire you to France, return again to ex. Thus saith my lord, he'll follow to that way. That emperor towards God, his arms he raised, Lowered his head, began to meditate. That emperor inclined his head full low, Hasty in speech he never was but slow. His custom was, at his leisure he spoke, When he looks up his face is very bold. He says to them, Good tidings have you told, King Marsilis hath ever been my foe. These very words you have before me told, In what measure of faith am I to hold? That Sarazin says, Hostages he'll show, Ten shall you take, or fifteen or a score, Though he be slain a son of mine shall go. Any there be you'll have more nobly borne To your palace in Uriel when you go. At Michael's feast, called in periculo, My lord hath said, Thither will he follow, even to your baths, That God for you hath wrought. There is he feigned the Christian faith to know. Answers him, Charles, Still may he heal his soul. Clear shone the sun in a fair even tide, Those ten men's mules in stall he bade them tie, Also a tent in the orchard raised on high, Those messengers had lodging for the night, Dozen sergeants served after them a rite, Darkling they lie till comes the clear daylight, That emperor does with the morning rise, Mattons and mass are said then in his sight. Forth goes that king, and stays beneath a pine, Barons he calls, good counsel to define, For with his franks he's ever of a mind. That emperor beneath a pine he sits, Calls his barons his counsel to begin, Ogre the duke, that archbishop Turpin, Richard the old, and his nephew Henry, From Gascony the proof, Count Acolyne, Ted Bororim's and Milon his cousin, With him there were Girard's and also Jorin, And among them the Count Roland came in, And Oliver so proof and so gentle. Franks out of France a thousand chivalry, Guains came there, that wrought the treachery, The council then began, which ended ill. My lord's barons says the emperor then, Charles, King Marsilis hath sent me his messages, Out of his wealth he'll give me weighty masses, Greyhounds on leash and bears and lions also, Thousand mewed hawks and seven hundred camels, Four hundred mules with gold Arabian charged, Fifty wagons, yea more than fifty drawing, But into France demand he my departure, He'll follow me to X, where is my castle, There he'll receive the law of our salvation, Christian he'll be, and hold from me his marches, But I know not what purpose in his heart is. Then say the Franks, this seems us act with caution. The temporal hath ended now his speech, The counter allowance he never will agree, Quick to reply he springs upon his feet, And to the king. Believe not, Marsilis, seven years since when into Spain came we, I conquered you noples, also comibles, And took Valtern and all the land of Pine, And Balaguer and Tuel and Césilis, Traitor in all his ways was Marsilis, Of his pagans he sent you then fifteen, Bearing in hand their olive branches green, Who even as now these very words did speak. You of your Franks a council did decree, Praise they that your words that foolish were indeed. Two of your counts did to the pagan speed, Besson was one and the other Bersili, Their heads he took on the hill by Haltili. War have you waged, so on to war proceed, To Saragus lead forth your great army, All your life long if need be lie in siege, Vengeance for those the felons loo to wreak. That emperor he sits with lowering front, He clasps his chin, his beard his fingers tug, Good word nor bad, his nephew not one. Franks hold their peace, but only Guernelun Springs to his feet and comes before Calun, Right hortily his reason he's begun, and to the king. Believe not any one, my word nor theirs, Safe whence your good shall come, Since he sends word that King Marsilion, Homage he'll do by finger and by thumb. Throughout all Spain your writ alone shall run, Next he'll receive our rule of Christendom. Who shall advise this bidding be not done, Deserves not death, since all to death must come. Council of pride is wrong, we fought enough, Leave we the fools, and with the wise be one. And after him came names out the third, Better vassal there was not in the world, And to the king. Now rightly have you heard, Gawain the Count, what answer he returned. Wisdom was there, but let it well be heard. King Marsilis in war is overturned, His castles all and ruin have you hurled, With catapults his ramparts have you burst, Vanquished his men and all his cities burned, Him who entreats your pity do not spurn. Sinners were they that would to war return. With hostages his faith he would secure. Let this great war no longer now endure. Well said the Duke, Frank's utter in their turn. My Lord's barons say whom shall we send up, To Saragut to King Marsilion? Answers Duke Neems. I'll go there for your love, Give me there for the wand, also the glove. Answers the King. Old man of wisdom prof, By this white beard, and as these cheeks are rough, You're not this year so far from me remove. Go sit you down, for none hath called you up. My Lord's barons say whom now can we send To the Sarazen that Saragut defends? Answers Roland's. I might go very well. Search you'll not, says Oliver, his friend, For your courage is fierce unto the end, I am afraid you would misapprehend. If the King wills it, I might go there well. Answers the King. Be silent both on bench. Your feet nor his, I say, shall that way wend. Nay, by this beard that you have seen grow blench, The dozen peers by that would stand condemned. Franks hold their peace. You'd seen them all silent. Turpents of reins is risen from his rank, Sows to the King. In peace now leave your Franks. For seven years you've lingered in this land. They have endured much pain and sufferance. Give Sire to me the clove, also the wand. I will seek out the Spanish Sarazand. For I believe his thoughts I understand. That Emperor Answers intolerant. Go sit you down on yonder silken mat, And speak no more until that I command. Franks Chevaliers, says the Emperor then, Charles, Choose ye me out of baron from my marches, To mustily shall carry back my answer. Then says Rolandz, there's Gawainz, my good father. Answer the Franks. For he can wisely manage, so let him go, There's none you should send rather. And that Count Gawainz is very full of anguish. Off from his neck he flings the pelts of Martin, And on his feet stands clear in silken garment. Proud face he had, his eyes with colour sparkled. Fine limbs he had, his ribs were broadly arched. So fair he seemed that all the court regarded. Says to Rolandz, Fool! Wherefore art so wrathful? All men know well that I am thy good father. Thou hast decreed to Marsilion I travel. Then if God grant that I return hereafter, I'll follow thee with such a force of passion That will endure so long as life may last thee. Answers Rolandz. Thou art full of pride and madness. All men know well I take no thought for slander. But some wise man surely should bear the answer. If the king will I'm ready to go rather. Answers him Gawainz. Thou shalt not go for me, Thou art not my man nor am I lord of thee. Charles commands that I do his decree To Sarah Goose going to Marsilie. There I will work a little trickery. This mighty wrath of mine are thus let free. When Rolandz heard began to laugh for glee. When Gawainz sees that Rolandz laughs at it, Such grief he has for rage he's like to split. A little more and he has lost his wit. Says to that count, I love you not a bit. A false judgment you bore me when you did. Right Emperor you see me where you sit. I will your word accomplish as you bid. To Sarah Goose I must repair, Tis plain. Whence who goes there returns no more again. Your sister's hand in marriage have I tain. And I have a son, there is no prettier swain. Baldwin, men say he shows the nightly strain. To him I leave my honors and domain. Care well for him, who look for me in vain. Answers him, Charles. Your heart is too humane. When I command, time is to start a main. Then says the King. Gawainz before me stand, and take from me the glove, Also the wand. For you have heard your chosen by the Franks. Sire answers Gawainz. All this is from Rolandz. I'll not love him so long as I'm a man, Nor Oliver who goes at his right hand. The dozen peers for they are of his band, All I defy as in your sight I stand. Then says the King. Over intolerant, now certainly you go when I command. And go I can, yet have I no warrant, Basil had none, nor his brother Basant. His right hand glove that Emperor holds out, But the Count Gawainz elsewhere would feign be found. When he should take it falls upon the ground. Myrma the Franks. God what may that mean now? By this message great loss shall come about. Lordings says Gawainz. You'll soon have newser now. Now Gawainz said. Give me your order, Sire. Since I must go, why need I linger I? Then said the King. Place his name and mine. With his right hand he has absolved and signed. Then to his care the wand and brief confides. Gawainz the Count goes to his hostelry. Finds for the road his garments and his gear. All of the best he takes that may appear. Spillers of fine gold he fastens on his feet. And to his side mergals his sword of steel. On patch brun his charger next he leaps. His uncle holds the stirrup, Grenamere. Then you had seen so many knights to weep, who all exclaim, Unlucky Lord indeed, in the King's court these many years you've been, noble vassal, they say that you have seen. He that for you this journey has decreed, King Charlemagne will never hold him dear. The Count Rolant he should not so have deemed, knowing you were born of very noble breed. After they say, us too, Sire, shall he lead. Then answers Gawainz, not so the Lord be pleased, far better one than many knights should bleed. To front the dutes, my lords, you soon shall speed. On my behalf my gentle wife you'll greet, and Pinnabelle, who is my friend and peer, and Baldwin, my son, whom you have seen, his rites accord and help him in his need. Rides down the road, and on his way goes he. Gawainz canters on and halts beneath a tree, where Sarazins assembled he may see, with Blancondrines who abides his company. Cunning and keen they speak then, each to each. Says Blancondrines, Charles, what a man is he, who conquered Pouill and the whole of Calabary. Into England he crossed the bitter sea, to the holy pope restored again his fee. What seeks he now of us in our country? Then answers Gawainz, so great courage hath he, never was man against him might succeed. Says Blancondrines, gentle the francs are found, yet a great wrong these dukes do, and these counts, unto their Lord being in council proud. Him and themselves they harry and confound. Gawainz replies, there is none such without, only Rolandz, whom shame will yet find out. Once in the shade the king had sate him down, his nephew came in sack of iron brown. Spoils had he won, beyond by carcassonne. Held in his hand an apple red and browned. Behold, faecaire said Rolandz as he bowed, of all earth's kings I bring you hear the crowns. His cruel pride must shortly him confound, each day towards death he goes a little down, when he be slain shall peace once more abound. Says Blancondrines, a cruel man, Rolandz, that would bring down to bondage every man, and challenges the peace of every land. With what people takes he this task in hand? And answers Gawainz, the people of the francs, they love him so, for men he'll never want. Silver and gold he showers upon his band, charges and mules, garments and silken mats. The king himself holds all by his command. From hence to the east he'll conquer sea and land. Cantered so far than Blancondrines and Gawainz, till each by each a covenant had made, and sought a plan, how Rolandz might be slain. Cantered so far by valley and by plain, to Saragouce beneath a cliff they came. Their foldstool stood in a pine-tree shade, enveloped all in Alexandrine veils. There was the king that held the whole of Espain, twenty thousand of Sarazins his train. Nor was there one but did his speech contain, eager for news till they might hear the tale, haste into sight than Blancondrines and Gawainz. Blancondrines comes before Marcellion, holding the hand of County Gwenolyn. Says to the king, Lord save you, Sire Mahon, and a pollen whose holy laws he'll run. Your message we delivered to Charlon. Both his two hands he raised against the sun, praising his god, but answer made he none. He sends you hear his noblest borne barren, greatest in wealth that out of France is come. From him you'll hear if peace shall be, or none. Speak, said Marcellion, we'll hear him every one. But the Count Gwenolyn's did deeply meditate. Cunning and keen began at length and spake, even as one that knoweth well the way. And to the king, may God preserve you safe, the all glorious to whom we're bound to pray. Proud Charlemagne this message bids me say, you must receive the holy Christian faith and yield in fee one half the lands of Spain. If to accord this tribute you disdain, taken by force and bound in iron chain, you will be brought before his throne at X, judged and condemned you'll be and shortly slain. Yes, you will die in misery and shame. King Marcellis was very sore afraid, snatching a dart with golden feathers gay. He made to strike. They turned aside his aim. King Marcellis is turned at white with rage. His feathered dart he brandishes and shakes. Gawain's beholds, his sword in hand he takes, two fingers width from scabbard bears the blade, and says to it, O clear and fair and brave, before this king in court will so behave, that the Emperor of France shall never say, in a strange land I'd thrown my life away, before these chiefs thy temper had assayed. Let us prevent at this fight, the Pagan say. Then Sarazins implored him so, the chiefs, on the foldstool, Marcellis took his seat. Greatly you harm our cause, says the Al-Khalif, when on this Frank your vengeance you would wreak. Rather you should listen to hear him speak. Sire Gawain says, to suffer I am meek. I will not fail for all the gold God keeps. Nay, should this land its treasure pile in heaps, but I will tell so long as I be free, what shall amain that royal majesty bids me and form his mortal enemy. Gawain's had on a cloak of sable skin, and over it a veil Alexandrine. These he throws down, they're held by Blanc-on-Drine. But not his sword, he'll not leave hold of it. In his right hand he grafts the golden hilt. The Pagan say, a noble baron this. Before the king's face Gawain's drawing near, says to him, Sire, wherefore this rage and fear, seeing you are, by Charles, of Frank's the chief, hidden to hold the Christian's right belief. One half of Spain he'll render as your thief, the rest Roland's his nephew shall receive. Proud Parsner and him you'll have indeed. If you will not to Charles this tribute seed, to you he'll come and Saragus besiege, take you by force and bind you hands and feet. Bear you outright, even unto ex his seat. You will not then on Palfre nor on steed, Janet nor Mule come cantering in your speed. Flung you will be on a vile sumter beast. Tried there and judged, your head you will not keep. Our emperor has sent you here this brief. He's given it into the pagans' neef. Now Massiles is turned white with ire, he breaks the seal and casts the wax aside, looks in the brief, sees what the king did right. Charles commands who holds all France by might, I bear in mind his bitter grief and ire. Tis of Bessane and his brother Bessile, whose heads I took on the hill by Heltilly. If I would save my body now alive, I must dispatch my uncle the Alka life. Charles will not love me ever otherwise. After there speaks his son to Massiles, says to the king, in madness spoke this white, so wrong he was to spare him were not right. Leave him to me, I will that wrong requite. When Gawain's ire's, he draws his sword outright, against the trunk he stands beneath that pine. The king is gone into that orchard then, with him he takes the best among his men, and Blanc-on-drenes there shows his snowy hair, and Gerselet was the king's son and ire. And the Alka leaf, his uncle and his friend, says Blanc-on-drenes, summon the Frank again! In our service his faith to me he's pledged. Then says the king, so let him now be fetched. He's taken Gawain's by his right finger ends, and through the orchard straight to the king they wend, of trees in there make lawless parliament. End of verses 1 to 38 Verses 39 to 87 of the Song of Roland. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Joy Chan. The Song of Roland. Anonymous. Translated by Charles Kenneth Scott Moncrief. Verses 39 to 87. Fair Master Gawain's says then King Massily, I did you now a little trickery. Making to strike I showed my great fury. These sable skins take as amends for me. Five hundred pounds would not their worth redeem. Tomorrow night the gift shall ready be. Gawain answers him, I'll not refuse it me. May God be pleased to show you his mercy. Then says Massily. Gawain's the truth to Ken. Minded I am to love you very well. Of Charlemagne I wish to hear you tell. He's very old, his time is nearly spent. Two hundred years he's lived now, as Tis said. Through many lands his armies he has led. So many blows his buckled shield has shed. And so rich kings he's brought to beg their bread. What time from war will he draw back instead? And answers Gawain's. Not so was Charles Bred. There is no man that sees and knows him well, but will proclaim the emperor's hardy head. Praise him as best I may, when all is said. Remain untold, honour and goodness yet. His great valour, how can it be countered? Him with such grace hath God illuminated. Better to die than leave his banner at. The pagan says, You make me marvel sore at Charlemagne who is so old and whore. Two hundred years they say he's lived and more. So many lands he's led his armies o'er. So many blows from spears and lances borne. And so rich kings brought down to beg and sawn. When will time come that he draws back from war? Never says Gawain's. So long as lives his nephew. No such vassal goes neath the dome of heaven. And proof also is Oliver his henchman. The dozen peers whom Charles holds so precious. These are his guards with other thousands twenty. Charles is secure. He holds no man in terror. Says Sarazin. My wonder yet is grand, at Charlemagne, who whore he is and blanched. Two hundred years and more I understand he has gone forth and conquered many a land. Such blows hath borne from many a trenchant lance. Vanquished and slain of kings so rich a band. When will time come that he from war draws back? Never says Gawain's. So long as lives Roland's. From hence to the east there is no such vassal. And proof also Oliver his comrade. The dozen peers he cherishes at hand. These are his guard with twenty thousand francs. Charles is secure. He fears no living man. Fair Master Gawain's says Massiles the king. Such men are mine. Fairer than tongue can sing. Of nights I can four hundred thousand bring. So I may fight with Franks and with their king. Answers him Gawain's. Not on this journeying save of pagans a great loss suffering. Leave you the fools wise counsel following. To the emperor such wealth of treasure give that every Frank at once is marvelling. For twenty men that you shall now send in to France the deuce he will repair that king. In the rearward will follow after him both his nephew Count Roland as I think and Oliver that courteous paladin. Dead other counts believe me if you will. Charles will behold his great pride perishing. For battle then he'll have no more the skill. Fair Master Gawain says then King Massile. Show the device how Roland's lane may be. Answers him Gawain's. That will I soon make clear. The king will cross by the good pass of seas a guard who'll set behind him in the rear. His nephew there Count Roland that rich peer and Oliver in whom he well believes. Twenty thousand Franks in their company five score thousand pagans upon them lead. Franks unawares in battle you shall meet. Bruised in bled white the race of Franks shall be. I do not say but yours shall also bleed. Battle again deliver and with speed. So first or last from Roland you'll be freed. You will have wrought a high chivalrous deed. Nor all your life no war again but peace. Could one achieve that Roland's life was lost? Charles' right arm were from his body torn. Though there remained his marvellous great host he'd not again assemble in such force. Terror major would languish in repose. Massile has heard. He's kissed him on the throat. Next he begins to undo his treasure store. Said Massile but now what more said they? No faith in words by earth unbound I lay. Swear me the death of Roland on that day. Then answered Gouayne so be it as you say. On the relics are in his sword mergals. Treason he's sawn for sawn his faith away. Was a fold still there made of olefant? A book thereon Massile's bade them plant. In it their laws, Mahams and Hovergoltz. He's sawn thereby the Spanish Sarazand in the rearward if he shall find Roland. Battle to himself and all his band. And verily he'll slay him if he can. And answered Gouayne so be it as you command. In haste there came a pagan Valderbrunn. Warden had been to King Massileun. Smiling and clear he said to Guernelun, Take now this sword and better sword has none. Into the hilt a thousand coins a run. To you fair sir, I offer it in love. Give us your aid from Roland the Baron that in rearward against him we may come. Gouayne's the count answers. It shall be done. Then cheek and chin kissed each the other one. After there came a pagan Climarines. Smiling and clear to Guernelun begins. Take now my helm better is none than this. But give us aid on Roland the Marquis by what device we may dishonour bring. It shall be done, Count Gouayne's answered him. On mouth and cheek then each the other kissed. In haste there came the Queen Forth Brimmermond. I love you well, sir, said she to the Count. For prize you dear my lord and all around. Here for your wife I have two brooches found. Amethysts and jessents in golden mount. Warworth are they than all the wealth of Rome. Your Emperor has none such I'll be bound. He's taken them and in his hose and pouched. The King now calls Maldives that guards his treasure. Tribute for child say is it now made ready. He answers him, I sigh for here is plenty. Silver and gold on hundred camels seven and twenty men the gentlest under heaven. Musselies arm Gouayne's shoulder doth enfold. He said to him, you are both wise and bold. Now by the law that you most sacred hold let not your heart and our behalf grow cold. Out of my store I'll give you wealth untold, charging ten mules with fine Arabian gold. I'll do the same for you, new year and old. Take then the keys of the city so large this great tribute present you first to Charles. Then get me placed Roland's in the rearward. If him I find in valley or in pass battle I'll give him that shall be the last. Answers him Gouayne's. My time is nearly past. His charger mounts and on his journey starts. The Temporor draws near to his domain. He has come down unto the city Galnae. The Count Roland has broken it and tamed and hundred years its ruins shall remain. Of Grenolin the king for news is feign and for tribute from the great land of Spain. At dawn of day just as the light grows plain into their camp has come the county Gouayne. In morning time is risen the Emperor. Matins en masse he's heard and made his prayer. On the green grass before the tent his chair where Roland stood and that bold Oliver and many others there. Gouayne's arrived the Felon Perjurer begins to speak with very cunning air says to the king God keep you sigh I swear of Saragouce the keys to you I bear tribute I bring you very great and rare and twenty men look after them with care. Proud Mercedes bade me this word declare that Al-Khalif is uncle you must spare. My own eyes saw four hundred thousand there in Hobart's dressed closed helms that gleamed in the air and golden hilt upon their swords they bear. They followed him right to the sea welfare. Maseel they left that with their faithful swear for Christendom they've neither wish nor care. But the fourth league they had not compassed air break from the north tempest and storm in the air. Then where they drowned they will no more appear were he alive I should have brought him here the pagan king and truth sire bids you here here you have seen one month pass of this year he'll follow you to France to your empire he will accept the laws you hold and fear joining his hands will do you homage there kingdom of Spain will hold as you declare then says the king now God be praised I swear well have you wrought and rich reward shall wear bids through the host the thousand trumpets blare frankly their lines the Sumter beasts a year towards France the deuce all on their way repair Charles the great that land of Spain had wasted her castle's tain her cities violated then said the king his war was now abated towards deuce France that emperor has hasted upon a lance roll out his ensign razored high on a cliff against the skies was placed the Franks in camp through all that country baited canted pagans through those wide valleys raced Hoburks they wore and sacks with iron plated swords to their sides were good their helms were laced Lancers made sharp as scutians newly painted there in the mists beyond the peaks the day of doom for a hundred thousand waited God what a grief Franks know not what is fated passes the day the darkness is grown deep that emperor rich Charles lies asleep dreams that he stands in the great pass of seas in his two hands his ashen sphere he sees Gawain's the count that sphere from him doth sees brandishes it and twists it with such ease that flown into the sky the flinders seem Charles leaps on nor wakens from his dream and after this another vision saw in France at ex in his chapel once more that his right arm an evil bear did know out of Ardennes he saw a leopard stalk his body dear did savagely assault but then there dashed a harrier from the hall leaping in the air he sped to Charles call first the right ear of that grim bear he caught and furiously the leopard next he fought of battle great the Franks then seemed to talk yet which might win they knew not in his thought Charles leaps on nor wakens he for ought passes the night and opens the clear day that emperor canters in brave array looks through the host often in every way my Lord's barons at length doth Charles say you see the pass along these valleys straight judge for me now who shall and you would wait there's my good son Roland's then answers Gawain's you've no Baron whose valor is as great when the King hears he looks upon him straight and says to him you devil incarnate into your heart has come a mortal hate and who shall go before me in the gate ogre is here of Denmark answers Gawain's you've no Baron were better in that place the Count Roland's hath heard himself decreed speaks then to Gawain's by rule of courtesy good father sir I ought to hold you dear since the rearward you have for me decreed Charles the King will never lose by me as I know well nor charger nor poultry Janet nor mule that canter can with speed nor some to horse will lose nor any steed but my sword's point shall first exact their need answers him Gawain's I know it is true indeed when Roland heard that he should be rearward and furiously he spoke to his good father aha culvert begotten of a bastard thinkest the glove will slip from me hereafter as then from thee the wand fell before Charles right Emperor says the Baron Roland's give me the bow you carry in your hand near in reproach I know will any man say that it fell and lay upon the land as Gawain's let fall when he received the wand that Emperor with lowered front doth stand he tugs his beard his chin is in his hand tears fill his eyes he cannot them command and after that is come Duke Neame's furth better vassal there was not upon earth says to the King right well now have you heard the Count Roland's bitter Roth is stirred for that on him the rearward is conferred no Baron else have you would do that work give him the bow your hands have bent at first then find him men his company are worth gives it the King and Roland burrs it furth that Emperor Roland's then calleth he fair nephew mine know this in verity half of my host I leave you presently retain you them your safeguard this shall be then says the Count I will not have them me confound me God if I fail in the deed good valiant Franks a thousand score I'll keep go through the pass in all security while I'm alive there's no man you need fear the Count Roland's has mounted his charger beside him came his comrade Oliver also Gerard and the proud Count Gerier and Otis came and also Beringier old Anse and Sansoun too came there Gerard also of Rossillon the fierce and there is come the Gascon Giliere now by my head I'll go the archbishop swears and I'm with you says the Count Gaultier I'm Roland's man I may not leave him there a thousand score they choose of Chevalier Gaulter de whom he calls that Count Roland's a thousand Franks take out of France our land dispose them so among ravines and crags that the Emperor lose not a single man Gaulter replies I'll do as you command a thousand Franks come out of France their land at Gaulter's word they scar ravines and crags they'll not come down however the news be bad if from their sheaths sword seven hundred flash King Armory Belsern for kingdom had on the evil day he met them in combat high other peaks the valleys shadowful swally the rocks the narrow is wonderful Franks past that day all very sorrowful 15 leagues round the rumor of them grew when they were calm and terror major knew saw Gaskinny their land and their seniors remembering their fives and their honors their little maids their gentle wives and true there was not one that shed not tears for Rue beyond the rest Charles was of anguish fall in Spanish part he'd left his dear nephew pity him seized he could but weep for Rue the dozen peers are left behind in Spain Franks in their band a thousand score remain no fear have these death hold they in disdain that emperor goes into France a pace under his cloak he feign would hide his face up to his side comes cantering Duke Niemes says to the king what grief upon new ways Charles answers him he's wrong that question makes so great my grief I cannot but complain France is destroyed by the device of Gawain this night I saw by an angels vision plane between my hands he break my spear in twain great fear I have since Roland must remain I've left him there upon a border strange God if he's lost I'll not outlive that shame Charles the great he cannot but deplore and with him Franks and hundred thousand mourn before Roland's have marvelous remorse the felon Gawain's had treacherously wrought from pagan kin has had his rich reward silver and gold and veils and silken cloths camels lions with many a mule and horse Barons from Spain King Marsili's hath called counts and viscounts and dukes and Alma cause and the admirals and cadets nobly worn within three days come hundreds thousands for in Saragut they sound the drums of war my home they raise upon their highest tower pagan is none that does not him adore they cancer then with great contention through certain land valleys and mountains on to love the Franks they see the gonfalons being in rear with those dozen companions they will not fail battle to do anon Marsili's nephew was come before the bound riding a mule he goes it with a wand smiling and clear his uncle's ear demands fair lord and king since in your service glad I have endured sorrow and sufferance have fought in field and victories have had give me a fee the right to smite Roland's I'll slay him clean with my good trenchant lance if Muhammad will be my shore warrant Spain I'll set free deliver all her land from pass of Asper even unto Durastant Charles will grow faint and recreate the Franks there'll be no war while you're a living man Marsili gives the glove into his hand Marsil's nephew holding in hand the glove his uncle calls with reason proud enough their Lord and King great gift from you I've won choose now for me eleven more barons so I may fight those dozen companions first before all their answers fall for one brother he was to King Marsilion fair sir nephew go you and I at once then verily this battle shall be done the rearward of the great host of Carlon it is decreed we deal them now they're doomed King Corsably has come from the other part barbarian and steeped in evil art he's spoken then as fits a good vessel for all God's gold he would not seem coward haste into view Malpremy of Brigalle faster than a horse upon his feet he can dart before Marsil he cries with all his heart my body I will show at Ronceval find I Roland I'll slay him without fault an admiral is there of Belegate clear face and proud and body nobly bred since first he was upon his horse mounted his arms to bear has shown great lusty head in vesselage he is well-famous said Christian were he he'd shown good baron head before Marsilion loud has he shouted to Ronceval my body shall be led find I Roland then is he surely dead and Oliver and all the other twelve Frank shall be slain in grief and richness Charles the great is old now and doted weary will be and make no more war again Spain shall be ours in peace and quietness King Marsilis has heard and thanks him well and Alma core is there of Maureen more felon none in all the land of Spain before Marsil his wanting boast hath made to Ronceval my company I'll take a thousand score with shields and Lancers brave find I Roland's with death I'll him a quaint day shall not dawn but Charles will make his plate from the other part turges of turtle lows he was a count that city was his own Christians he would the massacre everyone before Marsil among the rest is gone says to the King let not this may be shown my homes more worth than St. Peter of Rome serve we him well then fame and field will own to Ronceval to meet Roland's I'll go from death he'll fight his warranty and none see him my sword that is both good and long with Durandal and lay it well across you'll hear the times to which the prize is gone Frank shall be slain whom we descend upon Charles the old will suffer grief and wrong no more on earth his crown will he put on from the other part as cremes of Valtran a Sarazer that land was his as well before Marsil he cries amid the press to Ronceval I'll go pride to make less find I Roland's will not bear fence his head no Oliver that hath the others lead the dozen peers condemned are to death Frank shall be slain and France lie deserted of good vassals will Charles be richly bled from the other part a pagan a Sturgans a Sramarise also was his comrade felons were these and traitors miscreant then said Marsil my Lord's before me stand into the past you'll go to Ronceval give me your aid and fever lead my band they answer him sire even as you command we will assault Olivier and Roland the dozen peers from death have no warrant for these our swords are trusty and trenchant in scalding blood will die their blades scarlet Frank shall be slain and Charles be right sad terror major will give into your hand come there sir king truly you'll see all that yay the emperor will give into your hand running there came Margueris of Sibyl who holds the land by Cadiz to the sea for his beauty the ladies hold him dear who looks on him with him her heart is pleased when she beholds she can but smile for glee was no pagan of such high chivalry comes with the press above them all cries he be not at all dismayed King Marsilie to Ronceval I'll go and Roland's he nor Oliver may escape a lie from me the dozen peers are doomed to martyre see here the sword whose hilt is gold indeed I got in gift from the admiral of primes in scarlet blood I pledge it shall be steeped Frank shall be slain and France abased be to Charles the old with his great blossoming beard day shall not dawn but brings him rage and grief ear a year pass or France we shall have seized till we can lie in the Berg of St. Denise the pagan king has bowed his head down deep from the other part Chamoubles of Munegré right to the ground his hair swept either way he for a jest would bear a heavier weight than four yoked mules beneath their load that strain that land he had God's curse on it was plain no sunshine there nor grew there any grain no dew fell there nor any shower of rain the very stones were black upon that plane and many say that devils there remain says Chamoubles my sword is in its place at Ronceval Scarlet I will it stain find I Roland's the proud upon my way I'll fall on him or trust me not again at Durandale I'll conquer with this blade Frank shall be slain and France a desert maid the dozen peers are at this word away five score thousand of Sarazans they take who keenly press and on to battle haste in a fur would they gear they ready make ready they make Hobok Sarazanese that folded are the greater part in three and they lace on good helm Sarah Gussies good on their sores of tried steel via knees fine shields they have and spears valentine's and white blue red the unscience take the breeze they've left their mules behind in their pull freeze their charges mount and canter knee by knee fair shines the Sun the day is bright and clear light bombs again from all their polished gear a thousand horns they sound more proud to seem great is the noise the Franks it's echo here says Oliver companion I believe Sarazans now in battle must we meet answers Roland's God grant us then the fee for our King's sake well must we quit us here man for his Lord should suffer great disease most bitter cold endure and burning heat his hair and skin should offer up at need now must we each lay on most heartily so evil songs near song of us shall be pagans are wrong Christians are right indeed evil example will never come of me Oliver mounts upon a lofty peak looks to his right along the valley green the pagan tribes approaching their appear he calls Roland's companion to see what sound is this come out of Spain we hear what Hobok's bright what helmets these that gleam they'll smite our Franks with fury past belief he knew it Gawain's the traitor and the thief who chose us out before the King our chief answers the count Roland's Olivier sees that man is my good father hold by peace upon a peak is Oliver mounted kingdom of Spain he sees before him spread and Sarazans so many gathered their helmets gleam with Gola due lead also their shields their Hoboks offered also their swords unsigns on spears fixed rank beyond rank could not be numbered so many there no measure could he set in his own heart he saw a stunnish head fast as he could down from the peak has sped comes to the Franks to them his tail had said says Oliver pagans from there I saw never on earth did any man see more against us their shields and hundred thousand bore that laced helms and shining Hobok's war and bolt upright their bright brown spearheads Sean battle will have as never was before Lords of the Franks God keep you in valor so hold your ground we be not overborn then say the Franks shame take him that goes off if we must die then perish one and all says Oliver pagans in force abound while of us Franks but very few I count comrade Roland your horn I pray you sound if Charles here he'll turn his armies round answers Roland's a fool I should be found in France the deuce would perish my renown with your and our lay on thick and stout in blood the blade to its golden hilt I'll drown felon pagans of the past shall not come down I pledge you now to death they all are bound comrade Roland sound the elephant I pray if Charles here the host will turn again will suck at us our king and baronage answers Roland's never by God I say for my misdeeds shall kinsmen hear the blame nor France nor deuce fall into evil fame rather stout blows with your and our lay with my good saw that by my side doth sway to bloody door you shall behold the blade felon pagans are gathered to their shame I pledge you now to death they doomed today comrade Roland's once sound your elephant if Charles here we're in the past he stands I pledge you now they'll turn again the Franks never by God then answers him Roland's shall it be said by any living man that for pagans I took my horn in hand never by me shall men reproach my clan when I am common to the battle grand and blows lay on by hundred by thousand of during our bloodied you'll see the brand Franks are good men like vessels brave they'll stand nay Spanish men from death have no warrant says Oliver in this I see no blame I have beheld the Sarazans of Spain covered with them the mountains and the veils the way I saw and all the farthest planes a muster great they've made this people strange we have of men a very little tale answers Roland's my anger is inflamed never please God his angels and his saints never by me shall Frankage Vala fail rather I'll die than shame shall me attain therefore strike on the emperor's love to gain pride hath Roland's wisdom Olivia hath and both of them show marvellous courage once they are hoarse once they have dawned their arms rather they die than from the battle pass good other counts and lofty their language felon pagans come cantering in their wrath says Oliver behold and see Rollins these are right near but Charles is very far on the Oliphant day now to sound a blast were the king here we should not fear damage only look up towards the pass of Asper in sorrow there you'll see the whole rearward who does this deed as no more afterward answers Roland's utter not such outrage evil his heart that is in thought coward we shall remain firm in our place installed from us the blows shall come from us the assault end of verses 39 to 87 verses 88 to 138 of the song of Roland this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Joy Chan the song of Roland anonymous translated by Charles Kenneth Scott Moncrief verses 88 to 138 when Roland sees that now must be combat more fears he's found than lion or leopard the Franks he calls and Oliver commands now say no more my friends nor thou comrade that Emperor who left us Franks on guard a thousand score stout men he set apart and well he knows not one will prove coward man for his Lord should suffer with good heart of bitter cold and great heat bear the smart his blood let drain and all his flesh be scarred strike with thylance and I would do and all with my good sword that was the king's reward so if I die who has it afterward noble vassals he well may say it was from the other part is the Archbishop Turpin he pricks his horse and melts upon a hill calling the Franks sermon to them begins my Lord's barons Charles left us here for this he is our king well may we die for him to Christendom good service offering battle you'll have you all are bound to it for with your eyes you see the Sarazans pray for God's grace confessing him your sins for your soul's health I'll absolution give so though you die bless martyrs shall you live thrones you shall win in the great parody the Franks dismount upon the ground are lit that Archbishop God's benediction gives for their penance good blows to strike he bids the Franks arise and stand upon their feet they're well absolved and from their sins made clean and the Archbishop has signed them with God's seal and next they mount upon their charges keen by rule of nights they have put on their gear for battle or apparel'd as is meat the count rollout cause Oliver and speaks comrade and friend now clearly have you seen that gremlin had got us by deceit gold hath he tain much wealth is his to keep that emperor of vengeance for us must wreak King must elies hath bargained for us cheap at the sword's point he yet shall pay our need to Spanish pass is relance now going on veil on teeth his good steed galloping he is well armed pride is in his bearing he goes so brave his spear in hand holding he goes its point against the sky turning a gon phalon all white there on his pinned down to his hand flutters the golden fringe noble his limbs his face clear and smiling his companion goes after following the men of France they warrant find in him proudly he looks towards the Sarazins and to the Frank sweetly himself humbling and courteously has said to them this thing my lord's parents go now your pace holding pagans have come great martyrdom seeking noble and fair reward this day shall bring was never won by any Frankish King upon these words the hosts are come touching speaks Oliver no more now will I say your oliphant to sound it do not dain since from Kallun you'll never more have aid he has not heard nor thought of his so brave those with him there are never to be blamed so counter on with what prowess you may lords and barons firmly your ground maintain be minded well I pray you in God's name start blows to strike to give as you shall take forget the cry of Charles we never may upon this word the Franks cry out a main who then had heard them all my joy acclaim of assillage might well recall the tale they can't afford God with what proud parade pricking their spurs the better speed to gain they go to strike but other thing could they but Sarazins are not at all afraid pagans and Frank's you'd see them now engaged Marceil's nephew his name is Aelroth first of them all canters before the host says of our Franks these ill words as he goes felons of France so here and us you close betrayed you has he that to your guard you ought mad is the king who left you in this post so shall the fame of France the deuce be lost and the right arm from Charles body torn when Roland hears what Ragey has by God his deed he spurs gallops with great effort he goes that count to strike with all his force the shield he breaks the Hoboic seam on soes slices the heart and shatters up the bones all of the spine he severs with that blow and with his spear the soul from body throws so well he's pinned he shakes in the air that course on his spears hilt his flung it from the horse so in two halves Aelroth's neck he broke nor left him yet they say but rather spoke avon culvert a madman Charles is not no treachery was ever in his thought proudly he did who left us in this post the fame of France the deuce shall not be lost strike on the Franks ours are the foremost blows for we are right but these gluttons are wrong a duke there was his name was falferon brother was he to King Marcilion he held their land datans and abirans beneath the sky no more in crime felon between his eyes so broad was he in front a great half foot you'd measure there in full his nephew dead he's seen with grief enough comes through the press and wildly forth he runs allowed he shouts their cry the pagans use and to the Franks is right contrarious honor of France the deuce shall fail to us here's Oliver he's very furious his horse he pricks with both his golden spurs and goes to strike even as a barren doth the shield he breaks and through the Hobart cuts his ensigns fringe into the carcass thrusts on his spears hilt his flung it dead in dust looks on the ground sees glutton lying thus and says to him with reason proud enough from threatening culvert your mouth I've shut strike on the Franks right well will overcome mon joy he shouts towards the ensign of Kallan a king there was his name was course of lee barbarian and of a strange country he's called allowed to the other Saracens well may rejoin battle upon this field for of the Franks but very few are here and those are here we should account them cheap for Charles not one has any warranty this is the day when they their death shall meet has hurt him well that archbishop turpin no man he'd hate so much the sky beneath spurs of fine gold he pricks into his steed to strike that king by virtue great goes he the Hobart all unfarsens breaks the shield thrusts his great spear in through the carcass clean pins it so well he shakes it in its seat dead in the road he's flung it from his spear looks on the ground that glutton lying seas nor leaves him yet they say but rather speaks culvert pagan you lied now in your teeth Charles my lord our warrant is indeed none of our Franks have any mind to flee your companions all on this spot will keep I tell you news death shall you suffer here strike on the Franks fell none of you at need ours the first blow to God the glory be Mon joy he cries for all the camp to hear and Jérôme strikes malprémi of Brigard so his good shield is nothing worth at all shatters the boss was fashioned of crystal one half of it downward to earth flies off right to the flesh has through his Hobart torn on his good spear he has the carcass caught and with one blow that pagan downward falls the soul of him Satan away had born and his comrade Jérôme strikes the admiral the shield he breaks the Holberg unmetals and his good spear drives into his vitals so well he's pinned him clean through the carcass dead on the field he's flung from his hand says Oliver now is our battle grand sands in the Duke go strike that Alma core the shield he breaks with golden flowers tooled that good Hobart for him is nothing proof he sliced the heart the lungs and liver through and flung him dead as well or ill may prove says the Archbishop a baron stroke in truth and Anne say has let his charger run he goes to strike turges of Turtulus the shield he breaks its golden boss above the Hobart to its doubled male undoes his good spears point into the carcass runs so well he's thrust clean through the whole steel calms and from the hilt he's thrown him dead in dust then says Roland great prowess in that thrust and anglers the gas coin of bedel spurs on his horse let's fall the reins as well he goes to strike Escrimeza Veltrain the shield he breaks and shatters on his neck the Hobart to he has its chin guard rent between the armpits has pierced him through the breast on his spears hilt from saddle throws him dead after he says so are you turned to hell and Otis strikes a pagan estergant upon the shield before its leather band slices it through the white with the scarlet the Hobart to has torn its folds apart and his good spear thrusts clean through the carcass and flings it dead even as the horse goes past he says you have no word afterward and Beringer he strikes Escrimeza Veltrain the shield he breaks the Hobart tears and splits thrusts his stout spear through his middle and him flings down dead among a thousand Sarazins of their dozen peers ten have now been killed no more than to remain alive and quick being Chernubal and the Count Magariz Magariz is a very gallant night both fair and strong and swift he is and light he spurs his horse goes Oliver to strike and breaks his shield by the golden buckle bright along his ribs the Pagan spear doth glide God's his warrant his body has respite the shaft breaks off Oliver stays upright that other goes not stays him in his flight his trumpet sounds rallies his tribe to fight common the fight is now and marvelous the Count Roland's no way himself secures strikes with his spear long as the shaft endures by 15 blows it is clean broken through the Endurandal he bears his saber good spurs on his horse is gone to strike Chernubal the helmet breaks where bright carbuncles grew slices the cap and she is the locks in two slices also the eyes and the features the Hoburk white whose male was close of wolf down to the groin cuts all his body through to the saddle with beaten gold towards tooled upon the horse that sort of moment stood then sliced its spine no join there any new dead in the field among thick grass them through after he said culvert false step you moved from Muhammad your help will not come soon no victory for glutton's such as you the Count Roland he canters through the field holds during our he well can thrust and wield right great damage he's done the Sarazines you'd seen them one on other dead in heaps through all that place their blood was flowing clear in blood his arms were and his Hoburk steeped and bloodied or shoulders and neck his steed and Oliver goes on to strike with speed no blame that way deserve the dozen peers for all the Franks they strike and slay with heat pagans are slain some swoon there in their seats says the Archbishop good baronage indeed Bonjour he cries the call of Charles repeats and Oliver has canted through the crush broken his spear the truncheon still he thrusts going to strike a pagan mouserun flowers and gold are on the shield he cuts out of the head both the two eyes have burst and all the brains are fallen in the dust he flings in dead seven hundred Elsa Monk's then has he slain Turgeon and Estagus right to the hilt his spear in Flinders flew then says Roland companion what do you in such a fight this little strength in wood iron and steel should hear their valor proof where's your sword that halter clear I knew golden it's hilt where on a crystal grew says Oliver I had not if I drew time left to strike enough good blows and true then Oliver has drawn his mighty sword as his comrade had bidden and implored in nightly wise the blade to him was showed Justin his strikes that iron valleys Lord all of his head has down the middle shorn the carcass sliced the broidered suck has torn the good saddle that was with old adorned and through the spine has sliced that pagans horse dead in the field before his feet they fall says Roland now my brother are you call he'll love us for such blows our emperor on every side one joy you'd hear them roar that count jurin said on his horse sorrel on passers was Gerard there his friend they've loosed their reins together spurred and sped and go to strike a pagan Timorzel one on the shield on Hobok the other fell and their two spears went through the carcass well a fellow field amidst they've thrown him dead I do not know I never heard it said which of the two were Nimbler as they went aspera V was their son of borough and him their slew anglers of Bodel and the archbishop he slew them sigloreal the enchanter who before had been in hell where Jupiter bore him by a magic spell then Turpin says to us he's forfeited answers Roland the culvert is bested such blows brother Olivier I like well the battle grows more hard and harder yet Franks and pagans with marvellous onset each other strike and each himself defends so many shafts blood stained and shattered so many flags and enzymes tattered so many Franks lose their young lusty head who'll see no more their mothers nor their friends nor hosts of France that in the past attend Charles the great weeps therefore with regret what profits that no sucker shall they get evil service that day Gawain's rendered them to Saragou's going his own to sell after he lost his members and his head in court at X to gallows tree condemned and 30 more with him of his own kindred were hanged a thing they never did expect now marvellous and weighty the combat right well they strike Olivier and Roland a thousand blows come from the Archbishop's hand the dozen peers are nothing short of that with one accord join battle all the Franks pagans are slain by hundred by thousand who flies not then from death has no warrant will he or nil for goes the allotted span the Franks have lost the foremost of their band they'll see no more their fathers nor their clans nor shall amain where in the past he stands torment arose right marvellous in France tempest there was of wind and thunder black with rain and hail so much could not be spanned fell thunderbolts often on every hand and verily the earthquake in answer back from sent Michael of peril unto sands from besenkin to the harbour of grit sand no house stood there but straight its walls must crack in full midday the darkness was so grand save the sky split no light was in the land be held these things with terror every man and many said we in the judgment stand the end of time is presently at hand they spoke no truth they did not understand towards the great day of mourning for Roland the Franks strike on their hearts are good and stout pagans are slain a thousandfold in crowds left of five score not two thousands now says the archbishop our men are very proud no man on earth has more nor better found in chronicles of Franks is written down what vassalage he had our emperor then through the field they go their friends seek out and their eyes weep with grief and pain profound for kinsmen dear by hearty friendship bound King Marcellis and his great host draw round King Marcellis along a valley led the mighty host that he had gathered twenty columns that King had numbered with gleaming gold their helms were drooled shone to their shields and sarks embroidered sounded the charge seven thousand trumpets great was the noise through all that country went then said Roland's Olivia brother friend that felon Gawain's had sworn to achieve our death for his treason no longer is secret right great vengeance our emperor will get battle will have both long and keenly set never has man be held such armies met with your and all my sword I'll strike again and comrade you shall strike with halter clear these swords and land so many have we held battles with them so many brought to end no evil song shall air be sung or said when the Frank see so many there pagans on every side covering all the land often they call Olivia and Roland the dozen peers to be their safe warrant and the archbishop speaks to them as he can my Lord's Barons go thinking nothing bad for God I pray you fly not hence but stand lest evil songs of our valor men chant far better to her to perish in the van certain is our end is near attend beyond this day shall no more live one man but of one thing I give you good warrant blessed paradise to you now open stands by the innocence your thrones you there shall have upon these words grow bold again the Frank's there is not one but he Monjoy demands a Sarazen was there of Saragus of that city one half was his by use it was Clemarine's a man was nothing proof by Gwendolyn the count and oath he took and kissed his mouth in amity and truth gave him his sword and his car bangle to terror major he said to shame he'd put from the emperor his crown he would remove he saved his horse which he called Barba mush never so swift sparrow nor swallow flew he spurred him well and down the reins he threw going to strike and yell yeah of gascoon nor shield nor sark him any warrant proved the pagan spears point did his body wound he pinned him well and all the steel went through from the hilt flung him dead beneath his foot after he said good are they to confuse pagans strike on and so this press set loose God say the Frank's grief such a man to lose the count Rollins called upon Oliver so companion dead now as Angola then whom we'd know more valiant Chevalier answered that cat God let me him avenge spurs a fine gold into his horse drove then held held to clear with blood it's steel was read by virtue great to strike that pagan went brandished his blade the Sarazin upset the adversaries of God his soul bear fence next to his slain the Duke of Fein and sliced away a scababy his head and has unhorsed some seven Arabs else no good for those to go to war again then said Rollins my comrades shows anger so in my sight he makes me prize him well more dear by Charles for such blows are we held allowed he's cried strike on the Chevalier from the other part a pagan valdebron warden he'd been to King Marcellion and Lord by see your four hundred romance no sailor was but called his name upon Jerusalem he'd taken by treason violated the temple of Salomon the patriarch had slain before the fonts he'd pledged his oath by County Guernalon gave him his sword a thousand coins there on he sat his horse which he called Grammy Monde never so swift flew in the air falcon he's pricked him well with sharp spurs he had on going to strike in that rich Duke Sanson his shield has split his Hobok has undone the ensigns folds have through his body gone dead from the hilt out of his seat he's dropped pagan strike on for well will overcome God say the Franks grief for a brave Baron the count roll out when Sanson did he saw you may believe great grief he had therefore his horse he spurs galloped with great effort wields Durandal was worth fine gold and more goes as he may to strike that Baron bold above the helm that was embossed with gold slices the head the sock and all the course the good saddle that was embossed with gold he cuts deep through the backbone of his horse he slain them both blame him for that or Lord the pagan say it was hard on us that blow answers Roland's nay love you I cannot for on your side is arrogance and wrong out of a freak and African was come to his malchiant the son of King Malkad the beaten gold was all his armor done for all men's else it's Sean beneath the sun he sat his horse which he called salt perduate never so swift was any beast could run and on say upon the shield he struck the scarlet with the blue he sliced it up of his Hobok he's torn the folds and cut the steel and stock has through his body thrust dead is that count he's no more time to run then say the Franks Baron and evil luck swift through the field to open the archbishop past such shaven crown has never else sung mass who with his limbs such prowess might compass the pagan said God send the all that's bad one thou has slain for whom my heart is sad so his good horse forth at his bidding ran he struck him then on his shield Toledan until he flings him dead on the green grass from the other part was a pagan grandowns son of capoeir the king of Cappadoce he said his horse the which he called my more never so swift was any bird in course he's loosed the reins and spurring on that horse he's gone to strike Jiren with all his force the scarlet shield from his neck he's broken off and all his suck thereafter has he torn the ensign blue clean through his body's gone until he flings him dead on a high rock his companion juror he's slain also and Berenger and Gryun of Santone next a rich Duke he's gone to strike or store that held valance and the honor of the Rhone he's sprung him dead great joy the pagan show then say the Franks of ours how many fall the counter alans his sword with blood is stained well has he heard what way the Franks complained such grief he has his heart would split in twain to the pagan says God send thee every shame one has thou slain that dearly dalt repay he spurs his horse that on with speed doth strain which should forfeit they both together came grandowny was both proof and valiant and virtuous of vessel combatant upon the way there he has met Roland he'd never seen yet knew him at a glance by the proud face and those fine limbs he had by his regard and by his countenance he could not help but he grew faint there at he would escape nothing avail he can struck him the count with so great virtue that to the nose plate he's all the helmet cracked sliced through the nose and mouth and teeth he has Hobart close mailed and all the whole caucus saddle of gold with plates of silver flanked and of his horse has deeply scarred the back he's slain them both they'll make no more attack the Spanish men in sorrow cry a lack then say the Franks he strikes well our warrant marvellous is the battle in its speed the Franks they strike with vigor and with heat cutting through wrists and ribs and shines indeed through garments to the lively flesh beneath on the green grass the clear blood runs in streams the pagans say no more will suffer we terror major Muhammad curse on thee beyond all men thy people are hardy there was not one but tried then my silly cancer or king thy sucker now we need marvellous is the battle now and grand the Franks their strike their good brown spheres in hand then had you seen such sorrowing of clans so many a slain shattered and bleeding man biting the earth or piled there on their backs the Sarazins cannot such loss withstand will they or nil from off the field drawback by lively force chase them away the Franks their martyrdom his men's must seal has seen so he bid sound his horns and his busines then cantons forth with all his great army cantons before a Sarazin abyss me more fellow nun was in that company cankered with guile and every felony he fears not God the son of st. Mary black is that man as molten pitch that seeds better he loves murder and treachery then to have all the gold of galaxy never has man behold him sportful glee yet vassalage he's shown and great folly so as he dear to the felon king must seal dragon he bears to which his tribe rally that archbishop could never love him he seeing him there to strike he's very keen within himself he says all quietly this Sarazin great heretic me seems rather I'll die the not slay him clean near did I love coward nor cowardice that archbishop begins the fight again sitting the horse which he took from Grosse that was a king he had in Denmark's lane that charger is swift and of noble race fine are his hooves his legs are smooth and straight short are his thighs broadcruper he displays long are his ribs a loft his spine is raised white is his tail and yellow is his mane little his ears and horny all his face no beast is there can match him in a race that archbishop spurs on by vassalage he will not pause it abysm he assail so strikes that shield is wonderfully arrayed we're on our stones amethyst and torpedoes as terminals and carbuncles that blaze a devil's gift it was in Valmete's who handed it to the Admiral Gallifers so turpent strikes spares him not anyway after that blow his worth no penny wage the carcass he's sliced rib from rib away so flings him down dead in an empty place then say the Franks he has great vassalage with the archbishop surely the cross is safe the Count Roland calls upon Oliver so companion witness your freely bear the archbishop is a right good Chevalier none better as near heaven anywhere well can he strike with Lance and well with spear answers that count support to him will bear upon that word the Franks again make here hard other blows slaughter and suffering there for Christians to most bitter grief and care who could had seen Roland and Oliver with their good swords to strike and to slaughter and the archbishop lays on there with his spear those that are dead men well may hold them dear in charters and in brief is written clear four thousand fell and more the tales declare against four assaults easily did they fare but then the fifth brought heavy griefs to bear they all are slain those Frankish Chevaliers only three score whom God was pleased to spare before these die they'll sell them very dear the Count Roland great loss of his men sees his companion Olivia calls and speaks sir and comrade in God's name that you keeps such good vessels you see lie here in heaps for France the deuce fair country may we weep of such barons long desolate she'll be ah king and friend where for are you not here oh Oliver brother can we achieve and by what means our news to him repeat says Oliver I know not how to seek rather I die then shame come of this feet then says Roland's I'll win this Oliphant if Charles here we're in the past he stands I pledge you now they will return the Franks says Oliver great shame would come of that and a reproach on everyone your clan that shall endure while each lives in the land when I implored you would not do this act doing it now no race from me you'll have so wind your horn but not by courage rash seeing that both your arms with blood are splashed answers that count fine blows I've struck them back then says Roland strong it is now our battle I'll wind my horn so the king hears it Charles says Oliver that acts were not a vassals when I implored you comrade you were wrathful where the king here we had not born such damage nor should we blame those with him there his army says Oliver now by my beard hereafter if I may see my gentle sister old she in her arms I swear shall never clasp you then says Roland's wherefore so Roth with me he answers him comrade it was your deed vacillage comes by sense and not folly prudence more worth is than stupidity here are Franks dead or for your trickery no more service to Carlon may we yield my Lord were here now had you trusted me and fought and won this battle then had we taken or slain were the king my silly in your prowess Roland's no good we've seen Charles the great in vain your aid will seek none such as he till God his judgment speak here must you die and France and shame be steeped here perishes our loyal company before this night great severance and grief that art bishop has heard them how they spoke his horse he pricks with his fine spurs of gold coming to them he takes up his reproach so Oliver and you sir Roland both for God I pray do not each other's gold no help it were to us the horn to blow but nonetheless it may be better so the king will come with vengeance that he owes these Spanish men never away shall go our Franks here each descending from his horse will find us dead and limb from body torn they'll take us hence on beers and litters born with pity and with grief for us they'll mourn they'll bury each in some old minister close no wolf nor swine nor dog shall know our bones answers Roland sir very well you spoke Roland has set the olive on to his mouth he graphs it well and with great virtue sounds high are those peaks a fire at rings and loud 30 great leagues they hear its echoes mount so Charles heard and all his comrades round then said that king battle they do our counts and Gronerland answered contrarious that were a lie in any other mouth the count Roland's with sorrow and with pangs and with great pain sounded his elephant out of his mouth the clear blood leapt and ran about his brain the very temples cracked loud as its voice that horn he holds in hand Charles had heard we're in the past he stands and names he is and listens all the Franks then says the king I hear his horn Roland's he'll never sound but he were in combat answers him Gawain's it is no battle that now are you old blossoming white and blanched yet by such words you still appear in front you know full well the great pride of Roland marvel is God stays so tolerant no pulse he took not waiting your command then issued for the Sarazins a band with vassalage had fought against Roland he slew them first with Durandal his brand then washed their blood with water from the land so what he'd done might not be seen of man he for a hair goes all day horn in hand before his peers and foolish jest he brags no race need heaven and field him dare attack so cancer on they were for hold me back terror major is far away our land the count Roland's though blood his mouth doth stain and burst are both the temples of his brain his olive on his sounds with grief and pain Charles had heard listen the Franks again that horn the king says had the mighty strain answers Duke Neems a Baron blows with pain battle is there indeed I see it plain he is betrayed by one that still doth feign equip you sir cry out your old refrain that noble band go sucker them a main enough you've heard how Roland doth complain that Emperor hath bid them sound their horns the Franks dismount and dress themselves for war put her works on helmets and golden swords fine shields they have and spears of length and force scarlet and blue and white their ensigns float his charger mounts each baron of the host they spur with haste as through the past they go nor was there one but thus to his neighbors spoke now ear he die may we see Roland so ranged by his side will give some goodly blows but what avail they've stayed too long below that even tide is light as was the day their armor shines beneath the Sun's clear ray Hoburks and Helms throw off a dazzling flame and blaze and shields flowered in bright array also their spears with golden ensigns gay that Emperor he canters on with rage and all the Franks with wonder and dismay there is not one can bitter tears restrain and for Roland they're very sore afraid the King has bid them sees that County Gawain and charged with him the scullions of his train the master cook he's called the scun by name guard me him well his felony is plain who in my house Val treachery has made he holds him and a hundred others takes from the kitchen both good and evil names then Gawain's beard and both his cheeks they shaved and four blows each with their closed fists they gave they trounced him well with cudgels and with staves and on his neck they clasped an iron chain so like a bear and chained they held him safe on a pec mule they set him in his shame kept him till Charles should call for him again high were the peaks and shadowy and grand the valleys deep the rivers swiftly ran trumpets they blew in rear and in the van till all again answered that Oliphant that Emperor counters with fury mad and all the Franks dismay and wonder have there is not one but weeps and waxes sad and all pray God that he will guard Roland till in the field together they may stand there by his side they'll strike as well they can but what avail no good there is in that they're not in time too long have they held back end of verses 88 to 138