World Lit Part 2

["The Song of Roland XCIII. Said Olivier:\u2014\u201dNo care have I to speak, Since you deigned not to blow your olifant, All hope of help from Carle for you is lost. He knows no word of this; the fault lies not In him, nor are yon Knights to blame\u2014ride on And gallop to the charge as best you can. Seigneurs Barons, recoil not from the foe, In God\u2019s name! bearing ever this in mind, Hard blows to deal and hard blows to endure Forget we not the war-cry of King Carle!\u201d At this word all the French together shout. Who then had heard the cry, \u201cMontjoie!\u201d30 had known What courage is. Then all together rush Right onward; God! with what an onset fierce! Deeply they spur their steeds for greater speed; They burn to fight. What else can they desire? The Saracens stand firm and nothing fear.... Behold the Franks and Pagans hand to hand.... Aoi. The Melee. XCIV. The nephew of Marsile\u2014his name A\u00eblroth,31 Forward the first of all spurs on his horse Against our French, hurling forth insulting words: \u201cTo-day, French villains, ye will joust with us; Who was to guard you, has betrayed you; mad Must be the King who left you in the pass. So now the honor of sweet France is lost, And Carle the great shall lose his right arm here.\u201d Roll\u00e0nd heard.\u2014God! what pain to him! He drives His golden spurs into his courser\u2019s flanks, And rushes at full speed against A\u00eblroth; His shield he breaks, dismails the hauberk linked; Cleaving his breast, he severs all the bones, And from the spine the ribs disjoint. The lance Forth from his body thrusts the Pagan\u2019s soul; The Heathen\u2019s corse32 reels from his horse, falls down Upon the earth, the neck cloven in two halves. Roll\u00e1nd still taunts him:\u2014\u201dGo thou, wretch, and know Carle was not mad. Ne\u2019er did he treason love, And he did well to leave us in the pass. To-day sweet France will not her honor lose! Strike, Frenchmen, strike; the first sword-stroke is ours; We have the right, these gluttons have the wrong!\u201d Aoi. XCV. Then comes a Duke whose name is Falsarun; He is the brother of the King Marsile. The lands of Dathan and of Abirun He holds: no viler wretch lives under Heaven. Vast is his forehead, and the space between 30\t The afore-mentioned war-cry of Charlemagne. 31\t The negative analog to Roland. 32\t Corpse. 97","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 His deeply sunken eyes is half a foot. Seeing his nephew dead, in grief he bounds Forth from the serried ranks, and shouts aloud The Pagan war-cry, furious \u2018gainst the French. \u201cTo-day,\u201d he cries, \u201cat last sweet France shall lose Her fame!\u201d\u2014When Olivier heard this, in wrath He pricks with golden spurs his charger\u2019s flanks, And, like true baron, lifts his arm to strike, Shivers the Pagan\u2019s shield, his hauberk tears Apart. The pennon\u2019s folds pass through his breast As with the shaft he hurls him from the selle,33 A mangled corpse;\u2014here lies he on the ground. Unto the prostrate body Olivier Says proudly:\u2014\u201dWretch, to me thy threats are vain! Strike boldly, Franks! The victory shall be ours! Montjoie!\u201d he shouts, the battle-cry of Carle. Aoi. XCVI. A king, named Corsablis, from Barbarie,34 A distant land, is there.\u2014The Pagan host He calls;\u2014\u201dThe field is ours with ease: the French So few in numbers we may well disdain, Nor Carle shall rescue one; all perish here. To-day, they all are doomed to death!\u201d Turpin The Archbishop heard him; lived no man on earth He hated more than Corsablis; he pricks His horse with both his spurs of purest gold, And \u2018gainst him rushes with tremendous force. The shield and hauberk split; and with a stroke Of the long lance into his body driven, Corsablis lifeless drops across the path; Him, though a corpse, Turpin addresses thus: \u201cThou, coward Pagan, thou hast lied! Great Carl My lord, was ever and will ever be Our help; and Frenchmen know not how to fly. As for thy fellows, we can keep them here; I tell you, each this day shall die.\u2014Strike, Franks, Yourselves forget not. This first blow, thank God, Is ours! Montjoie!\u201d cries he, to hold the field. Aoi. XCVII. G\u00e9rin35 attacks Malprimis de Brigal Whose good shield now was not a denier36 worth: The crystal boss all broken, and one half Fall\u2019n on the ground. Down to the flesh G\u00e9rin His hauberk cleaves, and passes through his heart The brazen point of a stout lance. Then falls The Pagan chief and dies by that good blow; And Sathanas37 bears off the wretched soul. Aoi. 33\t Saddle. 34\t Arabia. 35\t A Paladin, one of the 12 Peers of Charlemagne. 36\t French coin. 37\t Satan. 98","The Song of Roland XCVIII. G\u00e9rier,38 his comrade, strikes the Amurafle,39 Breaks his good shield, his hauberk white unmails, Plants in his heart a spear\u2019s steel point with such Good aim, one blow has pierced the body through; And his strong lance-thrust hurls him dead to earth.\u2014 Said Olivier: \u201cA noble combat ours!\u201d Aoi. XCIX. Duke Sansun40 rushes on the Almazour;41 He splits the shield with painted flowers and gold Embossed. The strong-mailed hauberk shelters not, As he is pierced through liver, heart and lungs. For him may mourn who will\u2014death-struck he falls: \u201cThat is a Baron\u2019s stroke!\u201d the Archbishop cries. Aoi. C. Anse\u00efs42 gives his steed the rein, and charges Fierce on Turgis de Turteluse; beneath The golden boss asunder breaks the shield, Rips up the hauberk double-linked; so true The thrust, that all the steel passed through his breast. With this one blow the shaft has struck him dead. Roll\u00e1nd exclaimed: \u201cThe stroke is of a Knight!\u201d Aoi. CI. Then Engelier,43 the Gascuin44 of Burdele, Spurs deep his horse, and casting loose the rein, Rushes upon Escremiz de Valterne; Breaks down the buckler fastened to his throat And rends his gorget-mail; full in the breast The lance strikes deep and passes in between The collar bones; dead from the saddle struck He falls.\u2014And Turpin says: \u201cYe all are lost!\u201d Aoi. CII. Othon45 assails a Pagan, Estorgant, His thrust hits hard the leather of the shield, Effacing its bright colors red and white, Breaks in his hauberk\u2019s sides, and plunges deep Within his heart a strong and trenchant spear, From off the flying steed striking him dead. This done, he says:\u2014\u201dNo hope for you remains!\u201d Aoi. 38\t Another Paladin. 39\t Admiral. 40\t Also, Samson; another Paladin. 41\t Arabic military title. 42\t Paladin. 43\t Paladin. 44\t Gascon from Gascony, a region in France. 45\t Also Otton or Otto; a Paladin. 99","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 CIII. And B\u00e9rengier46 smites now Estramaris, Splits down his shield, shivers his coat of mail In shreds and through his bosom drives a lance. Dead \u2018midst one thousand Saracens he drops. Of their twelve Peers47 now ten have breathed their last: Chernuble\u2014Margariz, the Count, survive. Aoi. CIV. Most valiant Knight is Margariz. \u2018Mid all Beauteous, strong, slender, quick of hand. He spurs His horse and charges Olivier; beneath The boss of purest gold his shield breaks down, Then at his side a pointed lance he aims; But God protects him, for the blow ne\u2019er reached The flesh. The point grazed only, wounding not. Then Margariz unhindered rides away And sounds his horn to rally his own men. Aoi. CV. The battle rages fierce. All men engage. Roll\u00e1nd, the dauntless, combats with his lance As long as holds the shaft. Fifteen good blows It dealt, then broke and fell; now his good sword, Loved Durendal, he draws, spurs on his steed \u2018Gainst Chernubles, splits his bright helm adorned With gems; one blow cleaves through mail-cap and skull, Cutting both eyes and visage in two parts, And the white hauberk with its close-linked mail; Down to the body\u2019s fork, the saddle all Of beaten gold, still deeper goes the sword, Cuts through the courser\u2019s chine, nor seeks the joint. Upon the verdant grass fall dead both knight And steed. And then he cries: \u201cWretch! ill inspired To venture here! Mohammed helped thee not.... Wretches like you this battle shall not win.\u201d Aoi. CVI. The Count Roll\u00e0nd rides through the battle-field And makes, with Durendal\u2019s keen blade in hand, A mighty carnage of the Saracens. Ah! had you then beheld the valiant Knight Heap corse on corse; blood drenching all the ground; His own arms, hauberk, all besmeared with gore, And his good steed from neck to shoulder bleed! Still Olivier halts not in his career. Of the twelve Peers not one deserves reproach, And all the French strike well and massacre The foe. The Pagans dead or dying fall. Cries the Archbishop: \u201cWell done, Knights of France! Montjoie! Montjoie! It is Carle\u2019s battle cry!\u201d Aoi. 46\t Paladin. 47\t That is, the twelve Muslim Peers, negative analogs of the French Peers. 100","The Song of Roland CVII. Olivier grasps the truncheon48 of his lance, Spurs through the storm and fury of the fight, And rushes on the Pagan Malsarun, Breaks down his shield with flowers and gold embossed, Thrusts from their orbs his eyes; his brains dashed out Are crushed and trampled \u2018neath the victor\u2019s feet; With seven hundred men of theirs he fell. The Count next slew Turgis and Estorgus; But now the shaft breaks short off by his hand. Then said Roll\u00e1nd: \u201cWhat mean you, Compagnon?49 In such a fight as this \u2018tis not a staff We need, but steel and iron, as I deem. Where now that sword called Halteclere, with hilt Of gold and crystal pommel?\u201d \u201cI lack time To draw it,\u201d valiant Olivier replies, \u201cSo busy is my hand in dealing blows!\u201d Aoi. CVIII. Lord Olivier then his good sword unsheathed, For which Roll\u00e1nd entreated him so much, And showed it to his friend with knightly pride; Strikes down a Pagan, Justin de Val-Ferr\u00e9e, Whose head is severed by the blow; cuts through Th\u2019 embroider\u2019d hauberk, through the body, through The saddle all with studs and gold embossed, And through the back-bone of the steed. Both man And steed fall on the grass before him, dead. Roll\u00e1nd exclaims: \u201cHenceforth, you are indeed My brother! These, the strokes loved by King Carle!\u201d And echoes round the cry: \u201cMontjoie! Montjoie!\u201d Aoi. CIX. The Count G\u00e9rin sits on his horse, Sorel, And his companion G\u00e9rier, on Passe-Cerf, They loose the reins, and both spur on against A Pagan, Timozel. One strikes the shield, The other strikes the hauberk;\u2014in his heart The two spears meet and hurl him lifeless down. I never heard it said nor can I know By which of them the swifter blow was struck.\u2014 Esperveris, son to Borel, was next By Engelier de Burdele50 slain. Turpin With his own hand gave death to Siglorel Th\u2019 Enchanter who once entered hell, led there By Jupiter\u2019s craft. Turpin said:\u2014\u201dForfeit paid For crime!\u201d\u2014\u201dThe wretch is vanquished,\u201d cried Roll\u00e1nd, \u201cMy brother Olivier, such blows I love!\u201d Aoi. CX. The combat paused not. Franks and Pagans vie In dealing blows; attacking now, and now 48\t Handle. 49\t Companion. 50\t Another Paladin. 101","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 Defending. Splintered spears, dripping with blood So many; o\u2019er the field such numbers strewn: Of banners torn and shattered gonfalons! So many valiant French mowed in their prime, Whom mothers and sweet wives will never see Again, nor those of France who in the Pass Await them! Carle for these shall weep and mourn. But what avails? Naught can he help them now. Ill service rendered Ganelon to them The day when he to Sarraguce repaired To sell his kin. Ere long for this he lost Both limb and life, judged and condemned at Aix, There to be hanged with thirty of his race Who were not spared the punishment of death. Aoi. CXI. The battle rages. Wonders all perform; Roll\u00e1nd and Olivier strike hard; Turpin Th\u2019 Archbishop, deals more than a thousand blows; The twelve Peers dally not upon the field, While all the French together fight as if One man. By hundreds and by thousands fall The Pagans: none scapes death, save those who fly Whether they will or no, all lose their lives. And yet the French have lost their strongest arms, Their fathers and their kin they will ne\u2019er see Again, nor Carle who waits them in the Pass. Meantime in France an awful scourge prevails: Wind, storm, rain, hail and flashing lightning bolts Conflict confusedly, and naught more true, The earth shook from Saint Michiel-del-Peril As far as to the Saints, from Besan\u00e7on Unto the [sea-port] of Guitzand; no house Whose walls unshaken stood; darkness at noon Shrouded the sky. No beam of light above Save when a flash rips up the clouds. Dismayed Beholders cry:\u2014\u201dThe world\u2019s last day has come, The destined end of all things is at hand!\u201d Unwitting of the truth, their speech is vain.... \u2018Tis dolour51 for the death of Count Roll\u00e1nd! Aoi. CXII. The French [strike] hard; they strike with all their force. In multitudes\u2014by thousands die their foes; Not two out of one hundred thousand now Survive. [Turpin] says:\u2014\u201dBrave are all our men;\u2014 None braver under Heaven\u2014In the Geste52 Of France \u2018tis writ true vassals have our Kings.\u201d Seeking their friends, they overrun the field. Their eyes are filled with tenderness and tears For their dear kindred they so fondly loved.... Now King Marsile with his great host appears.... Aoi. 51\t Sadness. 52\t Tales of Great Deeds. 102","The Song of Roland CXIII. Marsile advances \u2018midst a valley deep, Surrounded by the mighty host he brought, In twenty squadrons mustered and arrayed. Bright shine the helmets strewn with gold and gems, And shields and hauberks graved. They sound a charge With seven hundred clarions sending forth Loud blasts throughout the land\u2014Thus said Roll\u00e1nd: \u201cCompanion Olivier, my brother, friend, The traitor, Ganelon, has sworn our death.... His treason is too sure; the Emp\u2019ror Carle For this vile crime will take a vengeance deep. A long and cruel battle we shall have, Ere this unknown to man. There, I will fight With my good Durendal; you, friend, will strike With Halteclere\u2014Those noble swords we bore Throughout so many lands; such combats won By them, vile strains must never chant their deeds.\u201d Aoi. CXIV. When the French see the Pagan cohorts swarm The country o\u2019er, they call on Olivier, Roll\u00e1nd and the twelve Peers to guard their lives. Unto them now the Archbishop speaks his mind: \u201cBarons, be not unworthy of yourselves! Fly not the field, for God\u2019s sake, that brave men Sing not ill songs of you! Far better die In battle. Doomed, I know, we are to death, And ere this day has passed, our lives are o\u2019er. But for one thing ye can believe my word: For you God\u2019s Paradise stands open wide, And seats await you \u2018mid the bless\u00e8d Saints.\u201d These words of comfort reassure the French; All in one voice cry out:\u2014\u201dMontjoie! Montjoie!\u201d Aoi. CXV. There was a Saracen from Sarraguce Lord of one half the city\u2014Climorin, Unlike a Baron; he received the faith Of Ganelon, and sealed the treacherous bond By pressing on his lip a kiss\u2014Besides Unto him gave his sword and carbuncle.53 \u201cI will,\u201d said he, \u201cput your great France to shame And from the Emperor\u2019s head shake off the crown!\u201d Mounted on Barbamouche that faster flies Than hawk or swallow on the wing, he spurs His courser hard, and dropping on its neck The rein, he strikes Engelier de Gascuigne; Hauberk nor shield is for him a defense: Deep in the core the Pagan thrusts his spear So mightily, its point comes out behind, And with the shaft o\u2019erturns him on the field A corse;\u2014he cries. \u201cFit for destruction these! Strike, Pagans, strike, and let us break their lines!\u201d 53\t Shield, perhaps. 103","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 The French cry: \u201cGod! to lose so brave a Knight!\u201d.... Aoi. CXVI. The Count Roll\u00e1nd calls Olivier: \u201cYou know, Companion, sire, Engelier is no more.... No better Knight had we\u201d\u2014The Count replies: \u201cGod grant that I avenge him well!\u201d He drives His golden spurs into his charger\u2019s flanks; And waving Halteclere\u2019s blood dripping blade, The Pagan he assails, and deals a blow.... O\u2019erthrown is Climorin. The fiends of hell Bear off his soul. The Knight then slays the Duke Alpha\u00efen, beheads Escababi, Unhorses seven Arabs with such skill They rise no more to fight. Then said Roll\u00e1nd: \u201cWroth is my sire, and by my side achieves Renown! by such good blows Carl\u2019s love is gained. Strike, Chevaliers!54 strike on!\u201d\u2014he cries aloud. Aoi. CXVII. From otherwhere is Valdabrun who armed Marsile a Knight; lord of four hundred ships. There is no sailor but swears by his name; \u2018Twas he by treason took Jerusalem, Who there the shrine of Solomon profaned, And slew before the Fonts the Patriarch; \u2018Twas he, received Count Ganelon\u2019s vile oath And gave him with his sword a thousand marks; Faster than falcon in its flight his steed Named Graminond. He sharply spurs his flanks And rushes \u2018gainst the mighty Duke Sansun, Breaks down his shield\u2014the hauberk rends, and thrusts Within his breast the pennon of the flag; The shaft o\u2019erthrows him from the saddle, dead. \u201cStrike Pagans! strike, for we shall conquer them!\u201d The French say:\u2014\u201dGod! what Baron true we lose!\u201d Aoi. CXVIII. When Count Roll\u00e1nd sees Sansun lifeless fall, You may well know what grief was his. He spurs His horse down on the Pagan. Durendal More worth than precious gold he lifts to strike With all his might; gold studded helm, head, trunk, Hauberk asunder cleaves; the blow, e\u2019en through The gold boss\u2019d saddle, strikes the courser\u2019s back, Killing both horse and man. Blame or approve Who may. The Pagans say:\u2014\u201dHard is this blow!\u201d Retorts Roll\u00e1nd:\u2014\u201dFor yours no pity can I feel\u2014With you the vaunting and the wrong!\u201d Aoi. CXIX. An African fresh from the desert land 54\t Knights. 104","The Song of Roland Was there, Malquidant, son of king Malcud; His armor highly wrought in beaten gold Outshines all others in the sun\u2019s bright rays. Mounted upon his horse named Salt-Perdut, He aims a blow at Anse\u00efs\u2019 shield, and cuts The azure and vermillion all away. His hauberk rives asunder, side from side, And through his body pass both point and shaft. The Count is dead.\u2014His last breath spent and flown. The French say:\u2014\u201dBaron, such great woe for you!\u201d Aoi. CXX. The Archbishop Turpin rides across the fields; No shaven priest sang ever mass so well As he, and showed such prowess in his deeds. He to the Pagan:\u2014\u201dMay God send all ills To thee, who slew the knight my heart bewails!\u201d Turpin spurs hard his good steed \u2018gainst the wretch; One blow strikes down his strong Toledo shield: The miscreant dead upon the green sward falls. Aoi. CXXI. Elsewhere stands Grandomie who is the son Of Capuel king of Cappadoce. He sits A steed named Marmorie, than flying bird More swift. Loosening the rein, and spurring deep, To smite G\u00e9rin with all his force he rides; Torn from the neck which bears it, shattered falls The purple shield, through the rent mail he drives The whole blue pennon in his breast. G\u00e9rin Drops lifeless by this blow, against a rock. The Pagan also slays G\u00e9rier, his friend, And B\u00e9rengier, and Gui de Saint-Antoine; Assailing then the noble Duke Austoire Who holds Valence and fiefs along the Rosne, He strikes him dead. The Saracens extol Their triumph, but how many fall of ours! Aoi. CXXII. Hearing the Frenchmen\u2019s sobs, the Count Roll\u00e1nd Grasps in his hand his sword, all reeking blood. His mighty heart nigh breaking with his grief, Cries to the foe:\u2014\u201dMay God all evils send On thee! him hast thou slain for whom thou shalt Most dearly pay!\u2014\u201d He spurs his flying steed.... Conquer who may\u2014these two fight hand to hand. Aoi. CXXIII. A wise and valiant knight was Grandonie, Virtuous and fearless vassal. \u2018Mid his way Encountering Count Roll\u00e1nd, though never seen Before, at once he knew \u2018twas he, as well By his proud mien and noble beauty, as 105","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 By his fair countenance and lofty look. Awe-struck, despite himself, he vainly tries To fly, but rooted to the spot he stays. The Count Roll\u00e1nd smites him so skillfully, He splits in two the nazal, helm, nose, mouth, And teeth, the body and mailed-armor, then Hews through the golden selle, both silver-flaps; With a still deeper stroke the courser\u2019s back Is gashed. So both are slain past remedy. The men of Spain cry out all sorrowful; But say the French:\u2014\u201dWell our defender strikes.\u201d Aoi. CXXIV. Marv\u2019lous the battle, and the tumult fierce; The French of strength and fury full, raise high Their swords: backs, ribs and wrists are slashed; the flesh Cut through rent garments to the quick; along The verdant soil the red blood runs in streams. The Pagans cry:\u2014\u201dWe cannot more endure! Great land, Mohammed curse thee!\u2014More than all This people bold.\u201d\u2014Not one who does not cry \u201cMarsile! ride on, O King, thy aid we need!\u201d Aoi. CXXV. A battle fierce and wonderful!\u2014Hard strike The French with glittering lance, and there you might Have seen what miseries man can suffer: Mowed And heaped in bloody mounds, all gasping out Their lives, some on their backs, some on their teeth\u2014 The Saracens give way, willing or not; By the French lances forced, they fly the field. Aoi. CXXVI. Marsile his warriors massacred beholds, And, bidding all his horns and trumpets blow, Rides forward, and his whole van rides with him. In the van rode a Saracen, Abisme, The vilest wretch among his men, sunk deep In crimes and shame, who has no faith in God, Sainte Marie\u2019s son; as black as melted pitch His face; more fond of blood and treason foul Than of the gold of all Galice. None saw Him laugh or play; for courage and rash deeds He pleased the vile Marsile whose dragon flag He bears. No pity can the Archbishop feel For him, and at his sight he craves to try His arm, all softly saying to himself: \u201cThis Saracen is but a heretic; Far better die than not to give him death. Ne\u2019er cowardice nor coward I endured!\u201d Aoi. CXXVII. The Archbishop gives the signal for the fight; 106","The Song of Roland He rides the horse he captured from Grossaille, A King he slew among the Danes: a horse Of wondrous fleetness, light-hoofed, slender-limbed; Thigh short; with broad and mighty haunch; the flanks Are long, and very high his spine; pure white His tail, and yellow is his mane\u2014his ears Are small\u2014light brown his head. This paragon Of all the beasts of earth has not his peer. The Archbishop, baron-like, spurs on the horse, Full bent upon the encounter with Abisme; He gains his side and hard he strikes his shield Glittering with gems, topaz and amethyst, Crystals and carbuncles, which to him gave The Emir Galaf\u00e9s\u2014a demon\u2019s gift To this in Val-Metas. Him Turpin smites Nor mercy shows; \u2018gainst such a blow avails The shield but little; sheer from side to side Passes the blade ... dead on the place he falls. At such exploit amazed, the French exclaim: \u201cThe archbishop\u2019s crosier in his hand is safe!\u201d Aoi. CXXVIII. The Count Roll\u00e1nd calls Olivier: \u201cWith me, Companion, sire, confess that \u2018mong brave knights The archbishop upon earth or under Heav\u2019n Has not his peer in casting spear or lance.\u201d Olivier answers:\u2014\u201dTo his rescue on!\u201d At this the French once more resume the fight. Hard are the blows, rough is the strife\u2014Meantime The Christian host in greatest sorrow mourn. Aoi. CXXIX. Whoever could this fight describe? Roll\u00e1nd And Olivier vie with Turpin in skill And glorious deeds\u2014The slain can counted be; In charts and briefs their numbers are enrolled: More than four thousand fell, so says the Geste. Four times the French arms were victorious, But on the fifth, a cruel fate they met; The knights of France found there a grave, except Three more whose lives God saved; yet those brave knights, Ere falling, their last breath will dearly sell. Aoi. The Horn. CXXX. Seeing so many warriors fall\u2019n around, Roll\u00e1nd unto his comrade Olivier Spoke thus: \u201cCompanion fair and dear, for God Whose blessing rest on you, those vassals true And brave lie corses on the battle-field: Look! We must mourn for France so sweet and fair, From henceforth widowed of such valiant knights. Carle, \u2018would you were amongst us, King and friend! 107","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 What can we do, say, brother Olivier, To bring him news of this sore strait of ours!\u201d Olivier answers:\u2014\u201dI know not; but this I know; for us is better death than shame.\u201d Aoi. CXXXI. Roll\u00e1nd says;\u2014\u201dI will blow mine olifant, And Carle will hear it from the pass. I pledge My word the French at once retrace their steps.\u201d Said Olivier:\u2014\u201dThis a great shame would be, One which to all your kindred would bequeathe A lifetime\u2019s stain. When this I asked of you, You answered nay, and would do naught. Well, now With my consent you shall not;\u2014if you blow Your horn, of valor true you show no proof. Already, both your arms are drenched with blood.\u201d Responds the Count:\u2014\u201dThese arms have nobly struck.\u201d Aoi. CXXXII. \u201cThe strife is rude,\u201d Roll\u00e1nd says\u2014\u201dI will blow My horn, that Carle may hear.\u201d\u2014Said Olivier:\u2014 \u201cThis would not courage be. What I desired, Companion, you disdained. Were the king here, Safe would we be, but yon brave men are not To blame\u201d\u2014\u201dBy this my beard,\u201d said Olivier, \u201cI swear, if e\u2019er I see again sweet Aude, My sister, in her arms you ne\u2019er shall lie.\u201d Aoi. CXXXIII. Roll\u00e1nd asked Olivier\u2014\u201dWhy show to me Your anger, friend!\u201d\u2014\u201dCompanion, yours the fault; True courage means not folly. Better far Is prudence than your valiant rage. Our French Their lives have lost, your rashness is the cause. And now our arms can never more give Carle Their service good. Had you believed your friend, Amongst us would he be, and ours the field, The King Marsile, a captive or a corse. Roll\u00e0nd, your valor brought ill fortune, nor Shall Carle the great e\u2019er more our help receive, A man unequaled till God\u2019s judgment-day. Here you shall die, and dying, humble France, ... This day our loyal friendship ends\u2014ere falls The Vesper-eve, dolorously we part!\u201d Aoi. CXXXIV. The Archbishop heard their strife. In haste he drives Into his horse his spurs of purest gold, And quick beside them rides. Then chiding them, Says:\u2014\u201dSire Roll\u00e1nd, and you, Sire Olivier, In God\u2019s name be no feud between you two; No more your horn shall save us; nathless55 \u2018twere 55\t Nevertheless. 108","The Song of Roland Far better Carle should come and soon avenge Our deaths. So joyous then these Spanish foes Would not return. But as our Franks alight, Find us or slain or mangled on the field, They will our bodies on their chargers\u2019 backs Lift in their shrouds with grief and pity, all In tears, and bury us in holy ground: And neither wolves, nor swine, nor curs shall feed On us\u2014\u201d Replies Roll\u00e1nd:\u2014\u201dWell have you said.\u201d Aoi. CXXXV. Roll\u00e1nd raised to his lips the olifant, Drew a deep breath, and blew with all his force. High are the mountains, and from peak to peak The sound re-echoes; thirty leagues away \u2018Twas heard by Carle and all his brave compeers. Cried the king:\u2014\u201dOur men make battle!\u2014\u201d Ganelon Retorts in haste:\u2014\u201dIf thus another dared To speak, we should denounce it as a lie.\u201d Aoi. CXXXVI. The Count Roll\u00e1nd in his great anguish blows His olifant so mightily, with such Despairing agony, his mouth pours forth The crimson blood, and his swoll\u2019n temples burst. Yea, but so far the ringing blast resounds; Carle hears it, marching through the pass, Naimes harks, The French all listen with attentive ear. \u201cThat is Roll\u00e1nd\u2019s horn!\u2014\u201d Carle cried, \u201cwhich ne\u2019er yet Was, save in battle, blown!\u2014\u201d But Ganelon Replies:\u2014\u201dNo fight is there!\u2014you, sire, are old, Your hair and beard are all bestrewn with gray, And as a child your speech. Well do you know Roll\u00e1nd\u2019s great pride. \u2018Tis marvelous God bears With him so long. Already took he Noble Without your leave. The Pagans left their walls And fought Roll\u00e1nd, your brave Knight, in the field; With his good blade he slew them all, and then Washed all the plain with water, that no trace Of blood was left\u2014yea, oftentimes he runs After a hare all day and blows his horn. Doubtless he takes his sport now with his peers; And who \u2018neath Heav\u2019n would dare attack Roll\u00e1nd? None, as I deem. Nay, sire, ride on apace; Why do you halt? Still far is the Great Land.\u201d Aoi. CXXXVII. Roll\u00e1nd with bleeding mouth and temples burst, Still in his anguish, blows his olifant; Carle hears it, and his Franks. The king exclaims: \u201cThat horn has a long breath!\u201d Duke Naimes replies: \u201cRoll\u00e1nd it is, and in a sore distress, Upon my faith, a battle rages there! A traitor he who would deceive you now. 109","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 To arms! Your war-cry shout, your kinsman save! Plainly enough you hear his call for help.\u201d Aoi. CXXXVIII. Carle orders all the trumpeters to sound The march. The French alight. They arm themselves With helmets, hauberks and gold hilted swords, Bright bucklers, long sharp spears, with pennons white And red and blue. The barons of the host Leap on their steeds, all spurring on; while through The pass they march, each to the other says: \u201cCould we but reach Roll\u00e1nd before he dies, What deadly blows, with his, our swords would strike!\u201d But what avails?\u2014Too late they will arrive. Aoi. CXXXIX. The ev\u2019n56 is clear, the sun its radiant beams Reflects upon the marching legions. Spears, Hauberks and helms, shields painted with bright flowers, Gold pennons all ablaze with glitt\u2019ring hues. Burning with wrath the Emperor rides on; The French with sad and angered looks. None there But weeps aloud. All tremble for Roll\u00e1nd. The King commands Count Ganelon be seized And given to the scullions of his house. Their chief, named B\u00e8gue, he calls and bids: \u201cGuard well This man as one who all my kin betrayed.\u201d Him B\u00e8gue received, and set upon the Count One hundred of his kitchen comrades\u2014best And worst;\u2014they pluck his beard on lip and cheek; Each deals him with his fist four blows, and falls On him with lash and stick; they chain his neck As they would chain a bear, and he is thrown For more dishonor on a sumpter57 mule, There guarded so until to Carle brought back. Aoi. CXL. High are the mountains, gloomy, terrible, The valleys deep, and swift the rushing streams. In van, in rear, the brazen trumpets blow, Answ\u2019ring the olifant. With angry look Rides on the Emp\u2019ror; filled with wrath and grief, Follow the French, each sobbing, each in tears, Praying that God may guard Roll\u00e1nd, until They reach the battle-field. With him what blows Will they not strike? Alas! what boots it now? Too late they are and can not come in time. Aoi. CXLI. Carle in great anger rides\u2014his snow-white beard O\u2019erspreads his breast-plate. Hard the Barons spur, 56\t Evening. 57\t Pack-horse. 110","The Song of Roland For never one but inwardly doth rage That he is far from their great chief, Roll\u00e1nd, Who combats now the Saracens of Spain: If wounded he, will one of his survive? O God! What Knights those sixty left by him! Nor King nor captain better ever had.... Aoi. The Rout. CXLII. The Count Roll\u00e1nd casts o\u2019er the mounts and vales A glance: French corses strew the plains in heaps; He for them mourns as gentle chevalier. At such a sight the noble hero weeps: \u201cSeigneurs, to you may God be merciful! To all your souls may He grant Paradise, And there may they on beds of heavenly flowers Repose!\u2014No better vassals lived! so long Have ye served me! So many lands for Carle Ye won!\u2014The Emperor for this ill fate Has nurtured you!\u2014O land of France, most sweet Art thou, but now forsaken and a waste. Barons of France, to-day I see you die For me; nor can I save or e\u2019en defend Your lives. Be God your aid, who ne\u2019er played false! Olivier, brother, I must not fail thee! If other death comes not, of grief I die. Come, sire companion ... come to fight again!\u201d Aoi. CXLIII. Soon to the field returns the Count Roll\u00e1nd With Durendal in hand; as a true knight He fights. Faldrun del Pin he cleaves in half With twenty-four among the bravest foes. Never was man so bent upon revenge. As run wild deer before the chasing hounds, Before Roll\u00e1nd the Pagans flee.\u2014\u201dWell done!\u201d The Archbishop cries, \u201cSuch valor a true Knight Should have, when mounted, armed, on his good steed! Else, not four deniers is he worth: a monk In cloister should he be, and spend his life In praying for our sins!....\u201d \u201cStrike,\u201d said Roll\u00e0nd, \u201cNo quarter!\u201d58\u2014At the word the French renew The combat ... yet the Christian loss was great. Aoi. CXLIV. When soldiers on the battle-field expect No quarter\u2014desperate they fight; and thus The French, like lions, fiercely stand at bay. Like a true baron King Marsile rides forth Upon his steed Gaignon, and spurs him on Against Bevum, of Belne and Digun lord, His buckler cleaves, his hauberk with a blow Shatters, and lays him dead upon the field. 58\t No mercy. 111","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 Then fall beneath the Pagan King, Ivoire And Ivun; then Gerard de Roussillon. 59\u2014 The Count Roll\u00e1nd is nigh and cries aloud: \u201cGod give damnation unto thee who thus So foully slay\u2019st my friends! But ere we part, Dearly shalt thou abye it, and to-day Shalt learn the name my good sword bears.\u201d\u2014He strikes The King a true Knight\u2019s stroke, and his right hand Lops at the wrist; then Turfaleu the fair, Marsile\u2019s own son, beheads.60 The Pagans say: \u201cAid us, Mahum!61 Avenge us, Gods of ours, On Carle, who brought such villains to our land, As rather than depart will die.\u201d\u2014And each To each cries: \u201cLet us fly!\u201d\u2014Upon the word, A hundred thousand turn in sudden flight. Whoever calls them, ne\u2019er will they return. Aoi. CXLV. Alas, it not avails! If Marsile flies, His uncle Marganice unhurt remained. \u2018Tis he who held Carthage, Alferne, Garnaille, And Ethiopia, a land accursed; Chief of the Blacks, a thick-nosed, large-eared race. Of these he more than fifty thousand leads, Who ride on proudly, full of wrath, and shout The Pagan war-cry.\u2014\u201dHere,\u201d said Count Roll\u00e0nd, \u201cHere shall we fall as martyrs. Well I know Our end is nigh; but dastard I count him Who sells not dear his life. Barons, strike well, Strike with your burnished swords, and set such price On death and life, that naught of shame shall fall On our sweet France. When Carle, my lord, shall come Upon this field, and see such slaughter here Of Saracens, fifteen to one of ours, Then will he breathe a blessing on his Knights.\u201d Aoi. Olivier\u2019s Death. CXLVI. When sees Roll\u00e1nd this tribe accursed, more black Than ink, with glist\u2019ning teeth, their only gleam Of white, he said:\u2014\u201dTruly I know to-day We die! Strike, Frenchmen, that is my command.\u201d And Olivier, \u201cWoe to the laggards,\u201d cries. These words the French hearts fired to meet the fray. Aoi. CXLVII. The Pagans, when they mark how few the French, Are filled with pride and comfort, and they say One to the other:\u2014\u201dTheir King Carle is wrong!\u201d\u2014 Upon his sorrel steed sits Marganice; Urging him hard with pricking spurs of gold, 59\t The three Paladins not yet mentioned. 60\t That is, Roland beheads Turfaleu, Marsile\u2019s son. 61\t Mohammed. 112","The Song of Roland Encounters Olivier\u2014strikes him behind, Drives his white hauberk-links into his heart, And through in front came forth the pointed lance. The Kalif62 cries:\u2014\u201dThat blow struck home! Carlmagne, For thy mishap, left you to guard the Pass! That he has wronged us, little may he boast. Your death alone for us a vengeance full!\u201d Aoi. CXLVIII. Olivier knows his death-wound. In his hand He grasps Halteclere\u2019s bright steel, and strikes a blow Well aimed upon the Kalif \u2019s pointed helm; He scatters golden flow\u2019rs and gems in dust. His head the trenchant blade cleaves to the teeth, And dead the Kalif falls.\u2014\u201dPagan accursed,\u201d He cries, \u201cnot here shalt thou say Carle lost aught; To wife nor lady shalt thou ever boast In thine own land, that thou hast reft from Carle One denier\u2019s63 worth, or me or others harmed!\u201d And then he called Roll\u00e0nd unto his aid. Aoi. CXLIX. Olivier feels that he is hurt to death. No vengeance can suffice him; Baron-like He strikes amid the press, cuts shields embossed And ashen shafts, and spears, feet, shoulders, wrists And breasts of horsemen. He who saw him thus Dismember Saracens, corse over corse Heap on the ground, would of a vassal true Remembrance keep. Nor does he now forget The rallying cry of Carle:\u2014\u201dMontjoie!\u201d he cries Loudly and clear; then calls Roll\u00e1nd, his friend And compeer:\u2014\u201dSire companion, stand by me! This day our breaking hearts forever part!\u201d Aoi. CL. Roll\u00e1nd looks Olivier full in the face; Pale, livid, colorless; pure crimson blood Drips from his body, and streams on the earth. \u201cGod!\u201d cried Roll\u00e1nd, \u201cI know not what to do, Companion, friend, thy courage was betrayed To-day; nor will such courage e\u2019er be seen In human heart. Sweet France, oh! how shalt thou, As widow,64 wail thy vassals true and brave, Humbled and wrecked! The great heart of King Carle Will break!\u201d He spake and on his saddle swooned. Aoi. CLI. Behold Roll\u00e1nd, there, fainting on his steed, While Olivier stands wounded to the death. 62\t Caliph, Islamic nobleman. 63\t A French coin. 64\t France is the widow, bereft of her greatest defenders. 113","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 So great the loss of blood, his troubled eyes See naught afar or near, nor mortal man Can recognize. Encount\u2019ring there Roll\u00e1nd, Upon his golden-studded helm he struck A dreadful blow, which to the nose-plate cleft, And split the crest in twain, but left the head Untouched. Roll\u00e1nd at this, upon him looks, And softly, sweetly asks:\u2014\u201dSire compagnon! Was that blow meant for me? I am Roll\u00e1nd By whom you are beloved so well; to me Could you by any chance, defiance give?\u201d Said Olivier:\u2014\u201dI hear your speech, but see You now no more. May God behold you, friend! I struck the blow; beseech you, pardon me.\u201d Roll\u00e1nd responds:\u2014\u201dI am not wounded\u2014here And before God I pardon you.\u201d At this, Each to the other bends in courtesy. With such great tenderness and love they part. Aoi. CLII. Olivier feels the agony of death; His vacant eyes roll wildly in his head, And all his hearing and his sight are lost. Dismounting, on the ground he lies, and smites His breast, aloud confessing all his sins; With joined hands tow\u2019rd Heaven lifted up He prays to God to give him Paradise, To bless Carl\u2019magne, sweet France, and far beyond All other men, Roll\u00e1nd, his compagnon. His heart fails\u2014forward droops his helmet\u2014prone Upon the earth he lies\u2014\u2019tis over now.... The Count is dead. Roll\u00e1nd, the Baron, mourns And weeps as never mortal mourned before. Aoi. CLIII. When sees the Count Roll\u00e1nd the breath of life Gone from his friend, his body stretched on earth, His face low in the dust, his tears gush out With heavy sobs. Then tenderly he speaks: \u201cAlas! for all thy valor, comrade dear! Year after year, day after day, a life Of love we led; ne\u2019er didst thou wrong to me, Nor I to thee. If death takes thee away, My life is but a pain.\u201d While speaking thus, The Marchis65 faints on Veillantif, his steed. But still firm in his stirrups of pure gold: Where\u2019er Roll\u00e1nd may ride, he cannot fall. Aoi. CLIV. Scarce hath the Count recovered from his swoon, When all the great disaster meets his sight; The French lie on the field; all lost to him Save the Archbishop and Gualtier de l\u2019Hum, 65\t Marquis, another noble title. 114","The Song of Roland Who had descended from the mountain height Where he the men of Spain all day withstood Till all his own fell \u2018neath the Pagan swords. Willed he or not, he fled into the vale, And now upon Roll\u00e1nd he calls for aid; \u201cMost gentle Count, most valiant, where art thou? Ne\u2019er had I fear where\u2019er thou wert!\u2014\u2019tis I, Gualtier, who conquered Ma\u00eblgut, who am Old gray-haired Dro\u00fcn\u2019s nephew; till this day My courage won thy love. So well I fought Against the Saracens, my spear was broke, My shield was pierced, my hauberk torn and wrung, And in my body eight steel darts I bear. Done are my days, but dear the last I sold!\u201d The words of that brave knight Roll\u00e1nd has heard, Spurs on his steed and gallops to his help. Aoi. CLV. With grief and rage Roll\u00e1nd\u2019s great heart is full; Amidst the thick ranks of a swarming foe He rides. He fights\u2014and twenty Pagans fall Slain by his hand; by Gualtier\u2019s six, and five By the Archbishop\u2019s. Loud the Pagans cry: \u201cVile wretches these! Let none escape alive! Eternal shame to them who dare not make Attack; foul recreants those who let their flight Avail.\u201d\u2014Renewing then their hues and cries, The Pagans rush from all parts \u2018gainst the knights. Aoi. Charlemagne Approaches. CLVI. The Count Roll\u00e1nd was ever great in war; Most valiant is Gualtier de l\u2019Hum; Turpin The Archbishop, of a valor proved: each leaves The other naught to do, and \u2018mid the throng Strikes Pagans down, who though one thousand foot And forty thousand horsemen mustering, yet Dare not approach, forsooth; but from afar Against them hurl their jav\u2019lins, spears and darts, Their lances and winged arrows. First of all Is slain Gualtier; Turpin de Reins\u2019 good shield Is pierced, his helmet broken, and his head Wounded, his hauberk shattered and dislinked; Four spears have pierced his body; his good steed Dies under him. Alas! the Archbishop falls. Aoi. CLVII. Hardly had Turpin fallen on the earth, By four spear-shafts transfixed, when the brave knight Sprang quickly to his feet once more. His look Sought for Roll\u00e1nd to whom he ran in haste. One word he said:\u2014\u201dUnconquered yet am I! While life doth last, a true knight yields it not!\u201d He draws Almace, his sword of burnished steel, 115","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 And rushing \u2018mid the throng, one thousand blows And more he deals.\u2014Carle said in after days, Turpin spared none, as dead upon the field He saw four hundred men, some cut in twain, Some with lopped heads: so says the Geste of France, And one who saw the field, the brave Saint-Gille For whom God showed his might; who in the cloister Of Lo\u00fcm wrote the record of these deeds. Who knows not this, he knows not any thing. Aoi. CLVIII. As hero fights the Count Roll\u00e1nd; but all His body burns with heat and drips with sweat; His head is torn by pain; his temple burst By that strong blast he gave the olifant. Still would he know if Carle returns; once more He blows his horn\u2014Alas, with feeble blast. Carle caught the distant sound, and, list\u2019ning, waits: \u201cSeigneurs,\u201d cried he, \u201cgreat evils fall apace; I hear his dying blast upon his horn. If we would find him yet alive, we need Urge on our steeds. Let all our trumpets blow!\u201d Then sixty thousand trumps rang forth their peals; The hills re\u00ebcho, and the vales respond. The Pagans hear\u2014and stay their gabbling mirth. One to the other says:\u2014\u201d\u2019Tis Carle who comes!\u201d Aoi. CLIX. The Pagans say:\u2014\u201dThe Emperor returns; These are the clarions of the French we hear. If Carle should come, \u2018twill be our doom; if lives Roll\u00e1nd, the war begins anew, and Spain Our land is lost to us for evermore.\u201d Four hundred warriors well armed cap-a-pie, The bravest of the host, then closed their ranks And dashed in fierce attack against Roll\u00e1nd. Mighty the deeds the Count must now achieve! Aoi. CLX. As they draw near, Roll\u00e1nd calls up his pride And summons all his strength to meet the charge. No foot of ground he yields while life remains. Firm on his courser Veillantif he sits And gores his flanks with spurs of purest gold. Into the thickest ranks he and Turpin The Archbishop rush. And now the Pagans all Unto each other cry: \u201cHence, friends, away! The horns of those of France we now have heard, Carlemagne the mighty Emperor returns!\u201d Aoi. CLXI. Ne\u2019er could the Count Roll\u00e1nd a coward love, Nor proud, nor wicked men, nor faithless knights. 116","The Song of Roland He calls to the Archbishop: \u201cYou, on foot, And I on horseback, sire! For love of you I by your side will stand; together we Will share or good or ill; I leave you not For aught of human mold. This day we shall Hurl back the Pagan charge, and Durendal Shall deal his mightiest blows!\u201d\u2014To this replies The Archbishop: \u201cTraitor he who strikes not well! King Carle returns\u2014Great shall his vengeance be!\u201d Aoi. CLXII. The Pagans say: \u201cFor such ill were we born! What fatal morn this day for us has ris\u2019n! Dead lie our lords and Peers! With his great host King Carle returns, the mighty Baron\u2014Hark! His clarions sound, and loud the cry \u2018Montjoie;\u2019 Roll\u00e1nd has so great pride, no man of flesh Can make him yield, or vanquished fall. \u2018Twere best We pierced him from afar, and left him lying Upon the field!\u201d\u2014\u2014\u2019Twas done: darts, lances, spears, Javelins, winged arrows flew so thick, That his good shield was pierced, his hauberk rent And torn apart\u2014his body yet unharmed. Veillantif, pierced with thirty wounds, falls dead Beneath the Count.\u2014The affrighted Pagans fly. The Count Roll\u00e1nd stands on the field, alone. Aoi. The Last Benediction of the Archbishop. CLXIII. Raging in wrath the Pagans fly, and toward The land of Spain they haste. The Count Roll\u00e1nd Pursues them not, for Veillantif lies dead. On foot he stands whether he will or not. To help Turpin, the Archbishop, fast he ran, His helm unclasped, removed the hauberk white And light, then ripped the sides of his blialt66 To find his gaping wounds; then tenderly Pressing him in his arms, on the green sward He laid him gently down, and fondly prayed: \u201cO noble man, grant me your leave in this; Our brave compeers, so dear to us, have breathed Their last\u2014we should not leave them on the field; I will their bodies seek and gather here, To lay them out before you.\u201d\u2014\u201dGo, and soon Return,\u201d the Archbishop said; \u201cthe field is yours And also mine, thanks to Almighty God!\u201d Aoi. CLXIV. Alone the Count Roll\u00e1nd retraced his steps Throughout the field. Vales, mounts, he searched, and found Gerin and his companion Gerier, then Berengier and Otun; here Anse\u00efs, 66\t \u201cA sort of undergarment made of gold and silk brocade worn in time of war under the coat of mail, and in time of peace under the mantle of fur. In the latter case it was of silk.\u201d (Rabillon, 208). 117","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 There Sansun, then beyond, Gerard the old De Roussillon he found\u2014one after one He bore each knight within his arms, and placed Them gently, side by side, before the knees Of Turpin who cannot restrain his tears; With lifted hands he blesses them and says: \u201cMost hapless Knights!\u2014May God the Glorious Receive your souls, and in his Paradise \u2018Mid holy flowers place them!\u2014In this hour Of death, my deepest grief is that no more The mighty Emperor I shall behold!\u201d Aoi. CLXV. Roll\u00e1nd turns back, and searching through the field, Has found, alas! his comrade Olivier.... He pressed him \u2018gainst his bosom tenderly, And, as he could, returning to Turpin, Stretched on a shield he lays him down among The other knights. The Archbishop then assoils67 And signs him with the holy cross. The grief And pity were more sore than heart can bear.... Then said Roll\u00e1nd:\u2014\u201dFair comrade Olivier, Son of the good Count Renier, he who held The marches to the distant shores of Gennes; To break a lance, to pierce a shield, the brave To counsel, traitors to dismay and foil, No land e\u2019er saw a better chevalier.\u201d Aoi. CLXVI. When Count Roll\u00e1nd beheld his Peers lie dead, And Olivier, that friend so tenderly Beloved, his soul by pity was o\u2019erflowed; Tears from his eyes gush out, his countenance Turns pale; distressed, he can no longer stand. Would he or not, he swooned and fell to earth. The Archbishop said: \u201cBaron, what woe is yours!\u201d Aoi. CLXVII. The Archbishop, when he saw Count Roll\u00e1nd swoon, Felt keener grief than e\u2019er he felt before; Stretched forth his hand, and took the olifant.\u2014 Ronceval there is a running stream; Thence will he water bring to Count Roll\u00e1nd. Staggering, with feeble steps, thither he goes, But loss of blood has made him all too weak: Ere he has gone an acre\u2019s length, his heart Fails, and he sinks in mortal agony. Aoi. CLXVIII. Meantime the Count Roll\u00e1nd revives.\u2014Erect He stands, but with great pain; then downward looks And upward. Then he sees the noble lord 67\t Absolves. 118","The Song of Roland The Archbishop, holy minister of God, Beyond his comrades lying on the sward Stretched out.\u2014He lifts his eyes to Heav\u2019n, recalls His sins, and raising both his join\u00e8d hands, He prays Our God to grant him paradise.\u2014 Turpin, Carle\u2019s Knight, is dead, who all his life, With doughty blows and sermons erudite, Ne\u2019er ceased to fight the Pagans. May the Lord Grant him His holy blessing evermore! Aoi. CLXIX. The Count Roll\u00e1nd sees lifeless on the field The Archbishop lie; gush from the gaping wounds His entrails in the dust, and through his skull The oozing brain pours o\u2019er his brow.\u2014In form Of holy Cross upon his breast Roll\u00e1nd Disposes both his hands so fair and white, And mourned him in the fashion of his land: \u201cO noble man! O knight of lineage pure! To the Glorious One of Heav\u2019n I thee commend; For ne\u2019er was man who Him more truly served, Nor since the Apostles\u2019 days, such prophet, strong, To keep God\u2019s law and draw the hearts of men. From ev\u2019ry pain your soul be freed, and wide Before it ope the Gates of Paradise!\u201d Aoi. Roland\u2019s Death. CLXX. Roll\u00e1nd now feels his death is drawing nigh: From both his ears the brain is oozing fast. For all his peers he prays that God may call Their souls to Him; to the Angel Gabriel He recommends his spirit. In one hand He takes the olifant, that no reproach May rest upon him; in the other grasps Durendal, his good sword. Forward he goes, Far as an arblast68 sends a shaft, across A new-tilled ground and toward the land of Spain. Upon a hill, beneath two lofty trees, Four terraces of marble spread:\u2014he falls Prone fainting on the green, for death draws near. Aoi. CLXXI. High are the mounts, and lofty are the trees. Four terraces are there, of marble bright: There Count Roll\u00e1nd lies senseless on the grass. Him at this moment spies a Saracen Who lies among the corpses, feigning death, His face and body all besmeared with blood. Sudden he rises to his feet, and bounds Upon the Baron.\u2014Handsome, brave and strong He was, but from his pride sprang mortal rage. He seized the body of Roll\u00e1nd, and grasped 68\t Crossbow. 119","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 His arms, exclaiming thus:\u2014\u201dHere vanquished Carle\u2019s Great nephew lies!\u201d\u2014\u201dThis sword to Araby I\u2019ll bear.\u201d\u2014He drew it;\u2014this aroused the Count. Aoi. CLXXII. Roll\u00e1nd perceived an alien hand would rob Him of his sword; his eyes he oped; one word He spoke:\u2014\u201dI trow,69 not one of us art thou!\u201d Then with his olifant from which he parts Never, he smites the golden studded helm, Crushing the steel, the head, the bones; both eyes Are from their sockets beaten out\u2014o\u2019erthrown Dead at the Baron\u2019s feet he falls:\u2014\u201dO wretch,\u201d He cries, \u201chow durst thou, or for good or ill, Lay hands upon Roll\u00e1nd? Who hears of this Will call thee fool. Mine olifant is cleft, Its gems and gold all scattered by the blow.\u201d Aoi. CLXXIII. Now feels Roll\u00e1nd that death is near at hand And struggles up with all his force; his face Grows livid;\u2014[Durendal, his naked sword] He holds;\u2014beside him rises a gray rock On which he strikes ten mighty blows through grief And rage\u2014The steel but grinds; it breaks not, nor Is notched; then cries the Count:\u2014\u201dSaint Mary, help! O Durendal! Good sword! ill starred art thou! Though we two part, I care not less for thee. What victories together thou and I, Have gained, what kingdoms conquered, which now holds White-bearded Carle! No coward\u2019s hand shall grasp Thy hilt: a valiant knight has borne thee long, Such as none shall e\u2019er bear in France the Free!\u201d Aoi. CLXXIV. Roll\u00e1nd smites hard the rock of Sardonix;70 The steel but grinds, it breaks not, nor grows blunt; Then seeing that he can not break his sword, Thus to himself he mourns for Durendal: \u201cO good my sword, how bright and pure! Against The sun what flashing light thy blade reflects! When Carle passed through the valley of Moriane, The God of Heaven by his Angel sent Command that he should give thee to a Count, A valiant captain; it was then the great And gentle King did gird thee to my side.\u2014 With thee I won for him Anjou\u2014Bretaigne;71 For him with thee I won Poitou, le Maine And Normandie72 the free; I won Provence And Aquitaine, and Lumbardie,73 and all 69\t Believe. 70\t Sardonyx, onyx and sard. 71\t Brittany. 72\t Normandy. 73\t Lombardy. 120","The Song of Roland The Romanie;74 I won for him Bavi\u00e8re,75 All Flandre76\u2014Buguerie77\u2014all Puillanie,78 Costentinnoble79 which allegiance paid, And Saxonie80 submitted to his power; For him I won Escoce81 and Galle,82 Irlande83 And Engleterre84 he made his royal seat; With thee I conquered all the lands and realms Which Carle, the hoary-bearded monarch, rules. Now for this sword I mourn.... Far better die Than in the hands of Pagans let it fall! May God, Our Father, save sweet France this shame!\u201d Aoi. CLXXV. Upon the grey rock mightily he smites, Shattering it more than I can tell; the sword But grinds.\u2014It breaks not\u2014nor receives a notch, And upwards springs more dazzling in the air. When sees the Count Roll\u00e1nd his sword can never break, Softly within himself its fate he mourns: \u201cO Durendal, how fair and holy thou! In thy gold-hilt are relics rare; a tooth Of great saint Pierre\u2014some blood of Saint Basile, A lock of hair of Monseigneur Saint Denis, A fragment of the robe of Sainte-Marie. It is not right that Pagans should own thee; By Christian hand alone be held. Vast realms I shall have conquered once that now are ruled By Carle, the King with beard all blossom-white, And by them made great emperor and Lord. May thou ne\u2019er fall into a cowardly hand.\u201d Aoi. CLXXVI. The Count Roll\u00e1nd feels through his limbs the grasp Of death, and from his head ev\u2019n to his heart A mortal chill descends. Unto a pine He hastens, and falls stretched upon the grass. Beneath him lie his sword and olifant, And toward the Heathen land he turns his head, That Carle and all his knightly host may say: \u201cThe gentle Count a conqueror has died....\u201d Then asking pardon for his sins, or great Or small, he offers up his glove to God. Aoi. 74\t Romania (?). 75\t Bavaria. 76\t Flanders. 77\t Bulgaria. 78\t Poland. 79\t Constantinople. 80\t Germany home of the Saxons. 81\t Scotland. 82\t Gaul (Gallic France). 83\t Ireland. 84\t England. 121","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 CLXXVII. The Count Roll\u00e1nd feels now his end approach. Against a pointed rock, and facing Spain, He lies. Three times he beats his breast, and says: \u201cMea culpa! Oh, my God, may through thy grace, Be pardoned all my sins, or great or small, Until this hour committed since my birth!\u201d Then his right glove he offers up to God, And toward him angels from high Heav\u2019n descend. Aoi. CLXXVIII. Beneath a pine Roll\u00e1nd doth lie, and looks Toward Spain\u2014He broods on many things of yore: On all the lands he conquered, on sweet France, On all his kinsmen, on great Carle his lord Who nurtured him;\u2014he sighs\u2014nor can restrain His tears, but can not yet himself forget; Recalls his sins, and for the grace of God He prays:\u2014\u201dOur Father, never yet untrue, Who Saint-Lazare raised from the dead, and saved Thy Daniel from the lions\u2019 claws\u2014Oh, free My soul from peril, from my whole life\u2019s sins!\u201d His right hand glove he offered up to God; Saint Gabriel took the glove.\u2014With head reclined Upon his arm, with hands devoutly joined He breathed his last. God sent his Cherubim, Saint-Rapha\u00ebl, Saint Michiel del Peril. Together with them Gabriel came.\u2014All bring The soul of Count Roll\u00e1nd to Paradise.... Aoi. The Chastisement of the Saracens. CLXXIX. Roll\u00e1nd is dead: God has his soul in heaven. To Ronceval the Emperor has come. There, neither road nor any path is seen, Nor vacant space, nor ell, nor foot of land That mounds of mangled bodies cover not, Pagans or French.\u2014The Emperor exclaims: \u201cFair nephew, where art thou? The Archbishop, where? And Olivier, alas, where are they all? G\u00e9rin, G\u00e9rier, the two companions, where Are they? And where is Otes and B\u00e9rengier, Ives and Ivoire both to my heart so dear? The Gascuin Engelier, Sansun the Duke, Anse\u00efs the rash, Gerard de Roussillon The old, and my twelve Peers I left behind, What fate is theirs?\u201d\u2014What boots it? None replies.\u201d\u2014 \u201c\u2014God,\u201d cries the King, \u201cwhat grief is mine to think \u201cI stood not here the battle to begin.\u201d He tears his beard with anger; all his knights And barons weep great tears; dizzy with woe And swooning, twenty thousand fall to earth. Duke Naimes feels pity overflow his heart. Aoi. 122","The Song of Roland CLXXX. No baron is there now, no chevalier Who, in his pity, sheds not tears for sons, For brothers\u2014nephews\u2014friends\u2014and for liege-lords. Many have fallen swooning on the earth, But Duke Naimes bore himself as valorous knight: He foremost said to Carle:\u2014\u201dBehold two leagues Away!\u2014The roads are dark with clouds of dust. There swarm the Pagan tribes.... Ride on them now, Avenge this bitter woe.\u201d\u2014\u201dO God,\u201d said Carle, \u201cAre they already flown so far?\u2014our rights And honor shield! Those Pagans took from me The flower of my Sweet France!\u201d\u2014The King commands Gebuin, Otun, Tedbalt de Reins and Count Milun:\u2014\u201dWatch ye the field, the vales, the mounts; The slain, leave to their rest; see that no beast Nor lion, squire nor page approach. I charge You, let no man upon them lay his hand Until, with God\u2019s assistance, we return.\u201d They lovingly and with sweet tone reply: \u201cThus shall we do, just Emperor, dear sire!\u201d Upon the field they keep one thousand knights. Aoi. CLXXXI. Now bids the Emperor his trumpets blow, Then forward at the head of his great host He rides, that Baron true. Of those of Spain He finds the tracks, points out the road; in quick Pursuit all follow Carle.... When sees the King The eve decline, he on the verdant grass Dismounts, and prostrate prays to God our Lord The sun to stay, the shades of night hold back And longer make the day. To him appears A Counselor-Angel with the swift command; \u201cRide on, O King, nor fear that night shall fall! God knows that thou hast lost the flower of France; But vengeance canst have now upon that horde Of unbelievers.\u201d Thus the Angel spake. The Emp\u2019ror rises and remounts his steed. Aoi. CLXXXII. To Carlemagne Our Lord now showed his might; The sun stays in its course. The Pagans fly, And fast the French pursuing, overtake Them in the Val-Tenebre. They drive them on Toward Sarraguce, while close behind them fall The upraised swords, and strew the ground with dead. No issue, no escape, by road or pass! In front deep Ebro rolls its mighty waves: No boat, no barge, no raft. They call for help On Tervagant, then plunge into the flood. Vain was their trust: some, weighted with their arms, Sink in a moment; others are swept down, And those most favored swallow monstrous draughts. 123","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 All drown most cruelly. The French cry out: \u201cFor your own woe wished ye to see Roll\u00e1nd!\u201d Aoi. Charlemagne and Baligant at Ronceval (Summary and Excerpt) Meanwhile, back at Saragossa, Marsile has summoned the aid of Baligant, his liege lord. Marsile, dying and unable to lead, hands over the defense of Saragossa to Baligant. Baligant leads his army to engage Charlemagne at Ronceval, where the Franks are mourning and honoring the dead. Both armies fight with distinction, and Charlemagne meets Baligant on the battle field: CCLXIII. The mighty Emir85 with a giant\u2019s strength Smites Carle86 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\u2019s 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:\u2014\u201dWhat ails thee, great King?\u201d Aoi. CCLXIV. When Carle the Angel\u2019s 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, \u201cMontjoie!\u201d Hearing his shout, Duke Naimes hastes up, and brings The charger Tecendur for Carle the great To mount. The Pagans turn their backs\u2014God wills They should not stay. The Franks have their desires. Aoi. The Death of Marsile; Capture of Bramimunde CCLXVI. Amidst the sultry heat and clouds of dust The Pagans rous\u00e8d, 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\u2019er loved: their crowns no holy tonsure wear. She cries aloud:\u2014\u201dAid us, Mahum!87 Oh aid! O gentle King! Already vanquished are Our men, the Emir88 slain in shameful death!\u201d On hearing this, Marsile turned to the wall 85\t Baligant is Emir of Babylon. 86\t Charlemagne. 87\t Mohammed. 88\t Baligant. 124","The Song of Roland His covered face, and amid bitter tears His life departed. Soon the eager fiends Bore off to judgment his sin-burthened89 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\u2019s synagogues And mosques for all their idols and graved signs Of gods\u2014these 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. 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.\u2014 Now comes to greet him the fair [lady] Aude, And asks the King:\u2014\u201dWhere is Roll\u00e1nd the chief Who pledged his faith to take me for his wife?\u201d Sore-pained, heart-broken, Carle, with weeping eyes, Tears his white beard.\u2014\u201dAh! 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.\u201d Aude answers:\u2014\u201dTo my ear these words are strange. May God, His saints, His angels, all forfend That, if Roll\u00e1nd lives not, I still should live.\u201d 89\t Burdened. 125","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 Her color fades, she falls prone at the feet Of Carlemagne\u2014dead ... God\u2019s 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 \u2018tis 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.\u2014\u2014 All night they watched the body, and at morn Beside a shrine gently she was entombed With highest honors by the King\u2019s command. Aoi. CCLXXII. The Emperor is once more at Aix. There stands Amid the city \u2018fore 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\u2019s Chapelle. A solemn feast It was; some say the Baron Saint Silvestre\u2019s. This day began the plea and history Of Ganelon who wove the treason\u2019s plot. The Emperor bade them drag him to his bar. Aoi. CCLXXIV. \u201cSeigneurs Barons,\u201d said to them Carle the King, \u201cJudge Ganelon according to the law.\u2014 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.\u201d Then Ganelon:\u2014\u201dMay I be cursed ere I Deny. Of wealth and honors had [Roll\u00e1nd] Deprived me, and for this, his loss and death I wrought, but treason none I will confess.\u201d Respond the French:\u2014\u201dOn this we counsel take.\u201d Aoi. CCLXXV. In presence of the King stands Ganelon With bearing hardy, florid countenance; 126","The Song of Roland 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 \u2018round him stand; then with firm voice exclaims: \u201cBarons! Now hear me all, for love of God! I to the Emperor\u2019s host belonged, and served Him ever in all faith and love. Roll\u00e1nd, 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 Roll\u00e1nd 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.\u201d Reply the French:\u2014\u201dAll this we well shall weigh.\u201d 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: \u2018tis 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:\u2014\u201dIn you my trust I place; my life from death, my name from shame Preserve!\u201d\u2014Said Pinabel:\u2014\u201dThou 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.\u201d\u2014And at his feet falls Ganelon. Aoi. CCLXXVII. Baiviers, Saines, Poitevins, Normans and French In council met;\u2014Allemans, Tiedeis in great Array. Those from Alverne most courteous prove And show more kindness unto Pinabel. One to the others said:\u2014\u201dTo leave this plea Right would it be, and pray Carl\u2019magne, this once To pardon Ganelon who, from this day, Will serve his lord with truer faith and love. Roll\u00e1nd lies in his grave; nor wealth, nor gold Restores him to your eyes. This cruel fight Is folly.\u201d\u2014All the Knights approve, save one, Tierri, a brother of the Lord Geffrei. Aoi. CCLXXVIII. To Carle his Barons come again, and say: \u201cWe 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. Roll\u00e1nd lies in his grave; ne\u2019er shall we see Him more, nor treasures e\u2019er can bring him back.\u201d 127","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 Exclaimed the King: \u201cVile traitors are ye all!\u201d Aoi. CLXXIX. Now, seeing all will fail him, o\u2019er Carle\u2019s eyes And features gloom descends; by grief o\u2019erwhelmed He cries: \u201cUnhappy that I am!\u201d Then stood [Tierri], the brother of Geffrei, the Duke D\u2019Anjou, before the King. Thin, light of frame, Hair raven-black, [face] somewhat brown of hue, In height nor tall nor short; with courtesy He spake thus to the Emp\u2019ror: \u201cFair sire King, Be not cast down. That I have served you well Ere this, you know. \u2018Tis my ancestral right To sit among the judges of the plea. However guilty was Roll\u00e1nd against Count Ganelon, his duty to the King Should have restrained his hate. A treason foul Ganelon wrought against Roll\u00e1nd; forsworn In perjury tow\u2019rd you, he lost himself. For all his crimes his death I here demand, Death by the cord; his body to the dogs Be thrown away\u2014the perjurer\u2019s just doom. Should any of his kin deny the words I speak, this sword of mine girt to my side Will make them good.\u201d\u2014All cry: \u201cWell have you said.\u201d Aoi. CCLXXX. Then toward the King advances Pinabel; Tall, strong and swift, and brave. Strike he but once, No second blow need follow; to the King He said: \u201cSire, unto you belongs this plea. Command these clamors to be hushed. There stands Tierri who now his judgment has pronounced. The lie I give him and to fight defy!\u201d With this his right hand glove of deer-skin gave Unto the King who said: \u201cI must receive Good pledges.\u201d Of his kin then thirty knights Were given as legal sureties of his pledge. \u201cI also give my pledge,\u201d the Emperor said, \u201cAnd have them guarded safe till judgment pass.\u201d Aoi. CCLXXXI. When Tierri sees that now the fight is near, He gives the Emperor his right hand glove. To him the sureties Carle himself provides, Bids that they bring four benches to the place Whereon the combatants shall sit. The terms Are judged by all the others as most fair. Ogier de Dannemarche was chosen to rule The lists. Then for their steeds and arms both called. Aoi. CCLXXXII. Both knights now made them ready for the fight, 128","The Song of Roland Were shriven, assoiled, and blessed; a mass have heard, Communion have received, and richest alms Bequeathed to monasteries.\u2014Before striking They both appear.\u2014Gold spurs their heels adorn; They wear white hauberks light and strong; bright helms Clasp on their heads, and gold hilt swords are girt Upon their thighs, and to their necks are bound Strong quartered shields; they wield in each right hand A trenchant sword, and on fleet steeds they mount; Then melt in tears one hundred thousand knights Who for Roll\u00e1nd\u2019s sake wish Tierri well. Yea\u2014but God knows what way the thing will end. Aoi. CCLXXXIII. Beyond the town of Aix a plain extends: And here our Barons will the combat try. Most valiant knights are both; the steeds they ride Are swift and stout; with spurs in flanks, and freed Of rein, they dash.\u2014The warriors all their might And skill unite to strike the surest blow. Bucklers beneath the shock are torn and crushed, White hauberks rent in shreds, asunder bursts Each courser\u2019s girth, the saddles, turning, fall. One hundred thousand men look weeping on.... Aoi. CCLXXXIV. Both knights leap on the earth, and, quick as light, Stand face to face.\u2014Strong, fiery Pinabel And Tierri for each other seek. Their steeds Are fled.\u2014But their gold-hilted swords they wield; And on the helms of steel they shower such blows As rashed the thongs. Loudly the knights lament, And Carle exclaims:\u2014\u201dShow thou the right, O God!\u201d Aoi. CCLXXXV. Cried Pinabel:\u2014\u201dTierri, surrender thou! Thy vassal I will be in faith and love, And to thy pleasure will I yield my wealth; But let the King forgive Count Ganelon!\u201d Tierri replied:\u2014\u201dThy offers all are vain; Vile treason were it such a pact to make; But God shall judge us and make plain the right.\u201d Aoi. CCLXXXVI. Then Tierri spake:\u2014\u201dI hold thee, Pinabel, As Baron true, great, strong, of handsome mold; Thy peers acknowledge thee as valiant knight; Well, let this combat cease, between the King And thee a covenant I will strive to make. On Ganelon such justice shall be done That future ages shall record the doom.\u201d They grasp again their swords and hew Each other\u2019s gold-encrusted helm with rage 129","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 So rash that sparkling fires spurt through the air. No power will now disjoint the combatants: The death of one can only close the strife. Aoi. CCLXXXVII. No braver man than Pinabel.\u2014Such blows He deals on Tierri\u2019s helmet of Provence, That the sparks fly in showers, and, falling, set The grass ablaze. Then aiming at his foe His keen-edged brand, down to the brow cuts through His helm; the blade glides down across his face, And plows his right cheek with a deep red gash; Unto his stomach is the haubert rent, But God protects him, and averts his death. Aoi. CCLXXXVIII. Tierri, on seeing blood gush from his brow And tinge the grassy field, strikes Pinabel On his steel-burnished helmet, and cuts through To the nose-plate. His head is cleft in twain And gushes forth the brain. This fatal blow Gives Pinabel his death, and ends the fight. The French exclaim:\u2014\u201dO wondrous work of God! Full right it is that Ganelon be hanged With all his kin who sureties were for him!\u201d Aoi. CCLXXXIX. Tierri had won, and on the battle-field The Emperor Carle arrived with an escort Of forty Barons,\u2014Naimes the Duke, Ogier De Dannemarche, Geffrei d\u2019Anjou, Willalmes De Blaive.\u2014In close embrace the King has pressed Tierri, and with his mantle\u2019s sables wiped The warrior\u2019s face; then lays his furs aside And on his shoulders others are arrayed. Meanwhile the knight, by friendly hands disarmed, On an Arabian mule is placed, and so This valorous Baron full of joy returns To Aix.\u2014Amid the place they all dismount, And now the sureties must abide their doom. Aoi. CCXC. Carlemagne around him calls his counts and dukes: \u201cWhat counsel give ye touching those I kept, Unto this plea who came for Ganelon Themselves sworn hostages for Pinabel?\u201d Respond the French:\u2014\u201dLet none of them survive!\u201d\u2014 Carle then commands a road-keeper, Basbrun: \u201cHang them all up on yon accursed tree! By this gray beard of mine, I swear, if one Escape, thou diest but a villain\u2019s death!\u201d\u2014 Answered the man:\u2014\u201dWhat else but to obey?\u201d\u2014 Then by a hundred sergeants roughly seized, 130","The Song of Roland Those thirty men are hanged.\u2014Who man betrays Destroys himself and others drags to death. Aoi. CCXCI. And now have turned away Baiviers, Allemans, Poitevins, Bretons and Normans; but more Than all, the French advise that Ganelon Should die a death of torture. Then they tie With cords his hands and feet. Four sergeants bring Four wild and fiery destriers, made mad By a mare \u2018mid the field. A fearful end For Ganelon; bound between them, limb from limb Is rent away, each nerve and muscle stretched And torn. The clear blood streams upon the green. Thus perished Ganelon by a felon\u2019s death.... Traitors of evil deeds must never boast. Aoi. CCXCII. When the Emperor Carle had wreaked his full revenge, He called the bishops from the realms of France, And from Baviere, and those of Alemaigne: \u201cNow in my [court] have I a captive, sprung From noble race. Such sermons has she heard, So good examples seen, she will believe In the true God, and Christian faith embrace. Baptize her so that He may save her soul; God-mothers choose her of our noblest dames.\u201d With a great company the Baths at Aix Were thronged, and soon before the holy Fonts The Queen received the name of Juliane: Henceforth a Christian holding fast the Truth. Aoi. CCXCIII. But when the Emperor had made complete His justice and his heavy wrath assuaged, And brought Queen Bramimunde to Christian faith, The day was over and the night had fall\u2019n. The King sought rest within his vaulted room. Saint Gabriel brought him word from God and said: \u201cCarle, of thy empire summon all the hosts For swiftest marching to the land of Bire; So shalt thou succor King Vivien in Imphe, The city compassed by the Pagan foe. The Christians look to thee and cry for help.\u201d\u2014 Will has he none to go, the King, but moans:\u2014 \u201cO, God,\u201d quoth he, \u201cso troublous is my life!\u201d\u2014 Whereat he weeps, and tears his hoary beard. Aoi. 131","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 The Lais of Marie de France Marie de France Written in the late 1100s C.E. France (Anglo-Norman) In her works, the author states that her name is Marie, and she is from France. No other detail about the au- thor\u2019s life is known, although there are quite a few educated guesses about her possible ties to various royal courts. Marie writes in Anglo-Norman (a version of medieval French), and she says that her lais are versions of oral tales told by Breton minstrels (from Brittany, on the coast of France). Her lais are some of the earliest forms of courtly love literature that survive, influencing later knightly romances (such as Sir Launfal), stories of King Arthur\u2019s knights (such as Wolfram von Eschenbach\u2019s Parzival), and certain stories in Chaucer\u2019s Canterbury Tales (in particular, the Franklin\u2019s Tale, which is itself based on a Breton lai). Written by Laura J. Getty The Lais of Marie de France License: Public Domain Marie de France, translated by Eugene Mason THE LAY OF GUIGEMAR Hearken, oh gentles, to the words of Marie. When the minstrel tells his tale, let the folk about the fire heed him willingly. For his part the singer must be wary not to spoil good music with unseemly words. Listen, oh lordlings, to the words of Marie, for she pains herself grievously not to forget this thing. The craft is hard\u2014then approve the more sweetly him who carols the tune. But this is the way of the world, that when a man or woman sings more tun- ably90 than his fellows, those about the fire fall upon him, pell-mell, for reason of their envy. They rehearse diligently the faults of his song, and steal away his praise with evil words. I will brand these folk as they deserve. They, and such as they, are like mad dogs\u2014cowardly and felon\u2014who traitorously bring to death men better than themselves. Now let the japer, and the smiler with his knife, do me what harm they may. Verily they are in their right to speak ill of me. Hearken, oh gentles, to the tale I set before you, for thereof the Bretons already have made a Lay. I will not do it harm by many words, and here is the commencement of the matter. According to text and scripture, now I relate a certain adventure, which bechanced in the realm of Brittany, in days long gone before. In that time when Arthur maintained his realm, the now in peace, the now in war, the King counted amongst his vassals a certain baron, named Oridial. This knight was lord of Leon, and was very near to his prince\u2019s heart, both in council chamber and in field. From his wife he had gotten two children, the one a son and the other a fair daughter. Nogent, he had called the damsel at the font, and the dansellon91 was named Guigemar\u2014no goodlier might be found in any realm. His mother had set all her love upon the lad, and his father shewed him every good that he was able. When the varlet was no more a child, Oridial sent him to the King, to be trained as a page in the courtesies of the Court. Right serviceable was he in his station, and meetly praised of all. The term of his service having come, and he being found of fitting years and knowledge, the King made him knight with his own hand, and armed him in rich harness, according to his wish. So Guigemar gave gifts to all those about his person, and bidding farewell, took leave, and departed from the Court. Guigemar went his way to Flanders, being desirous of advance- ment, for in that kingdom ever they have strife and war. Neither in Loraine nor Burgundy, Anjou nor Gascony, might be found in that day a better knight than he, no, nor one his peer. He had but one fault, since of love he took no care. There was neither dame nor maiden beneath the sky, however dainty and kind, to whom he gave thought or heed, though had he required her love of any damsel, very willingly would she have granted his desire. Many there were who prayed him for his love, but might have no kiss in return. So seeing that he refrained his heart in this fashion, men deemed him a strange man, and one fallen into a perilous case. In the flower of his deeds the good knight returned to his own land, that he might see again his father and lord, his mother and his sister, even as he very tenderly desired. He lodged with them for the space of a long month, and at the end of that time had envy to hunt within the wood. The night being come, Guigemar summoned his prick- 90\t On key, in tune. 91\t A-N, dancel; boy 132","The Lais of Marie de France Image 5.21: Marie de France | Marie de France sits and writes her manuscript on a pedestal. Author: Master of Jean de Papeleu Source: Wikimedia Commons License: Public Domain ers92 and his squires,93 and early in the morning rode within the forest. Great pleasure had Guigemar in the wood- land, and much he delighted in the chase. A tall stag was presently started, and the hounds being uncoupled, all hastened in pursuit\u2014the huntsmen before, and the good knight following after, winding upon his horn. Guigemar rode at a great pace after the quarry, a varlet riding beside, bearing his bow, his arrows and his spear. He followed so hotly that he over-passed the chase. Gazing about him he marked, within a thicket, a doe hiding with her fawn. Very white and wonderful was this beast, for she was without spot, and bore antlers upon her head. The hounds bayed about her, but might not pull her down. Guigemar bent his bow, and loosed a shaft at the quarry. He wound- ed the deer a little above the hoof, so that presently she fell upon her side. But the arrow glanced away, and return- ing upon itself, struck Guigemar in the thigh, so grievously, that straightway he fell from his horse upon the ground. Guigemar lay upon the grass, beside the deer which he had wounded to his hurt. He heard her sighs and groans, and perceived the bitterness of her pity. Then with mortal speech the doe spake to the wounded man in such fash- ion as this, \u201cAlas, my sorrow, for now am I slain. But thou, Vassal, who hast done me this great wrong, do not think to hide from the vengeance of thy destiny. Never may surgeon and his medicine heal your hurt. Neither herb nor root nor potion can ever cure the wound within your flesh: For that there is no healing. The only balm to close that sore must be brought by a woman, who for her love will suffer such pain and sorrow as no woman in the world has 92\t Whippers, the boys who keep the hunting dogs on the trail. 93\t A-N, La nuit somunt ses chevaliers, Ses vene\u00fcrs e ses berniers; (At night, he summoned his horsemen, his huntsmen, and his whippers) 133","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 endured before. And to the dolorous lady, dolorous knight. For your part you shall do and suffer so great things for her, that not a lover beneath the sun, or lovers who are dead, or lovers who yet shall have their day, but shall marvel at the tale. Now, go from hence, and let me die in peace.\u201d Guigemar was wounded twice over\u2014by the arrow, and by the words he was dismayed to hear. He considered within himself to what land he must go to find this healing for his hurt, for he was yet too young to die. He saw clearly, and told it to his heart, that there was no lady in his life to whom he could run for pity, and be made whole of his wound. He called his varlet before him, \u201cFriend,\u201d said he, \u201cgo forthwith, and bring my comrades to this place, for I have to speak with them.\u201d The varlet went upon his errand, leaving his master sick with the heat and fever of his hurt. When he was gone, Guigemar tore the hem from his shirt, and bound it straitly94 about his wound. He climbed painfully upon the saddle, and departed without more ado, for he was desirous to be gone before any could come to stay him from his purpose. A green path led through the deep forest to the plain, and his way across the plain brought him to a cliff, exceeding high, and to the sea. Guigemar looked upon the water, which was very still, for this fair harbourage was land-locked from the main. Upon this harbour lay one only vessel, bearing a rich pavilion of silk, daintily furnished both without and within, and well it seemed to Guigemar that he had seen this ship before. Beneath the sky was no ship so rich or precious, for there was not a sail but was spun of silk, and not a plank, from keel to mast, but showed of ebony. Too fair was the nave for mortal man, and Guigemar held it in sore displeasure. He marvelled greatly from what country it had come, and wondered long concerning this harbour, and the ship that lay therein. Guigemar got him down from his horse upon the shore, and with mighty pain and labour climbed within the ship. He trusted to find merchantmen and sailors therein, but there was none to guard, and none he saw. Now within the pavilion was a very rich bed, carved by cunning workmen in the days of King Solomon. This fair bed was wrought of cypress wood and white ivory, adorned with gold and gems most precious. Right sweet were the linen cloths upon the bed, and so soft the pillow, that he who lay thereon would sleep, were he sadder than any other in the world. The coun- terpane was of purple from the vats of Alexandria, and overall was set a right fair coverlet of cloth of gold. The pa- vilion was litten95 by two great waxen torches, placed in candlesticks of fine gold, decked with jewels worth a lord\u2019s ransom. So the wounded knight looked on ship and pavilion, bed and candle, and marvelled greatly. Guigemar sat him down upon the bed for a little, because of the anguish of his wound. After he had rested a space he got upon his feet, that he might quit the vessel, but he found that for him there was no return. A gentle wind had filled the sails, and already he was in the open sea. When Guigemar saw that he was far from land, he was very heavy and sorrow- ful. He knew not what to do, by reason of the mightiness of his hurt. But he must endure the adventure as best he was able; so he prayed to God to take him in His keeping, and in His good pleasure to bring him safe to port, and deliver him from the peril of death. Then climbing upon the couch, he laid his head upon the pillow, and slept as one dead, until, with vespers, the ship drew to that haven where he might find the healing for his hurt. Guigemar had come to an ancient city, where the King of that realm held his court and state. This King was full of years, and was wedded to a dame of high degree. The lady was of tender age, passing fresh and fair, and sweet of speech to all. Therefore was the King jealous of his wife beyond all measure. Such is the wont of age, for much it fears that old and young cannot mate together, and that youth will turn to youth. This is the death in life of the old. The castle of this ancient lord had a mighty keep. Beneath this tower was a right fair orchard, together with a close, shut in by a wall of green marble, very strong and high. This wall had one only gate, and the door was watched of warders, both night and day. On the other side of this garden was the sea, so that none might do his errand in the castle therefrom, save in a boat. To hold his dame in the greater surety, the King had built a bower within the wall; there was no fairer chamber beneath the sun. The first room was the Queen\u2019s chapel. Beyond this was the lady\u2019s bedchamber, painted all over with shapes and colours most wonderful to behold. On one wall might be seen Dame Venus, the goddess of Love, sweetly flushed as when she walked the water, lovely as life, teaching men how they should bear them in loyal service to their lady. On another wall, the goddess threw Ovid\u2019s book within a fire of coals. A scroll issuing from her lips proclaimed that those who read therein, and strove to ease them of their pains, would find from her neither service nor favour. In this chamber the lady was put in ward, and with her a certain maiden to hold her company. This damsel was her niece, since she was her sister\u2019s child, and there was great love betwixt the twain. When the Queen walked within the garden, or went abroad, this maiden was ever by her side, and came again with her to the house. Save this damsel, neither man nor woman entered in the bower, nor issued forth from out the wall. One only man possessed the key of the postern, an aged priest, very white and frail. This priest recited the service of God within the chapel, and served the Queen\u2019s plate and cup when she ate meat at table. Now, on a day, the Queen had fallen asleep after meat, and on her awaking would walk a little in the garden. She called her companion to her, and the two went forth to be glad amongst the flowers. As they looked across the 94\t immediately 95\t lit 134","The Lais of Marie de France sea they marked a ship drawing near the land, rising and falling upon the waves. Very fearful was the Queen there- at, for the vessel came to anchorage, though there was no helmsman to direct her course. The dame\u2019s face became sanguine for dread, and she turned her about to flee, because of her exceeding fear. Her maiden, who was of more courage than she, stayed her mistress with many comforting words. For her part she was very desirous to know what this thing meant. She hastened to the shore, and laying aside her mantle, climbed within this wondrous vessel. Thereon she found no living soul, save only the knight sleeping fast within the pavilion. The damsel looked long upon the knight, for pale he was as wax, and well she deemed him dead. She returned forthwith to the Queen, and told her of this marvel, and of the good knight who was slain. \u201cLet us go together on the ship,\u201d replied the lady. \u201cIf he be dead we may give him fitting burial, and the priest shall pray meetly for his soul. Should he be yet alive perchance he will speak, and tell us of his case.\u201d Without more tarrying the two damsels mounted on the ship, the lady before, and her maiden following after. When the Queen entered in the pavilion she stayed her feet before the bed, for joy and grief of what she saw. She might not refrain her eyes from gazing on the knight, for her heart was ravished with his beauty, and she sorrowed beyond measure, because of his grievous hurt. To herself she said, \u201cIn a bad hour cometh the goodly youth.\u201d She drew near the bed, and placing her hand upon his breast, found that the flesh was warm, and that the heart beat strongly in his side. Guigemar awoke at the touch, and saluted the dame as sweetly as he was able, for well he knew that he had come to a Christian land. The lady, full of thought, returned him his salutation right courteously, though the tears were yet in her eyes. Straightway she asked of him from what realm he came, and of what people, and in what war he had taken his hurt. \u201cLady,\u201d answered Guigemar, \u201cin no battle I received this wound. If it pleases you to hear my tale I will tell you the truth, and in nothing will I lie. I am a knight of Little Brittany. Yesterday I chased a wonderful white deer within the forest. The shaft with which I struck her to my hurt, returned again on me, and caused this wound upon my thigh, which may never be cured, nor made whole. For this wondrous Beast raised her plaint in a mortal tongue. She cursed me loudly, with many evil words, swearing that never might this sore be healed, save by one only damsel in the world, and her I know not where to find. When I heard my luckless fate I left the wood with what speed I might, and coming to a harbour, not far from thence, I lighted on this ship. For my sins I climbed therein. Then without oars or helm this boat ravished me from shore; so that I know not where I have come, nor what is the name of this city. Fair lady, for God\u2019s love, counsel me of your good grace, for I know not where to turn, nor how to gov- ern the ship.\u201d The lady made answer, \u201cFair sir, willingly shall I give you such good counsel as I may. This realm and city are the appanage96 of my husband. He is a right rich lord, of high lineage, but old and very full of years. Also he is jeal- ous beyond all measure; therefore it is that I see you now. By reason of his jealousy he has shut me fast between high walls, entered by one narrow door, with an ancient priest to keep the key. May God requite him for his deed. Night and day I am guarded in this prison, from whence I may never go forth, without the knowledge of my lord. Here are my chamber and my chapel, and here I live, with this, my maiden, to bear me company. If it pleases you to dwell here for a little, till you may pass upon your way, right gladly we shall receive you, and with a good heart we will tend your wound, till you are healed.\u201d When Guigemar heard this speech he rejoiced greatly. He thanked the lady with many sweet words, and con- sented to sojourn in her hall awhile. He raised himself upon his couch, and by the courtesy of the damsels left the ship. Leaning heavily upon the lady, at the end he won to her maiden\u2019s chamber, where there was a fair bed covered with a rich dossal of broidered silk, edged with fur. When he was entered in this bed, the damsels came bearing clear water in basins of gold, for the cleansing of his hurt. They stanched the blood with a towel of fine linen, and bound the wound strictly, to his exceeding comfort. So after the vesper meal was eaten, the lady departed to her own chamber, leaving the knight in much ease and content. Now Guigemar set his love so fondly upon the lady that he forgot his father\u2019s house. He thought no more of the anguish of his hurt, because of another wound that was beneath his breast. He tossed and sighed in his unrest, and prayed the maiden of his service to depart, so that he might sleep a little. When the maid was gone, Guigemar considered within himself whether he might seek the dame, to know whether her heart was warmed by any ember of the flame that burned in his. He turned it this way and that, and knew not what to do. This only was clear, that if the lady refused to cure his wound, death, for him, was sure and speedy. \u201cAlas,\u201d said he, \u201cwhat shall I do! Shall I go to my lady, and pray her pity on the wretch who has none to give him counsel? If she refuse my prayer, because of her hardness and pride, I shall know there is nought for me but to die in my sorrow, or, at least, to go heavily all the days of my life.\u201d Then he sighed, and in his sighing lighted on a better purpose; for he said within himself that doubtless he was born to suffer, and that the best of him was tears. All the long night he spent in vigil and groanings and watchful- 96\t A gift of land, an official position, or money given to the younger children of kings and princes to provide for their maintenance. (OED) 135","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 ness. To himself he told over her words and her semblance. He remembered the eyes and the fair mouth of his lady, and all the grace and the sweetness, which had struck like a knife at his heart. Between his teeth he cried on her for pity, and for a little more would have called her to his side. Ah, had he but known the fever of the lady, and how terrible a lord to her was Love, how great had been his joy and solace. His visage would have been the more san- guine, which was now so pale of colour, because of the dolour that was his. But if the knight was sick by reason of his love, the dame had small cause to boast herself of health. The lady rose early from her bed, since she might not sleep. She complained of her unrest, and of Love who rode her so hardly. The maiden, who was of her company, saw clearly enough that all her lady\u2019s thoughts were set upon the knight, who, for his healing, sojourned in the chamber. She did not know whether his thoughts were given again to the dame. When, therefore, the lady had entered in the chapel, the damsel went straightway to the knight. He welcomed her gladly, and bade her be seated near the bed. Then he inquired, \u201cFriend, where now is my lady, and why did she rise so early from her bed?\u201d Having spoken so far, he became silent, and sighed. \u201cSir,\u201d replied the maiden softly, \u201cyou love, and are discreet, but be not too discreet therein. In such a love as yours there is nothing to be ashamed. He who may win my lady\u2019s favour has every reason to be proud of his for- tune. Altogether seemly would be your friendship, for you are young, and she is fair.\u201d The knight made answer to the maiden, \u201cI am so fast in the snare, that I pray the fowler to slay me, if she may not free me from the net. Counsel me, fair sweet friend, if I may hope of kindness at her hand.\u201d Then the maiden of her sweetness comforted the knight, and assured him of all the good that she was able. So courteous and refined was the maid. When the lady had heard Mass, she hastened back to the chamber. She had not forgotten her friend, and greatly she desired to know whether he was awake or asleep, of whom her heart was fain. She bade her maiden to summon him to her chamber, for she had a certain thing in her heart to show him at leisure, were it for the joy or the sorrow of their days. Guigemar saluted the lady, and the dame returned the knight his courtesy, but their hearts were too fearful for speech. The knight dared ask nothing of his lady, for reason that he was a stranger in a strange land, and was adread to show her his love. But\u2014as says the proverb\u2014he who will not tell of his sore, may not hope for balm to his hurt. Love is a privy wound within the heart, and none knoweth of that bitterness but the heart alone. Love is an evil which may last for a whole life long, because of man and his constant heart. Many there be who make of Love a gibe and a jest, and with specious words defame him by boastful tales. But theirs is not love. Rather it is folly and light- ness, and the tune of a merry song. But let him who has found a constant lover prize her above rubies, and serve her with loyal service, being altogether at her will. Guigemar loved in this fashion, and therefore Love came swiftly to his aid. Love put words in his mouth, and courage in his heart, so that his hope might be made plain. \u201cLady,\u201d said he, \u201cI die for your love. I am in fever because of my wound, and if you care not to heal my hurt I would rather die. Fair friend, I pray you for grace. Do not gainsay me with evil words.\u201d The lady hearkened with a smile to Guigemar\u2019s speech. Right daintily and sweetly she replied, \u201cFriend, yea is not a word of two letters. I do not grant such a prayer every day of the week, and must you have your gift so quick- ly?\u201d \u201cLady,\u201d cried he, \u201cfor God\u2019s sake pity me, and take it not amiss. She, who loves lightly, may make her lover pray for long, so that she may hide how often her feet have trodden the pathway with another friend. But the honest dame, when she has once given her heart to a friend, will not deny his wish because of pride. The rather she will find her pride in humbleness, and love him again with the same love he has set on her. So they will be glad together, and since none will have knowledge or hearing of the matter, they will rejoice in their youth. Fair, sweet lady, be this thy pleasure?\u201d When the lady heard these words well she found them honest and true. Therefore without further prayings and ado she granted Guigemar her love and her kiss. Henceforward Guigemar lived greatly at his ease, for he had sight and speech of his friend, and many a time she granted him her embrace and tenderness, as is the wont of lovers when alone. For a year and a half Guigemar dwelt with his lady, in solace and great delight. Then Fortune turned her wheel, and in a trice cast those down, whose seat had been so high. Thus it chanced to them, for they were spied upon and seen. On a morning in summer time the Queen and her beau sat fondly together. The knight embraced her, eyes and face, but the lady stayed him, saying, \u201cFair sweet friend, my heart tells me that I shall lose you soon, for this hidden thing will quickly be made clear. If you are slain, may the same sword kill me. But if you win forth, well I know that you will find another love, and that I shall be left alone with my thoughts. Were I parted from you, may God give me neither joy, nor rest, nor peace, if I would seek another friend. Of that you need have no fear. Friend, for surety and comfort of my heart deliver me now some sark97 of thine. Therein I will set a knot, and make this covenant with you, that never will you put your love on dame or maiden, save only on her who shall first unfasten this knot. 97\t Shirt or chemise 136","The Lais of Marie de France Then you will ever keep faith with me, for so cunning shall be my craft, that no woman may hope to unravel that coil, either by force or guile, or even with her knife.\u201d So the knight rendered the sark to his lady, and made such bargain as she wished, for the peace and assurance of her mind. For his part the knight took a fair girdle,98 and girt it closely about the lady\u2019s middle. Right secret was the clasp and buckle of this girdle. Therefore he required of the dame that she would never grant her love, save to him only, who might free her from the strictness of this bond, without injury to band or clasp. Then they kissed together, and entered into such covenant as you have heard. That very day their hidden love was made plain to men. A certain chamberlain was sent by that ancient lord with a message to the Queen. This unlucky wretch, finding that in no wise could he enter within the chamber, looked through the window, and saw. Forthwith he hastened to the King, and told him that which he had seen. When the ag\u00e8d lord understood these words, never was there a sadder man than he. He called together the most trusty sergeants of his guard, and coming with them to the Queen\u2019s chamber, bade them to thrust in the door. When Guigemar was found therein, the King commanded that he should be slain with the sword, by reason of the anguish that was his. Guigemar was in no whit dismayed by the threat. He started to his feet, and gazing round, marked a stout rod of fir, on which it is the use for linen to be hung. This he took in hand, and faced his foes, bidding them have a care, for he would do a mischief to them all. The King looked earnestly upon the fearless knight, inquiring of him who he was, and where he was born, and in what manner he came to dwell within his house. So Guigemar told over to him this story of his fate. He showed him of the Beast that he had wounded to his hurt; of the ship, and of his bitter wound; of how he came within the realm, and of the lady\u2019s surgery. He told all to the ancient lord, to the last moment when he stood within his power. The King replied that he gave no credence to his word, nor believed that the story ran as he had said. If, however, the vessel might be found, he would commit the knight again to the waves. He would go the more heavily for the knight\u2019s saving, and a glad day would it be if he made shipwreck at sea. When they had entered into this covenant together, they went forth to the harbour, and there discovered the barge, even as Guigemar had said. So they set him thereon, and prayed him to return unto his own realm. Without sail or oar the ship parted from that coast, with no further tarrying. The knight wept and wrung his hands, complaining of his lady\u2019s loss, and of her cherish- ing. He prayed the mighty God to grant him speedy death, and never to bring him home, save to meet again with her who was more desirable than life. Whilst he was yet at his orisons, the ship drew again to that port, from whence she had first come. Guigemar made haste to get him from the vessel, so that he might the more swiftly return to his own land. He had gone but a little way when he was aware of a squire of his household, riding in the company of a certain knight. This squire held the bridle of a destrier99 in his hand, though no man rode thereon. Guigemar called to him by name, so that the varlet looking upon him, knew again his lord. He got him to his feet, and bringing the destrier to his master, set the knight thereon. Great was the joy, and merry was the feast, when Guigemar returned to his own realm. But though his friends did all that they were able, neither song nor game could cheer the knight, nor turn him from dwelling in his unhappy thoughts. For peace of mind they urged that he took to himself a wife, but Guigemar would have none of their counsel. Never would Image 5.22: The Lai of Sir Launfal | A beautiful, well- he wed a wife, on any day, either for love or for wealth, dressed maiden rides a white horse through a crowd. save only that she might first unloose the knot within his Author: Reginald L. Knowles shirt. When this news was noised about the country, there Source: Hathi Trust Digital Library was neither dame nor damsel in the realm of Brittany, but License: Public Domain 98\t belt 99\t War horse 137","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 essayed to unfasten the knot. But there was no lady who could gain to her wish, whether by force or guile. Now will I show of that lady, whom Guigemar so fondly loved. By the counsel of a certain baron the ancient King set his wife in prison. She was shut fast in a tower of grey marble, where her days were bad, and her nights worse. No man could make clear to you the great pain, the anguish and the dolour, that she suffered in this tower, wherein, I protest, she died daily. Two years and more she lay bound in prison, where warders came, but never joy or delight. Often she thought upon her friend. \u201cGuigemar, dear lord, in an evil hour I saw you with my eyes. Better for me that I die quickly, than endure longer my evil lot. Fair friend, if I could but win to that coast whence you sailed, very swiftly would I fling myself in the sea, and end my wretched life.\u201d When she had said these words she rose to her feet, and coming to the door was amazed to find therein neither bolt nor key. She issued forth, without challenge from sergeant or warder, and hastening to the harbour, found there her lover\u2019s ship, made fast to that very rock, from which she would cast her down. When she saw the barge she climbed thereon, but presently bethought her that on this ship her friend had gone to perish in the sea. At this thought she would have fled again to the shore, but her bones were as water, and she fell upon the deck. So in sore travail and sorrow, the vessel carried her across the waves, to a port of Brittany, guarded by a castle, strong and very fair. Now the lord of this castle was named Meriadus. He was a right warlike prince, and had made him ready to fight with the prince of a country nearby. He had risen very early in the morn- ing, to send forth a great company of spears, the more easily to ravage this neighbour\u2019s realm. Meriadus looked forth from his window, and marked the ship which came to port. He hastened down the steps of the perron,100 and calling to his chamberlain, came with what speed he might to the ship. Then mounting the ladder he stood upon the deck. When Meriadus found within the ship a dame, who for beauty seemed rather a fay101 than a mere earthly woman, he seized her by her mantle, and brought her swiftly to his keep. Right joyous was he because of his good fortune, for lovely was the lady beyond mortal measure. He made no question as to who had set her on the barge. He knew only that she was fair, and of high lineage, and that his heart turned towards her with so hot a love as nev- er before had he put on dame or damsel. Now there dwelt within the castle a sister of this lord, who was yet unwed. Meriadus bestowed the lady in his sister\u2019s chamber, because it was the fairest in the tower. Moreover he commanded that she should be meetly served, and held in all reverence. But though the dame was so richly clothed and cher- ished, ever was she sad and deep in thought. Meriadus came often to cheer her with mirth and speech, by reason that he wished to gain her love as a free gift, and not by force. It was in vain that he prayed her for grace, since she had no balm for his wound. For answer she showed him the girdle about her body, saying that never would she give her love to man, save only to him who might unloose the buckle of that girdle, without harm to belt or clasp. When Meriadus heard these words, he spoke in haste and said, \u201cLady, there dwells in this country a very worthy knight, who will take no woman as wife, except she first untie a certain crafty knot in the hem of a shirt, and that without force or knife. For a little I would wager that it was you who tied this knot.\u201d When the lady heard thereof her breath went from her, and near she came to falling on the ground. Meriadus caught her in his arms, and cut the laces of her bodice, that she might have the more air. He strove to unfasten her girdle, but might not dissever the clasp. Yea, though every knight in the realm essayed to unfasten that cincture, it would not yield, except to one alone. Now Meriadus made the lists ready for a great jousting, and called to that tournament all the knights who would aid him in his war. Many a lord came at his bidding, and with them Guigemar, amongst the first. Meriadus had sent letters to the knight, beseeching him, as friend and companion, not to fail him in this business. So Guige- mar hastened to the need of his lord, and at his back more than one hundred spears. All these Meriadus welcomed very gladly, and gave them lodging within his tower. In honour of his guest, the prince sent two gentlemen to his sister, praying her to attire herself richly, and come to hall, together with the dame whom he loved so dearly well. These did as they were bidden, and arrayed in their sweetest vesture, presently entered in the hall, holding each oth- er by the hand. Very pale and pensive was the lady, but when she heard her lover\u2019s name her feet failed beneath her, and had not the maiden held her fast, she would have fallen on the floor. Guigemar rose from his seat at the sight of the dame, her fashion and her semblance, and stood staring upon her. He went a little apart, and said within him- self, \u201cCan this be my sweet friend, my hope, my heart, my life, the fair lady who gave me the grace of her love? From whence comes she; who might have brought her to this far land? But I speak in my folly, for well I know that this is not my dear. A little red, a little white, and all women are thus shapen. My thoughts are troubled, by reason that the sweetness of this lady resembles the sweetness of that other, for whom my heart sighs and trembles. Yet needs must that I have speech of the lady.\u201d Guigemar drew near to the dame. He kissed her courteously, and found no word to utter, save to pray that he might be seated at her side. Meriadus spied upon them closely, and was the more heavy because of their trouble. Therefore he feigned mirth. 100\t an exterior set of steps and a platform at the main entrance to a large building such as a church or mansion.(OED) 101\t fairy 138","The Lais of Marie de France \u201cGuigemar, dear lord, if it pleases you, let this damsel essay to untie the knot of your sark, if so be she may loos- en the coil.\u201d Guigemar made answer that very willingly he would do this thing. He called to him a squire who had the shirt in keeping, and bade him seek his charge, and deliver it to the dame. The lady took the sark in hand. Well she knew the knot that she had tied so cunningly, and was so willing to unloose; but for reason of the trouble at her heart, she did not dare essay. Meriadus marked the distress of the damsel, and was more sorrowful than ever was lover before. \u201cLady,\u201d said he, \u201cdo all that you are able to unfasten this coil.\u201d So at his commandment she took again to her the hem of the shirt, and lightly and easily unravelled the tie. Guigemar marvelled greatly when he saw this thing. His heart told him that of a truth this was his lady, but he could not give faith to his eyes. \u201cFriend, are you indeed the sweet comrade I have known? Tell me truly now, is there about your body the girdle with which I girt you in your own realm?\u201d He set his hands to her waist, and found that the secret belt was yet about her sides. \u201cFair sweet friend, tell me now by what adventure I find you here, and who has brought you to this tower?\u201d So the lady told over to her friend the pain and the anguish and the dolour of the prison in which she was held; of how it chanced that she fled from her dungeon, and lighting upon a ship, entered therein, and came to this fair haven; of how Meriadus took her from the barge, but kept her in all honour, save only that ever he sought for her love; \u201cbut now, fair friend, all is well, for you hold your lady in your arms.\u201d Guigemar stood upon his feet, and beckoned with his hand. \u201cLords,\u201d he cried, \u201chearken now to me. I have found my friend, whom I have lost for a great while. Before you all I pray and require of Meriadus to yield me my own. For this grace I give him open thanks. Moreover I will kneel down, and become his liege man. For two years, or three, if he will, I will bargain to serve in his quarrels, and with me, of riders, a hundred or more at my back.\u201d Then answered Meriadus, \u201cGuigemar, fair friend, I am not yet so shaken or overborne in war, that I must do as you wish, right humbly. This woman is my captive. I found her: I hold her: and I will defend my right against you and all your power.\u201d When Guigemar heard these proud words he got to horse speedily, him and all his company. He threw down his glove, and parted in anger from the tower. But he went right heavily, since he must leave behind his friend. In his train rode all those knights who had drawn together to that town for the great tournament. Not a knight of them all but plighted faith to follow where he led, and to hold himself recreant and shamed if he failed his oath. That same night the band came to the castle of the prince with whom Meriadus was at war. He welcomed them very gladly, and gave them lodging in his tower. By their aid he had good hope to bring this quarrel to an end. Very early in the morning the host came together to set the battle in array. With clash of mail and noise of horns they issued from the city gate, Guigemar riding at their head. They drew before the castle where Meriadus lay in strength, and sought to take it by storm. But the keep was very strong, and Meriadus bore himself as a stout and valiant knight. So Guigemar, like a wary captain, sat himself down before the town, till all the folk of that place were deemed by friend and sergeant to be weak with hunger. Then they took that high keep with the sword, and burnt it with fire. The lord thereof they slew in his own hall; but Guigemar came forth, after such labours as you have heard, bearing his lady with him, to return in peace to his own land. From this adventure that I have told you, has come the Lay that minstrels chant to harp and viol\u2014fair is that song and sweet the tune. THE LAY OF SIR LAUNFAL I will tell you the story of another Lay. It relates the adventures of a rich and mighty baron, and the Breton calls it, the Lay of Sir Launfal. King Arthur\u2014that fearless knight and courteous lord\u2014removed to Wales, and lodged at Caerleon-on-Usk, since the Picts and Scots did much mischief in the land. For it was the wont of the wild people of the north to enter in the realm of Logres, and burn and damage at their will. At the time of Pentecost, the King cried a great feast. Thereat he gave many rich gifts to his counts and barons, and to the Knights of the Round Table. Never were such worship and bounty shown before at any feast, for Arthur bestowed honours and lands on all his servants\u2014save only on one. This lord, who was forgotten and misliked of the King, was named Launfal. He was beloved by many of the Court, because of his beauty and prowess, for he was a worthy knight, open of heart and heavy of hand. These lords, to whom their comrade was dear, felt little joy to see so stout a knight misprized. Sir Launfal was son to a King of high descent, though his heritage was in a distant land. He was of the King\u2019s household, but since Arthur gave him naught, and he was of too proud a mind to pray for his due, he had spent all that he had. Right heavy was Sir Launfal, when he considered these things, for he knew himself taken in the toils. Gentles, marvel not overmuch 139","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 hereat. Ever must the pilgrim go heavily in a strange land, where there is none to counsel and direct him in the path. Now, on a day, Sir Launfal got him on his horse, that he might take his pleasure for a little. He came forth from the city, alone, attended by neither servant nor squire. He went his way through a green mead, till he stood by a river of clear running water. Sir Launfal would have crossed this stream, without thought of pass or ford, but he might not do so, for reason that his horse was all fearful and trembling. Seeing that he was hindered in this fashion, Launfal unbitted his steed, and let him pasture in that fair meadow, where they had come. Then he folded his cloak to serve him as a pillow, and lay upon the ground. Launfal lay in great misease, because of his heavy thoughts, and the discomfort of his bed. He turned from side to side, and might not sleep. Now as the knight looked towards the river he saw two dam- sels coming towards him; fairer maidens Launfal had never seen. These two maidens were richly dressed in kirtles closely laced and shapen to their persons and wore mantles of a goodly purple hue. Sweet and dainty were the damsels, alike in raiment and in face. The elder of these ladies carried in her hands a basin of pure gold, cunningly wrought by some crafty smith\u2014very fair and precious was the cup; and the younger bore a towel of soft white linen. These maidens turned neither to the right hand nor to the left, but went directly to the place where Launfal lay. When Launfal saw that their business was with him, he stood upon his feet, like a discreet and courteous gentle- man. After they had greeted the knight, one of the maidens delivered the message with which she was charged. \u201cSir Launfal, my demoiselle, as gracious as she is fair, prays that you will follow us, her messengers, as she has a certain word to speak with you. We will lead you swiftly to her pavilion, for our lady is very near at hand. If you but lift your eyes you may see where her tent is spread.\u201d Right glad was the knight to do the bidding of the maidens. He gave no heed to his horse, but left him at his provand in the meadow. All his desire was to go with the damsels, to that pavilion of silk and divers colours, pitched in so fair a place. Certainly neither Semiramis in the days of her most wanton power, nor Octavian, the Emperor of all the West, had so gracious a covering from sun and rain. Above the tent was set an eagle of gold, so rich and precious, that none might count the cost. The cords and fringes thereof were of silken thread, and the lances which bore aloft the pavilion were of refined gold. No King on earth might have so sweet a shelter, not though he gave in fee the value of his realm. Within this pavilion Launfal came upon the Maiden. Whiter she was than any altar lily, and more sweetly flushed than the new born rose in time of summer heat. She lay upon a bed with napery and coverlet of richer worth than could be furnished by a castle\u2019s spoil. Very fresh and slender showed the lady in her vesture of spotless linen. About her person she had drawn a mantle of ermine, edged with purple dye from the vats of Alexandria. By reason of the heat her raiment was unfastened for a little, and her throat and the rondure of her bosom showed whiter and more untouched than hawthorn in May. The knight came before the bed, and stood gazing on so sweet a sight. The Maiden beckoned him to draw near, and when he had seated himself at the foot of her couch, spoke her mind. \u201cLaunfal,\u201d she said, \u201cfair friend, it is for you that I have come from my own far land. I bring you my love. If you are prudent and discreet, as you are goodly to the view, there is no emperor nor count, nor king, whose day shall be so filled with riches and with mirth as yours.\u201d When Launfal heard these words he rejoiced greatly, for his heart was litten by another\u2019s torch. \u201cFair lady,\u201d he answered, \u201csince it pleases you to be so gracious, and to dower so graceless a knight with your love, there is naught that you may bid me do\u2014right or wrong, evil or good\u2014that I will not do to the utmost of my power. I will observe your commandment, and serve in your quarrels. For you I renounce my father and my father\u2019s house. This only I pray, that I may dwell with you in your lodging, and that you will never send me from your side.\u201d When the Maiden heard the words of him whom so fondly she desired to love, she was altogether moved, and granted him forthwith her heart and her tenderness. To her bounty she added another gift besides. Never might Launfal be desirous of aught, but he would have according to his wish. He might waste and spend at will and plea- sure, but in his purse ever there was to spare. No more was Launfal sad. Right merry was the pilgrim, since one had set him on the way, with such a gift, that the more pennies he bestowed, the more silver and gold were in his pouch. But the Maiden had yet a word to say. \u201cFriend,\u201d she said, \u201chearken to my counsel. I lay this charge upon you, and pray you urgently, that you tell not to any man the secret of our love. If you show this matter, you will lose your friend, forever and a day. Never again may you see my face. Never again will you have seisin102 of that body, which is now so tender in your eyes.\u201d Launfal plighted faith, that right strictly he would observe this commandment. So the Maiden granted him her kiss and her embrace, and very sweetly in that fair lodging passed the day till evensong was come. Right loath was Launfal to depart from the pavilion at the vesper hour, and gladly would he have stayed, had he been able, and his lady wished. \u201cFair friend,\u201d said she, \u201crise up, for no longer may you tarry. The hour is come that we must part. But one thing 102\t possession 140","The Lais of Marie de France I have to say before you go. When you would speak with me I shall hasten to come before your wish. Well I deem that you will only call your friend where she may be found without reproach or shame of men. You may see me at your pleasure; my voice shall speak softly in your ear at will; but I must never be known of your comrades, nor must they ever learn my speech.\u201d Right joyous was Launfal to hear this thing. He sealed the covenant with a kiss, and stood upon his feet. Then there entered the two maidens who had led him to the pavilion, bringing with them rich raiment, fitting for a knight\u2019s apparel. When Launfal had clothed himself therewith, there seemed no goodlier varlet under heaven, for certainly he was fair and true. After these maidens had refreshed him with clear water, and dried his hands upon the napkin, Launfal went to meat. His friend sat at table with him, and small will had he to refuse her courtesy. Very serviceably the damsels bore the meats, and Launfal and the Maiden ate and drank with mirth and content. But one dish was more to the knight\u2019s relish than any other. Sweeter than the dainties within his mouth, was the lady\u2019s kiss upon his lips. When supper was ended, Launfal rose from table, for his horse stood waiting without the pavilion. The destrier was newly saddled and bridled, and showed proudly in his rich gay trappings. So Launfal kissed, and bade farewell, and went his way. He rode back towards the city at a slow pace. Often he checked his steed, and looked behind him, for he was filled with amazement, and all bemused concerning this adventure. In his heart he doubted that it was but a dream. He was altogether astonished, and knew not what to do. He feared that pavilion and Maiden alike were from the realm of faery. Launfal returned to his lodging, and was greeted by servitors, clad no longer in ragged raiment. He fared richly, lay softly, and spent largely, but never knew how his purse was filled. There was no lord who had need of a lodging in the town, but Launfal brought him to his hall, for refreshment and delight. Launfal bestowed rich gifts. Launfal redeemed the poor captive. Launfal clothed in scarlet the minstrel. Launfal gave honour where honour was due. Stranger and friend alike he comforted at need. So, whether by night or by day, Launfal lived greatly at his ease. His lady, she came at will and pleasure, and, for the rest, all was added unto him. Now it chanced, the same year, about the feast of St. John, a company of knights came, for their solace, to an or- chard, beneath that tower where dwelt the Queen. Together with these lords went Gawain and his cousin, Yvain the fair. Then said Gawain, that goodly knight, beloved and dear to all, \u201cLords, we do wrong to disport ourselves in this pleasaunce without our comrade Launfal. It is not well to slight a prince as brave as he is courteous, and of a lineage prouder than our own.\u201d Then certain of the lords returned to the city, and finding Launfal within his hostel, entreated him to take his pastime with them in that fair meadow. The Queen looked out from a window in her tower, she and three ladies of her fellowship. They saw the lords at their pleasure, and Launfal also, whom well they knew. So the Queen chose of her Court thirty damsels\u2014the sweetest of face and most dainty of fashion\u2014and commanded that they should descend with her to take their delight in the garden. When the knights beheld this gay company of ladies come down the steps of the perron, they rejoiced beyond measure. They hastened before to lead them by the hand, and said such words in their ear as were seemly and pleasant to be spoken. Amongst these merry and courteous lords hasted not Sir Launfal. He drew apart from the throng, for with him time went heavily, till he might have clasp and greeting of his friend. The ladies of the Queen\u2019s fellowship seemed but kitchen wenches to his sight, in comparison with the loveliness of the maiden. When the Queen marked Launfal go aside, she went his way, and seating herself upon the herb, called the knight before her. Then she opened out her heart. \u201cLaunfal, I have honoured you for long as a worthy knight, and have praised and cherished you very dearly. You may receive a queen\u2019s whole love, if such be your care. Be content: he to whom my heart is given, has small reason to complain him of the alms.\u201d \u201cLady,\u201d answered the knight, \u201cgrant me leave to go, for this grace is not for me. I am the King\u2019s man, and dare not break my troth. Not for the highest lady in the world, not even for her love, will I set this reproach upon my lord.\u201d When the Queen heard this, she was full of wrath, and spoke many hot and bitter words. \u201cLaunfal,\u201d she cried, \u201cwell I know that you think little of woman and her love. There are sins more black that a man may have upon his soul. Traitor you are, and false. Right evil counsel gave they to my lord, who prayed him to suffer you about his person. You remain only for his harm and loss.\u201d Launfal was very dolent to hear this thing. He was not slow to take up the Queen\u2019s glove, and in his haste spake words that he repented long, and with tears. \u201cLady,\u201d said he, \u201cI am not of that guild of which you speak. Neither am I a despiser of woman, since I love, and am loved, of one who would bear the prize from all the ladies in the land. Dame, know now and be persuaded, that she, whom I serve, is so rich in state, that the very meanest of her maidens, excels you, Lady Queen, as much in clerkly skill and goodness, as in sweetness of body and face, and in every virtue.\u201d The Queen rose straightway to her feet, and fled to her chamber, weeping. Right wrathful and heavy was she, 141","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 because of the words that had besmirched her. She lay sick upon her bed, from which, she said, she would never rise, till the King had done her justice, and righted this bitter wrong. Now the King that day had taken his pleasure within the woods. He returned from the chase towards evening, and sought the chamber of the Queen. When the lady saw him, she sprang from her bed, and kneeling at his feet, pleaded for grace and pity. Launfal\u2014she said\u2014had shamed her, since he required her love. When she had put him by, very foully had he reviled her, boasting that his love was already set on a lady, so proud and noble, that her meanest wench went more richly, and smiled more sweetly, than the Queen. Thereat the King waxed marvellously wrathful, and swore a great oath that he would set Launfal within a fire, or hang him from a tree, if he could not deny this thing, before his peers. Arthur came forth from the Queen\u2019s chamber, and called to him three of his lords. These he sent to seek the knight who so evilly had entreated the Queen. Launfal, for his part, had returned to his lodging, in a sad and sorrowful case. He saw very clearly that he had lost his friend, since he had declared their love to men. Launfal sat within his chamber, sick and heavy of thought. Often he called upon his friend, but the lady would not hear his voice. He bewailed his evil lot, with tears; for grief he came nigh to swoon; a hundred times he implored the Maiden that she would deign to speak with her knight. Then, since the lady yet refrained from speech, Launfal cursed his hot and unruly tongue. Very near he came to ending all this trouble with his knife. Naught he found to do but to wring his hands, and call upon the Maiden, begging her to forgive his trespass, and to talk with him again, as friend to friend. But little peace is there for him who is harassed by a King. There came presently to Launfal\u2019s hostel those three barons from the Court. These bade the knight forthwith to go with them to Arthur\u2019s presence, to acquit him of this wrong against the Queen. Launfal went forth, to his own deep sorrow. Had any man slain him on the road, he would have counted him his friend. He stood before the King, downcast and speechless, being dumb by reason of that great grief, of which he showed the picture and image. Arthur looked upon his captive very evilly. \u201cVassal,\u201d said he, harshly, \u201cyou have done me a bitter wrong. It was a foul deed to seek to shame me in this ugly fashion, and to smirch the honour of the Queen. Is it folly or lightness which leads you to boast of that lady, the least of whose maidens is fairer, and goes more richly, than the Queen?\u201d Launfal protested that never had he set such shame upon his lord. Word by word he told the tale of how he de- nied the Queen, within the orchard. But concerning that which he had spoken of the lady, he owned the truth, and his folly. The love of which he bragged was now lost to him, by his own exceeding fault. He cared little for his life, and was content to obey the judgment of the Court. Right wrathful was the King at Launfal\u2019s words. He conjured his barons to give him such wise counsel herein, that wrong might be done to none. The lords did the King\u2019s bidding, whether good came of the matter, or evil. They gathered themselves together, and appointed a certain day that Launfal should abide the judgment of his peers. For his part Launfal must give pledge and surety to his lord, that he would come before this judgment in his own body. If he might not give such surety then he should be held captive till the appointed day. When the lords of the King\u2019s household returned to tell him of their counsel, Arthur demanded that Launfal should put such pledge in his hand, as they had said. Launfal was altogether mazed and bewildered at this judgment, for he had neither friend nor kindred in the land. He would have been set in prison, but Gawain came first to offer himself as his surety, and with him, all the knights of his fellowship. These gave into the King\u2019s hand as pledge, the fiefs and lands that they held of his Crown. The King having taken pledges from the sureties, Launfal returned to his lodging, and with him certain knights of his company. They blamed him greatly because of his foolish love, and chastened him grievously by reason of the sorrow he made before men. Every day they came to his chamber, to know of his meat and drink, for much they feared that presently he would become mad. The lords of the household came together on the day appointed for this judgment. The King was on his chair, with the Queen sitting at his side. The sureties brought Launfal within the hall, and rendered him into the hands of his peers. Right sorrowful were they because of his plight. A great company of his fellowship did all that they were able to acquit him of this charge. When all was set out, the King demanded the judgment of the Court, according to the accusation and the answer. The barons went forth in much trouble and thought to consider this matter. Many amongst them grieved for the peril of a good knight in a strange land; others held that it were well for Launfal to suffer, because of the wish and malice of their lord. Whilst they were thus perplexed, the Duke of Cornwall rose in the council, and said, \u201cLords, the King pursues Launfal as a traitor, and would slay him with the sword, by reason that he bragged of the beauty of his maiden, and roused the jealousy of the Queen. By the faith that I owe this company, none com- plains of Launfal, save only the King. For our part we would know the truth of this business, and do justice be- tween the King and his man. We would also show proper reverence to our own liege lord. Now, if it be according to Arthur\u2019s will, let us take oath of Launfal, that he seek this lady, who has put such strife between him and the Queen. If her beauty be such as he has told us, the Queen will have no cause for wrath. She must pardon Launfal for his 142","The Lais of Marie de France rudeness, since it will be plain that he did not speak out of a malicious heart. Should Launfal fail his word, and not return with the lady, or should her fairness fall beneath his boast, then let him be cast off from our fellowship, and be sent forth from the service of the King.\u201d This counsel seemed good to the lords of the household. They sent certain of his friends to Launfal, to acquaint him with their judgment, bidding him to pray his damsel to the Court, that he might be acquitted of this blame. The knight made answer that in no wise could he do this thing. So the sureties returned before the judges, saying that Launfal hoped neither for refuge nor for succour from the lady, and Arthur urged them to a speedy ending, because of the prompting of the Queen. The judges were about to give sentence upon Launfal, when they saw two maidens come riding towards the pal- ace, upon two white ambling palfreys. Very sweet and dainty were these maidens, and richly clothed in garments of crimson sendal,103 closely girt and fashioned to their bodies. All men, old and young, looked willingly upon them, for fair they were to see. Gawain, and three knights of his company, went straight to Launfal, and showed him these maidens, praying him to say which of them was his friend. But he answered never a word. The maidens dismounted from their palfreys, and coming before the dais where the King was seated, spake him fairly, as they were fair. \u201cSire, prepare now a chamber, hung with silken cloths, where it is seemly for my lady to dwell; for she would lodge with you awhile.\u201d This gift the King granted gladly. He called to him two knights of his household, and bade them bestow the maidens in such chambers as were fitting to their degree. The maidens being gone, the King required of his barons to proceed with their judgment, saying that he had sore displeasure at the slowness of the cause. \u201cSire,\u201d replied the barons, \u201cwe rose from Council, because of the damsels who entered in the hall. We will at once resume the sitting, and give our judgment without more delay.\u201d The barons again were gathered together, in much thought and trouble, to consider this matter. There was great strife and dissension amongst them, for they knew not what to do. In the midst of all this noise and tumult, there came two other damsels riding to the hall on two Spanish mules. Very richly arrayed were these damsels in rai- ment of fine needlework, and their kirtles were covered by fresh fair mantles, embroidered with gold. Great joy had Launfal\u2019s comrades when they marked these ladies. They said between themselves that doubtless they came for the succour of the good knight. Gawain, and certain of his company, made haste to Launfal, and said, \u201cSir, be not cast down. Two ladies are near at hand, right dainty of dress, and gracious of person. Tell us truly, for the love of God, is one of these your friend?\u201d But Launfal answered very simply that never before had he seen these damsels with his eyes, nor known and loved them in his heart. The maidens dismounted from their mules, and stood before Arthur, in the sight of all. Greatly were they praised of many, because of their beauty, and of the colour of their face and hair. Some there were who deemed already that the Queen was overborne. The elder of the damsels carried herself modestly and well, and sweetly told over the message wherewith she was charged. \u201cSire, make ready for us chambers, where we may abide with our lady, for even now she comes to speak with thee.\u201d The King commanded that the ladies should be led to their companions, and bestowed in the same honour- able fashion as they. Then he bade the lords of his household to consider their judgment, since he would endure no further respite. The Court already had given too much time to the business, and the Queen was growing wrathful, because of the blame that was hers. Now the judges were about to proclaim their sentence, when, amidst the tumult of the town, there came riding to the palace the flower of all the ladies of the world. She came mounted upon a palfrey, white as snow, which carried her softly, as though she loved her burthen. Beneath the sky was no goodlier steed, nor one more gentle to the hand. The harness of the palfrey was so rich, that no king on earth might hope to buy trappings so precious, unless he sold or set his realm in pledge. The Maiden herself showed such as I will tell you. Passing slim was the lady, sweet of bodice and slender of girdle. Her throat was whiter than snow on branch, and her eyes were like flowers in the pallor of her face. She had a witching mouth, a dainty nose, and an open brow. Her eyebrows were brown, and her golden hair parted in two soft waves upon her head. She was clad in a shift of spotless linen, and above her snowy kirtle was set a mantle of royal purple, clasped upon her breast. She carried a hooded falcon upon her glove, and a greyhound followed closely after. As the Maiden rode at a slow pace through the streets of the city, there was none, neither great nor small, youth nor sergeant, but ran forth from his house, that he might content his heart with so great beauty. Every man that saw her with his eyes, marvelled at a fairness beyond that of any earthly woman. Little he cared for any mortal maiden, after he had seen this sight. The friends of Sir Launfal hastened to the knight, to tell him of his lady\u2019s succour, if so it were according to God\u2019s will. \u201cSir comrade, truly is not this your friend? This lady is neither black nor golden, mean nor tall. She is only the most lovely thing in all the world.\u201d 103\t silk 143","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 When Launfal heard this, he sighed, for by their words he knew again his friend. He raised his head, and as the blood rushed to his face, speech flowed from his lips. \u201cBy my faith,\u201d cried he, \u201cyes, she is indeed my friend. It is a small matter now whether men slay me, or set me free; for I am made whole of my hurt just by looking on her face.\u201d The Maiden entered in the palace\u2014where none so fair had come before\u2014and stood before the King, in the presence of his household. She loosed the clasp of her mantle, so that men might the more easily perceive the grace of her person. The courteous King advanced to meet her, and all the Court got them on their feet, and pained them- selves in her service. When the lords had gazed upon her for a space, and praised the sum of her beauty, the lady spake to Arthur in this fashion, for she was anxious to begone. \u201cSire, I have loved one of thy vassals,\u2014the knight who stands in bonds, Sir Launfal. He was always misprized in thy Court, and his every action turned to blame. What he said, that thou knowest; for over hasty was his tongue before the Queen. But he never craved her in love, however loud his boasting. I cannot choose that he should come to hurt or harm by me. In the hope of freeing Launfal from his bonds, I have obeyed thy summons. Let now thy barons look boldly upon my face, and deal justly in this quarrel between the Queen and me.\u201d The King commanded that this should be done, and looking upon her eyes, not one of the judges but was per- suaded that her favour exceeded that of the Queen. Since then Launfal had not spoken in malice against his lady, the lords of the household gave him again his sword. When the trial had come thus to an end the Maiden took her leave of the King, and made her ready to depart. Gladly would Arthur have had her lodge with him for a little, and many a lord would have rejoiced in her service, but she might not tarry. Now without the hall stood a great stone of dull marble, where it was the wont of lords, departing from the Court, to climb into the saddle, and Launfal by the stone. The Maiden came forth from the doors of the palace, and mounting on the stone, seated herself on the palfrey, behind her friend. Then they rode across the plain together, and were no more seen. The Bretons tell that the knight was ravished by his lady to an island, very dim and very fair, known as Avalon. But none has had speech with Launfal and his faery love since then, and for my part I can tell you no more of the matter. THE LAY OF THE WERE-WOLF Amongst the tales I tell you once again, I would not forget the Lay of the Were-Wolf. Such beasts as he are known in every land. Bisclavaret he is named in Brittany; whilst the Norman calls him Garwal. It is a certain thing, and within the knowledge of all, that many a christened man has suffered this change, and ran wild in woods, as a Were-Wolf. The Were-Wolf is a fearsome beast. He lurks within the thick forest, mad and horrible to see. All the evil that he may, he does. He goeth to and fro, about the solitary place, seeking man, in order to devour him. Hearken, now, to the adventure of the Were-Wolf, that I have to tell. In Brittany there dwelt a baron who was marvellously esteemed of all his fellows. He was a stout knight, and a comely, and a man of office and repute. Right private was he to the mind of his lord, and dear to the counsel of his neighbours. This baron was wedded to a very worthy dame, right fair to see, and sweet of semblance. All his love was set on her, and all her love was given again to him. One only grief had this lady. For three whole days in every week her lord was absent from her side. She knew not where he went, nor on what errand. Neither did any of his house know the business which called him forth. On a day when this lord was come again to his house, altogether joyous and content, the lady took him to task, right sweetly, in this fashion, \u201cHusband,\u201d said she, \u201cand fair, sweet friend, I have a certain thing to pray of you. Right willingly would I receive this gift, but I fear to anger you in the asking. It is better for me to have an empty hand, than to gain hard words.\u201d When the lord heard this matter, he took the lady in his arms, very tenderly, and kissed her. \u201cWife,\u201d he answered, \u201cask what you will. What would you have, for it is yours already?\u201d \u201cBy my faith,\u201d said the lady, \u201csoon shall I be whole. Husband, right long and wearisome are the days that you spend away from your home. I rise from my bed in the morning, sick at heart, I know not why. So fearful am I, lest you do aught to your loss, that I may not find any comfort. Very quickly shall I die for reason of my dread. Tell me now, where you go, and on what business! How may the knowledge of one who loves so closely, bring you to harm?\u201d \u201cWife,\u201d made answer the lord, \u201cnothing but evil can come if I tell you this secret. For the mercy of God do not require it of me. If you but knew, you would withdraw yourself from my love, and I should be lost indeed.\u201d When the lady heard this, she was persuaded that her baron sought to put her by with jesting words. Therefore she prayed and required him the more urgently, with tender looks and speech, till he was overborne, and told her all the story, hiding naught. \u201cWife, I become Bisclavaret. I enter in the forest, and live on prey and roots, within the thickest of the wood.\u201d After she had learned his secret, she prayed and entreated the more as to whether he ran in his raiment, or went spoiled of vesture. 144","The Lais of Marie de France \u201cWife,\u201d said he, \u201cI go naked as a beast.\u201d \u201cTell me, for hope of grace, what you do with your clothing?\u201d \u201cFair wife, that will I never. If I should lose my raiment, or even be marked as I quit my vesture, then a Were- Wolf I must go for all the days of my life. Never again should I become man, save in that hour my clothing were given back to me. For this reason never will I show my lair.\u201d Image 5.23: German Woodcut | This woodcut depicts a werewolf transforming. Author: User \u201cVearthy\u201d Source: Wikimedia Commons License: Public Domain \u201cHusband,\u201d replied the lady to him, \u201cI love you better than all the world. The less cause have you for doubting my faith, or hiding any tittle from me. What savour is here of friendship? How have I made forfeit of your love; for what sin do you mistrust my honour? Open now your heart, and tell what is good to be known.\u201d So at the end, outwearied and overborne by her importunity, he could no longer refrain, but told her all. \u201cWife,\u201d said he, \u201cwithin this wood, a little from the path, there is a hidden way, and at the end thereof an ancient chapel, where oftentimes I have bewailed my lot. Near by is a great hollow stone, concealed by a bush, and there is the secret place where I hide my raiment, till I would return to my own home.\u201d On hearing this marvel the lady became sanguine of visage, because of her exceeding fear. She dared no longer to lie at his side, and turned over in her mind, this way and that, how best she could get her from him. Now there was a certain knight of those parts, who, for a great while, had sought and required this lady for her love. This knight had spent long years in her service, but little enough had he got thereby, not even fair words, or a promise. To him the dame wrote a letter, and meeting, made her purpose plain. \u201cFair friend,\u201d said she, \u201cbe happy. That which you have coveted so long a time, I will grant without delay. Never again will I deny your suit. My heart, and all I have to give, are yours, so take me now as love and dame.\u201d Right sweetly the knight thanked her for her grace, and pledged her faith and fealty. When she had confirmed him by an oath, then she told him all this business of her lord\u2014why he went, and what he became, and of his ravening within the wood. So she showed him of the chapel, and of the hollow stone, and of how to spoil the Were- Wolf of his vesture. Thus, by the kiss of his wife, was Bisclavaret betrayed. Often enough had he ravished his prey in desolate places, but from this journey he never returned. His kinsfolk and acquaintance came together to ask of his tidings, when this absence was noised abroad. Many a man, on many a day, searched the woodland, but none might find him, nor learn where Bisclavaret was gone. The lady was wedded to the knight who had cherished her for so long a space. More than a year had passed since Bisclavaret disappeared. Then it chanced that the King would hunt in that self-same wood where the Were- Wolf lurked. When the hounds were unleashed they ran this way and that, and swiftly came upon his scent. At the view the huntsman winded on his horn, and the whole pack were at his heels. They followed him from morn to eve, till he was torn and bleeding, and was all adread lest they should pull him down. Now the King was very close to the quarry, and when Bisclavaret looked upon his master, he ran to him for pity and for grace. He took the stirrup 145","World Literature I: Beginnings to 1650 within his paws, and fawned upon the prince\u2019s foot. The King was very fearful at this sight, but presently he called his courtiers to his aid. \u201cLords,\u201d cried he, \u201chasten hither, and see this marvellous thing. Here is a beast who has the sense of man. He abases himself before his foe, and cries for mercy, although he cannot speak. Beat off the hounds, and let no man do him harm. We will hunt no more to-day, but return to our own place, with the wonderful quarry we have taken.\u201d The King turned him about, and rode to his hall, Bisclavaret following at his side. Very near to his master the Were-Wolf went, like any dog, and had no care to seek again the wood. When the King had brought him safely to his own castle, he rejoiced greatly, for the beast was fair and strong, no mightier had any man seen. Much pride had the King in his marvellous beast. He held him so dear, that he bade all those who wished for his love, to cross the Wolf in naught, neither to strike him with a rod, but ever to see that he was richly fed and kennelled warm. This commandment the Court observed willingly. So all the day the Wolf sported with the lords, and at night he lay within the chamber of the King. There was not a man who did not make much of the beast, so frank was he and debonair. None had rea- son to do him wrong, for ever was he about his master, and for his part did evil to none. Every day were these two companions together, and all perceived that the King loved him as his friend. Hearken now to that which chanced. The King held a high Court, and bade his great vassals and barons, and all the lords of his venery to the feast. Never was there a goodlier feast, nor one set forth with sweeter show and pomp. Amongst those who were bid- den, came that same knight who had the wife of Bisclavaret for dame. He came to the castle, richly gowned, with a fair company, but little he deemed whom he would find so near. Bisclavaret marked his foe the moment he stood within the hall. He ran towards him, and seized him with his fangs, in the King\u2019s very presence, and to the view of all. Doubtless he would have done him much mischief, had not the King called and chidden him, and threatened him with a rod. Once, and twice, again, the Wolf set upon the knight in the very light of day. All men marvelled at his malice, for sweet and serviceable was the beast, and to that hour had shown hatred of none. With one consent the household deemed that this deed was done with full reason, and that the Wolf had suffered at the knight\u2019s hand some bitter wrong. Right wary of his foe was the knight until the feast had ended, and all the barons had taken farewell of their lord, and departed, each to his own house. With these, amongst the very first, went that lord whom Bisclavaret so fiercely had assailed. Small was the wonder that he was glad to go. No long while after this adventure it came to pass that the courteous King would hunt in that forest where Bisclavaret was found. With the prince came his wolf, and a fair company. Now at nightfall the King abode within a certain lodge of that country, and this was known of that dame who before was the wife of Bisclavaret. In the morn- ing the lady clothed her in her most dainty apparel, and hastened to the lodge, since she desired to speak with the King, and to offer him a rich present. When the lady entered in the chamber, neither man nor leash might restrain the fury of the Wolf. He became as a mad dog in his hatred and malice. Breaking from his bonds he sprang at the lady\u2019s face, and bit the nose from her visage. From every side men ran to the succour104 of the dame. They beat off the wolf from his prey, and for a little would have cut him in pieces with their swords. But a certain wise counsellor said to the King, \u201cSire, hearken now to me. This beast is always with you, and there is not one of us all who has not known him for long. He goes in and out amongst us, nor has molested any man, neither done wrong or felony to any, save only to this dame, one only time as we have seen. He has done evil to this lady, and to that knight, who is now the hus- band of the dame. Sire, she was once the wife of that lord who was so close and private to your heart, but who went, and none might find where he had gone. Now, therefore, put the dame in a sure place, and question her straitly, so that she may tell\u2014if perchance she knows thereof\u2014for what reason this Beast holds her in such mortal hate. For many a strange deed has chanced, as well we know, in this marvellous land of Brittany.\u201d The King listened to these words, and deemed the counsel good. He laid hands upon the knight, and put the dame in surety in another place. He caused them to be questioned right straitly, so that their torment was very grievous. At the end, partly because of her distress, and partly by reason of her exceeding fear, the lady\u2019s lips were loosed, and she told her tale. She showed them of the betrayal of her lord, and how his raiment was stolen from the hollow stone. Since then she knew not where he went, nor what had befallen him, for he had never come again to his own land. Only, in her heart, well she deemed and was persuaded, that Bisclavaret was he. Straightway the King demanded the vesture of his baron, whether this were to the wish of the lady, or whether it were against her wish. When the raiment was brought him, he caused it to be spread before Bisclavaret, but the Wolf made as though he had not seen. Then that cunning and crafty counsellor took the King apart, that he might give him a fresh rede.105 \u201cSire,\u201d said he, \u201cyou do not wisely, nor well, to set this raiment before Bisclavaret, in the sight of all. In shame 104\t aid 105\t counsel 146"]