XXIII.

Count Ganelon, at this, rose full of wrath, And, casting from his neck his zibelline Of fur, stood forth, clothed in his silk _blialt._[5] Gray were his eyes and very fierce his face; Graceful his form--his breast, of mighty mold. So fair was he, all eyes upon him rest. "Rollánd," he said, "wherefore this foolish wrath? Since thy step-father, 'tis well known, I am, For this thou choosest me to seek Marsile! 'Tis well. If God but grant me safe return, I such ill fortune hurl on thee, shall smite Thy life from now and ever with a curse." Rollánd replies:--"Mad words and proud I hear. All know it well, I care for no man's threat; But since a wise man must this message bear, If the King wills it, in your place I go." Aoi.