Part 3
LXXVIII From the other part, Chemubles of Muneigre. Right to the ground his hair swept either way; He for a jest would bear a heavier weight Than four yoked mules, beneath their load that strain. That land he had, God's curse on it was plain. No sun shone there, nor grew there any grain, No dew fell there, nor any shower of rain, The very stones were black upon that plain; And many say that devils there remain. Says Chemubles "My sword is in its place, At Rencesvals scarlat I will it stain; Find I Rollanz the proud upon my way, I'll fall on him, or trust me not again, And Durendal I'll conquer with this blade, Franks shall be slain, and France a desert made." The dozen peers are, at this word, away, Five score thousand of Sarrazins they take; Who keenly press, and on to battle haste; In a fir-wood their gear they ready make.
LXXIX
Ready they make hauberks Sarrazinese, That folded are, the greater part, in three; And they lace on good helms Sarragucese; Gird on their swords of tried steel Viennese; Fine shields they have, and spears Valentinese, And white, blue, red, their ensigns take the breeze, They've left their mules behind, and their palfreys, Their chargers mount, and canter knee by knee. Fair shines the sun, the day is bright and clear, Light bums again from all their polished gear. A thousand horns they sound, more proud to seem; Great is the noise, the Franks its echo hear. Says Oliver: "Companion, I believe, Sarrazins now in battle must we meet." Answers Rollanz: "God grant us then the fee! For our King's sake well must we quit us here; Man for his lord should suffer great disease, Most bitter cold endure, and burning heat, His hair and skin should offer up at need. Now must we each lay on most hardily, So evil songs neer sung of us shall be. Pagans are wrong: Christians are right indeed. Evil example will never come of me." AOI.
LXXX
Oliver mounts upon a lofty peak, Looks to his right along the valley green, The pagan tribes approaching there appear; He calls Rollanz, his companion, to see: "What sound is this, come out of Spain, we hear, What hauberks bright, what helmets these that gleam? They'll smite our Franks with fury past belief, He knew it, Guenes, the traitor and the thief, Who chose us out before the King our chief." Answers the count Rollanz: "Olivier, cease. That man is my good-father; hold thy peace."
LXXXI
Upon a peak is Oliver mounted, Kingdom of Spain he sees before him spread, And Sarrazins, so many gathered. Their helmets gleam, with gold are jewelled, Also their shields, their hauberks orfreyed, Also their swords, ensigns on spears fixed. Rank beyond rank could not be numbered, So many there, no measure could he set. In his own heart he's sore astonished, Fast as he could, down from the peak hath sped Comes to the Franks, to them his tale hath said.
LXXXII
Says Oliver: "Pagans from there I saw; Never on earth did any man see more. Gainst us their shields an hundred thousand bore, That laced helms and shining hauberks wore; And, bolt upright, their bright brown spearheads shone. Battle we'll have as never was before. Lords of the Franks, God keep you in valour! So hold your ground, we be not overborne!" Then say the Franks "Shame take him that goes off: If we must die, then perish one and all." AOI.
LXXXIII
Says Oliver: "Pagans in force abound, While of us Franks but very few I count; Comrade Rollanz, your horn I pray you sound! If Charles hear, he'll turn his armies round." Answers Rollanz: "A fool I should be found; In France the Douce would perish my renown. With Durendal I'll lay on thick and stout, In blood the blade, to its golden hilt, I'll drown. Felon pagans to th' pass shall not come down; I pledge you now, to death they all are bound. AOI.
LXXXIV
"Comrade Rollanz, sound the olifant, I pray; If Charles hear, the host he'll turn again; Will succour us our King and baronage." Answers Rollanz: "Never, by God, I say, For my misdeed shall kinsmen hear the blame, Nor France the Douce fall into evil fame! Rather stout blows with Durendal I'll lay, With my good sword that by my side doth sway; Till bloodied o'er you shall behold the blade. Felon pagans are gathered to their shame; I pledge you now, to death they're doomed to-day."
LXXXV
"Comrade Rollanz, once sound your olifant! If Charles hear, where in the pass he stands, I pledge you now, they'll turn again, the Franks." "Never, by God," then answers him Rollanz, "Shall it be said by any living man, That for pagans I took my horn in hand! Never by me shall men reproach my clan. When I am come into the battle grand, And blows lay on, by hundred, by thousand, Of Durendal bloodied you'll see the brand. Franks are good men; like vassals brave they'll stand; Nay, Spanish men from death have no warrant."
LXXXVI
Says Oliver: "In this I see no blame; I have beheld the Sarrazins of Spain; Covered with them, the mountains and the vales, The wastes I saw, and all the farthest plains. A muster great they've made, this people strange; We have of men a very little tale." Answers Rollanz: "My anger is inflamed. Never, please God His Angels and His Saints, Never by me shall Frankish valour fail! Rather I'll die than shame shall me attain. Therefore strike on, the Emperour's love to gain."
LXXXVII
Pride hath Rollanz, wisdom Olivier hath; And both of them shew marvellous courage; Once they are horsed, once they have donned their arms, Rather they'd die than from the battle pass. Good are the counts, and lofty their language. Felon pagans come cantering in their wrath. Says Oliver: "Behold and see, Rollanz, These are right near, but Charles is very far. On the olifant deign now to sound a blast; Were the King here, we should not fear damage. Only look up towards the Pass of Aspre, In sorrow there you'll see the whole rereward. Who does this deed, does no more afterward." Answers Rollanz: "Utter not such outrage! Evil his heart that is in thought coward! We shall remain firm in our place installed; From us the blows shall come, from us the assault." AOI.
LXXXVIII
When Rollant sees that now must be combat, More fierce he's found than lion or leopard; The Franks he calls, and Oliver commands: "Now say no more, my friends, nor thou, comrade. That Emperour, who left us Franks on guard, A thousand score stout men he set apart, And well he knows, not one will prove coward. Man for his lord should suffer with good heart, Of bitter cold and great heat bear the smart, His blood let drain, and all his flesh be scarred. Strike with thy lance, and I with Durendal, With my good sword that was the King's reward. So, if I die, who has it afterward Noble vassal's he well may say it was."
LXXXIX
From the other part is the Archbishop Turpin, He pricks his horse and mounts upon a hill; Calling the Franks, sermon to them begins: "My lords barons, Charles left us here for this; He is our King, well may we die for him: To Christendom good service offering. Battle you'll have, you all are bound to it, For with your eyes you see the Sarrazins. Pray for God's grace, confessing Him your sins! For your souls' health, I'll absolution give So, though you die, blest martyrs shall you live, Thrones you shall win in the great Paradis." The Franks dismount, upon the ground are lit. That Archbishop God's Benediction gives, For their penance, good blows to strike he bids.
XC
The Franks arise, and stand upon their feet, They're well absolved, and from their sins made clean, And the Archbishop has signed them with God's seal; And next they mount upon their chargers keen; By rule of knights they have put on their gear, For battle all apparelled as is meet. The count Rollant calls Oliver, and speaks "Comrade and friend, now clearly have you seen That Guenelun hath got us by deceit; Gold hath he ta'en; much wealth is his to keep; That Emperour vengeance for us must wreak. King Marsilies hath bargained for us cheap; At the sword's point he yet shall pay our meed." AOI.
XCI
To Spanish pass is Rollanz now going On Veillantif, his good steed, galloping; He is well armed, pride is in his bearing, He goes, so brave, his spear in hand holding, He goes, its point against the sky turning; A gonfalon all white thereon he's pinned, Down to his hand flutters the golden fringe: Noble his limbs, his face clear and smiling. His companion goes after, following, The men of France their warrant find in him. Proudly he looks towards the Sarrazins, And to the Franks sweetly, himself humbling; And courteously has said to them this thing: "My lords barons, go now your pace holding! Pagans are come great martyrdom seeking; Noble and fair reward this day shall bring, Was never won by any Frankish King." Upon these words the hosts are come touching. AOI.
XCII
Speaks Oliver: "No more now will I say. Your olifant, to sound it do not deign, Since from Carlun you'll never more have aid. He has not heard; no fault of his, so brave. Those with him there are never to be blamed. So canter on, with what prowess you may! Lords and barons, firmly your ground maintain! Be minded well, I pray you in God's Name, Stout blows to strike, to give as you shall take. Forget the cry of Charles we never may." Upon this word the Franks cry out amain. Who then had heard them all "Monjoie!" acclaim Of vassalage might well recall the tale. They canter forth, God! with what proud parade, Pricking their spurs, the better speed to gain; They go to strike,--what other thing could they?-- But Sarrazins are not at all afraid. Pagans and Franks, you'ld see them now engaged.
XCIII
Marsile's nephew, his name is Aelroth, First of them all canters before the host, Says of our Franks these ill words as he goes: "Felons of France, so here on us you close! Betrayed you has he that to guard you ought; Mad is the King who left you in this post. So shall the fame of France the Douce be lost, And the right arm from Charles body torn." When Rollant hears, what rage he has, by God! His steed he spurs, gallops with great effort; He goes, that count, to strike with all his force, The shield he breaks, the hauberk's seam unsews, Slices the heart, and shatters up the bones, All of the spine he severs with that blow, And with his spear the soul from body throws So well he's pinned, he shakes in the air that corse, On his spear's hilt he's flung it from the horse: So in two halves Aeroth's neck he broke, Nor left him yet, they say, but rather spoke: "Avaunt, culvert! A madman Charles is not, No treachery was ever in his thought. Proudly he did, who left us in this post; The fame of France the Douce shall not be lost. Strike on, the Franks! Ours are the foremost blows. For we are right, but these gluttons are wrong." AOI.
XCIV
A duke there was, his name was Falfarun, Brother was he to King Marsiliun, He held their land, Dathan's and Abirun's; Beneath the sky no more encrimed felun; Between his eyes so broad was he in front A great half-foot you'ld measure there in full. His nephew dead he's seen with grief enough, Comes through the press and wildly forth he runs, Aloud he shouts their cry the pagans use; And to the Franks is right contrarious: "Honour of France the Douce shall fall to us!" Hears Oliver, he's very furious, His horse he pricks with both his golden spurs, And goes to strike, ev'n as a baron doth; The shield he breaks and through the hauberk cuts, His ensign's fringe into the carcass thrusts, On his spear's hilt he's flung it dead in dust. Looks on the ground, sees glutton lying thus, And says to him, with reason proud enough: "From threatening, culvert, your mouth I've shut. Strike on, the Franks! Right well we'll overcome." "Monjoie," he shouts, 'twas the ensign of Carlun. AOI.
XCV
A king there was, his name was Corsablix, Barbarian, and of a strange country, He's called aloud to the other Sarrazins: "Well may we join battle upon this field, For of the Franks but very few are here; And those are here, we should account them cheap, From Charles not one has any warranty. This is the day when they their death shall meet." Has heard him well that Archbishop Turpin, No man he'ld hate so much the sky beneath; Spurs of fine gold he pricks into his steed, To strike that king by virtue great goes he, The hauberk all unfastens, breaks the shield, Thrusts his great spear in through the carcass clean, Pins it so well he shakes it in its seat, Dead in the road he's flung it from his spear. Looks on the ground, that glutton lying sees, Nor leaves him yet, they say, but rather speaks: "Culvert pagan, you lied now in your teeth, Charles my lord our warrant is indeed; None of our Franks hath any mind to flee. Your companions all on this spot we'll keep, I tell you news; death shall ye suffer here. Strike on, the Franks! Fail none of you at need! Ours the first blow, to God the glory be!" "Monjoie!" he cries, for all the camp to hear.
XCVI
And Gerins strikes Malprimis of Brigal So his good shield is nothing worth at all, Shatters the boss, was fashioned of crystal, One half of it downward to earth flies off; Right to the flesh has through his hauberk torn, On his good spear he has the carcass caught. And with one blow that pagan downward falls; The soul of him Satan away hath borne. AOI.
XCVII
And his comrade Gerers strikes the admiral, The shield he breaks, the hauberk unmetals, And his good spear drives into his vitals, So well he's pinned him, clean through the carcass, Dead on the field he's flung him from his hand. Says Oliver: "Now is our battle grand."
XCVIII
Sansun the Duke goes strike that almacour, The shield he breaks, with golden flowers tooled, That good hauberk for him is nothing proof, He's sliced the heart, the lungs and liver through, And flung him dead, as well or ill may prove. Says the Archbishop: "A baron's stroke, in truth."
XCIX
And Anseis has let his charger run; He goes to strike Turgis of Turtelus, The shield he breaks, its golden boss above, The hauberk too, its doubled mail undoes, His good spear's point into the carcass runs, So well he's thrust, clean through the whole steel comes, And from the hilt he's thrown him dead in dust. Then says Rollant: "Great prowess in that thrust."
C
And Engelers the Gascoin of Burdele Spurs on his horse, lets fall the reins as well, He goes to strike Escremiz of Valtrene, The shield he breaks and shatters on his neck, The hauberk too, he has its chinguard rent, Between the arm-pits has pierced him through the breast, On his spear's hilt from saddle throws him dead; After he says "So are you turned to hell." AOI.
CI
And Otes strikes a pagan Estorgant Upon the shield, before its leathern band, Slices it through, the white with the scarlat; The hauberk too, has torn its folds apart, And his good spear thrusts clean through the carcass, And flings it dead, ev'n as the horse goes past; He says: "You have no warrant afterward."
CII
And Berenger, he strikes Estramariz, The shield he breaks, the hauberk tears and splits, Thrusts his stout spear through's middle, and him flings Down dead among a thousand Sarrazins. Of their dozen peers ten have now been killed, No more than two remain alive and quick, Being Chernuble, and the count Margariz.
CIII
Margariz is a very gallant knight, Both fair and strong, and swift he is and light; He spurs his horse, goes Oliver to strike, And breaks his shield, by th'golden buckle bright; Along his ribs the pagan's spear doth glide; God's his warrant, his body has respite, The shaft breaks off, Oliver stays upright; That other goes, naught stays him in his flight, His trumpet sounds, rallies his tribe to fight.
CIV
Common the fight is now and marvellous. The count Rollanz no way himself secures, Strikes with his spear, long as the shaft endures, By fifteen blows it is clean broken through Then Durendal he bares, his sabre good Spurs on his horse, is gone to strike Chemuble, The helmet breaks, where bright carbuncles grew, Slices the cap and shears the locks in two, Slices also the eyes and the features, The hauberk white, whose mail was close of woof, Down to the groin cuts all his body through To the saddle; with beaten gold 'twas tooled. Upon the horse that sword a moment stood, Then sliced its spine, no join there any knew, Dead in the field among thick grass them threw. After he said "Culvert, false step you moved, From Mahumet your help will not come soon. No victory for gluttons such as you."
CV
The count Rollanz, he canters through the field, Holds Durendal, he well can thrust and wield, Right great damage he's done the Sarrazines You'd seen them, one on other, dead in heaps, Through all that place their blood was flowing clear! In blood his arms were and his hauberk steeped, And bloodied o'er, shoulders and neck, his steed. And Oliver goes on to strike with speed; No blame that way deserve the dozen peers, For all the Franks they strike and slay with heat, Pagans are slain, some swoon there in their seats, Says the Archbishop: "Good baronage indeed!" "Monjoie" he cries, the call of Charles repeats. AOI.
CVI
And Oliver has cantered through the crush; Broken his spear, the truncheon still he thrusts; Going to strike a pagan Malsarun; Flowers and gold, are on the shield, he cuts, Out of the head both the two eyes have burst, And all the brains are fallen in the dust; He flings him dead, sev'n hundred else amongst. Then has he slain Turgin and Esturgus; Right to the hilt, his spear in flinders flew. Then says Rollant: "Companion, what do you? In such a fight, there's little strength in wood, Iron and steel should here their valour prove. Where is your sword, that Halteclere I knew? Golden its hilt, whereon a crystal grew." Says Oliver: "I had not, if I drew, Time left to strike enough good blows and true." AOI.
CVII
Then Oliver has drawn his mighty sword As his comrade had bidden and implored, In knightly wise the blade to him has shewed; Justin he strikes, that Iron Valley's lord, All of his head has down the middle shorn, The carcass sliced, the broidered sark has torn, The good saddle that was with old adorned, And through the spine has sliced that pagan's horse; Dead in the field before his feet they fall. Says Rollant: "Now my brother I you call; He'll love us for such blows, our Emperor." On every side "Monjoie" you'ld hear them roar. AOI.
CVIII
That count Gerins sate on his horse Sorel, On Passe-Cerf was Gerers there, his friend; They've loosed their reins, together spurred and sped, And go to strike a pagan Timozel; One on the shield, on hauberk the other fell; And their two spears went through the carcass well, A fallow field amidst they've thrown him dead. I do not know, I never heard it said Which of the two was nimbler as they went. Esperveris was there, son of Borel, And him there slew Engelers of Burdel. And the Archbishop, he slew them Siglorel, The enchanter, who before had been in hell, Where Jupiter bore him by a magic spell. Then Turpin says "To us he's forfeited." Answers Rollanz: "The culvert is bested. Such blows, brother Olivier, I like well."
CIX
The battle grows more hard and harder yet, Franks and pagans, with marvellous onset, Each other strike and each himself defends. So many shafts bloodstained and shattered, So many flags and ensigns tattered; So many Franks lose their young lustihead, Who'll see no more their mothers nor their friends, Nor hosts of France, that in the pass attend. Charles the Great weeps therefor with regret. What profits that? No succour shall they get. Evil service, that day, Guenes rendered them, To Sarraguce going, his own to sell. After he lost his members and his head, In court, at Aix, to gallows-tree condemned; And thirty more with him, of his kindred, Were hanged, a thing they never did expect. AOI.
CX
Now marvellous and weighty the combat, Right well they strike, Olivier and Rollant, A thousand blows come from the Archbishop's hand, The dozen peers are nothing short of that, With one accord join battle all the Franks. Pagans are slain by hundred, by thousand, Who flies not then, from death has no warrant, Will he or nill, foregoes the allotted span. The Franks have lost the foremost of their band, They'll see no more their fathers nor their clans, Nor Charlemagne, where in the pass he stands. Torment arose, right marvellous, in France, Tempest there was, of wind and thunder black, With rain and hail, so much could not be spanned; Fell thunderbolts often on every hand, And verily the earth quaked in answer back From Saint Michael of Peril unto Sanz, From Besencun to the harbour of Guitsand; No house stood there but straight its walls must crack: In full mid-day the darkness was so grand, Save the sky split, no light was in the land. Beheld these things with terror every man, And many said: "We in the Judgement stand; The end of time is presently at hand." They spake no truth; they did not understand; 'Twas the great day of mourning for Rollant.
CXI
The Franks strike on; their hearts are good and stout. Pagans are slain, a thousandfold, in crowds, Left of five score are not two thousands now. Says the Archbishop: "Our men are very proud, No man on earth has more nor better found. In Chronicles of Franks is written down, What vassalage he had, our Emperour." Then through the field they go, their friends seek out, And their eyes weep with grief and pain profound For kinsmen dear, by hearty friendship bound. King Marsilies and his great host draw round. AOI.
CXII
King Marsilies along a valley led The mighty host that he had gathered. Twenty columns that king had numbered. With gleaminag gold their helms were jewelled. Shone too their shields and sarks embroidered. Sounded the charge seven thousand trumpets, Great was the noise through all that country went. Then said Rollanz: "Olivier, brother, friend, That felon Guenes hath sworn to achieve our death; For his treason no longer is secret. Right great vengeance our Emperour will get. Battle we'll have, both long and keenly set, Never has man beheld such armies met. With Durendal my sword I'll strike again, And, comrade, you shall strike with Halteclere. These swords in lands so many have we held, Battles with them so many brought to end, No evil song shall e'er be sung or said." AOI.
CXIII