The Song of Roland, LXVIII–LXXVII

Charles the great, he cannot but deplore. And with him Franks an hundred thousand mourn, Who for Rollanz have marvellous remorse. The felon Guenes had treacherously wrought; From pagan kin has had his rich reward, Silver and gold, and veils and silken cloths, Camels, lions, with many a mule and horse. Barons from Spain King Marsilies hath called, Counts and viscounts and dukes and almacours, And the admirals, and cadets nobly born; Within three days come hundreds thousands four. In Sarraguce they sound the drums of war; Mahum they raise upon their highest tow'r, Pagan is none, that does not him adore. They canter then with great contention Through Certeine land, valleys and mountains, on, Till of the Franks they see the gonfalons, Being in rereward those dozen companions; They will not fail battle to do anon.

Marsile's nephew is come before the band, Riding a mule, he goads it with a wand, Smiling and clear, his uncle's ear demands: "Fair Lord and King, since, in your service, glad, I have endured sorrow and sufferance, Have fought in field, and victories have had. Give me a fee: the right to smite Rollanz! I'll slay him clean with my good trenchant lance, If Mahumet will be my sure warrant; Spain I'll set free, deliver all her land From Pass of Aspre even unto Durestant. Charles will grow faint, and recreant the Franks; There'll be no war while you're a living man." Marsilie gives the glove into his hand. AOI.

Marsile's nephew, holding in hand the glove, His uncle calls, with reason proud enough: "Fair Lord and King, great gift from you I've won. Choose now for me eleven more baruns, So I may fight those dozen companions." First before all there answers Falfarun; —Brother he was to King Marsiliun— "Fair sir nephew, go you and I at once Then verily this battle shall be done; The rereward of the great host of Carlun, It is decreed we deal them now their doom." AOI.

King Corsablis is come from the other part, Barbarian, and steeped in evil art. He's spoken then as fits a good vassal, For all God's gold he would not seem coward. Hastes into view Malprimis of Brigal, Faster than a horse, upon his feet can dart, Before Marsile he cries with all his heart: "My body I will shew at Rencesvals; Find I Rollanz, I'll slay him without fault."

An admiral is there of Balaguet; Clear face and proud, and body nobly bred; Since first he was upon his horse mounted, His arms to bear has shewn great lustihead; In vassalage he is well famoused; Christian were he, he'd shewn good baronhead. Before Marsile aloud has he shouted: "To Rencesvals my body shall be led; Find I Rollanz, then is he surely dead, And Oliver, and all the other twelve; Franks shall be slain in grief and wretchedness. Charles the great is old now and doted, Weary will be and make no war again; Spain shall be ours, in peace and quietness." King Marsilies has heard and thanks him well. AOI.

An almacour is there of Moriane, More felon none in all the land of Spain. Before Marsile his vaunting boast hath made: "To Rencesvals my company I'll take, A thousand score, with shields and lances brave. Find I Rollanz, with death I'll him acquaint; Day shall not dawn but Charles will make his plaint." AOI.

From the other part, Turgis of Turtelose, He was a count, that city was his own; Christians he would them massacre, every one. Before Marsile among the rest is gone, Says to the King: "Let not dismay be shewn! Mahum's more worth than Saint Peter of Rome; Serve we him well, then fame in field we'll own. To Rencesvals, to meet Rollanz I'll go, From death he'll find his warranty in none. See here my sword, that is both good and long With Durendal I'll lay it well across; Ye'll hear betimes to which the prize is gone. Franks shall be slain, whom we descend upon, Charles the old will suffer grief and wrong, No more on earth his crown will he put on."

From the other part, Escremiz of Valtrenne, A Sarrazin, that land was his as well. Before Marsile he cries amid the press: "To Rencesvals I go, pride to make less; Find I Rollanz, he'll not bear thence his head, Nor Oliver that hath the others led, The dozen peers condemned are to death; Franks shall be slain, and France lie deserted. Of good vassals will Charles be richly bled." AOI.

From the other part, a pagan Esturganz; Estramariz also, was his comrade; Felons were these, and traitors miscreant. Then said Marsile: "My Lords, before me stand! Into the pass ye'll go to Rencesvals, Give me your aid, and thither lead my band." They answer him: "Sire, even as you command. We will assault Olivier and Rollant, The dozen peers from death have no warrant, For these our swords are trusty and trenchant, In scalding blood we'll dye their blades scarlat. Franks shall be slain, and Chares be right sad. Terra Major we'll give into your hand; Come there, Sir King, truly you'll see all that Yea, the Emperour we'll give into your hand."

Running there came Margariz of Sibile, Who holds the land by Cadiz, to the sea. For his beauty the ladies hold him dear; Who looks on him, with him her heart is pleased, When she beholds, she can but smile for glee. Was no pagan of such high chivalry. Comes through the press, above them all cries he, "Be not at all dismayed, King Marsilie! To Rencesvals I go, and Rollanz, he Nor Oliver may scape alive from me; The dozen peers are doomed to martyry. See here the sword, whose hilt is gold indeed, I got in gift from the admiral of Primes; In scarlat blood I pledge it shall be steeped. Franks shall be slain, and France abased be. To Charles the old, with his great blossoming beard, Day shall not dawn but brings him rage and grief, Ere a year pass, all France we shall have seized, Till we can lie in th' burgh of Saint Denise." The pagan king has bowed his head down deep. AOI.

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.