The Song of Roland. Anonymous

then, and tell me, Sir Ganelon,

      How may Roland to death be done?"

      "Through Cizra's pass will the Emperor wind,

      But his rear will linger in march behind;

      Roland and Olivier there shall be,

      With twenty thousand in company.

      Muster your battle against them then,

      A hundred thousand heathen men.

      Till worn and spent be the Frankish bands,

      Though your bravest perish beneath their hands.

      For another battle your powers be massed,

      Roland will sink, overcome at last.

      There were a feat of arms indeed,

      And your life from peril thenceforth be freed.

      XLVI

      "For whoso Roland to death shall bring,

      From Karl his good right aim will wring,

      The marvellous host will melt away,

      No more shall be muster a like array,

      And the mighty land will in peace repose."

      King Marsil heard him to the close;

      Then kissed him on the neck, and bade

      His royal treasures be displayed.

      XLVII

      What said they more? Why tell the rest?

      Said Marsil, "Fastest bound is best;

      Come, swear me here to Roland's fall."

      "Your will," said Gan, "be mine in all."

      He swore on the relics in the hilt

      Of his sword Murgleis, and crowned his guilt.

      XLVIII

      A stool was there of ivory wrought.

      King Marsil bade a book be brought,

      Wherein was all the law contained

      Mahound and Termagaunt ordained.

      The Saracen hath sworn thereby,

      If Roland in the rear-guard lie,

      With all his men-at-arms to go,

      And combat till the count lay low.

      Sir Gan repeated, "Be it so."

      XLIX

      King Marsil's foster-father came,

      A heathen, Valdabrun by name.

      He spake to Gan with laughter clear.

      "My sword, that never found its peer,—

      A thousand pieces would not buy

      The riches in the hilt that lie,—

      To you I give in guerdon free;

      Your aid in Roland's fall to see,

      Let but the rear-guard be his place."

      "I trust," said Gan, "to do you grace."

      Then each kissed other on the face.

      L

      Next broke with jocund laughter in,

      Another heathen, Climorin.

      To Gan he said, "Accept my helm,

      The best and trustiest in the realm,

      Conditioned that your aid we claim

      To bring the marchman unto shame."

      "Be it," said Ganelon, "as you list."

      And then on cheek and mouth they kissed.