Part 15 (1/2)
Weep from their eyes barons and chevaliers, A thousand score, they swoon upon the earth; Duke Neimes for them was moved with pity rare.
CLXXVIII
No chevalier nor baron is there, who Pitifully weeps not for grief and dule; They mourn their sons, their brothers, their nephews, And their liege lords, and trusty friends and true; Upon the ground a many of them swoon.
Thereon Duke Neimes doth act with wisdom proof, First before all he's said to the Emperour: ”See beforehand, a league from us or two, From the highways dust rising in our view; Pagans are there, and many them, too.
Canter therefore! Vengeance upon them do!”
”Ah, G.o.d!” says Charles, ”so far are they re-moved!
Do right by me, my honour still renew!
They've torn from me the flower of France the Douce.”
The King commands Gebuin and Otun, Tedbalt of Reims, also the count Milun: ”Guard me this field, these hills and valleys too, Let the dead lie, all as they are, unmoved, Let not approach lion, nor any brute, Let not approach esquire, nor any groom; For I forbid that any come thereto, Until G.o.d will that we return anew.”
These answer him sweetly, their love to prove: ”Right Emperour, dear Sire, so will we do.”
A thousand knights they keep in retinue.
AOI.
CLXXIX
That Emperour bids trumpets sound again, Then canters forth with his great host so brave.
Of Spanish men, whose backs are turned their way, Franks one and all continue in their chase.
When the King sees the light at even fade, On the green gra.s.s dismounting as he may, He kneels aground, to G.o.d the Lord doth pray That the sun's course He will for him delay, Put off the night, and still prolong the day.
An angel then, with him should reason make, Nimbly enough appeared to him and spake: ”Charles, canter on! Light needst not thou await.
The flower of France, as G.o.d knows well, is slain; Thou canst be avenged upon that crimeful race.”
Upon that word mounts the Emperour again.
AOI.
CLx.x.x
For Charlemagne a great marvel G.o.d planned: Making the sun still in his course to stand.
So pagans fled, and chased them well the Franks Through the Valley of Shadows, close in hand; Towards Sarraguce by force they chased them back, And as they went with killing blows attacked: Barred their highways and every path they had.
The River Sebre before them reared its bank, 'Twas very deep, marvellous current ran; No barge thereon nor dromond nor caland.
A G.o.d of theirs invoked they, Tervagant.
And then leaped in, but there no warrant had.
The armed men more weighty were for that, Many of them down to the bottom sank, Downstream the rest floated as they might hap; So much water the luckiest of them drank, That all were drowned, with marvellous keen pangs.
”An evil day,” cry Franks, ”ye saw Rollant!”
CLx.x.xI
When Charles sees that pagans all are dead, Some of them slain, the greater part drowned; (Whereby great spoils his chevaliers collect) That gentle King upon his feet descends, Kneels on the ground, his thanks to G.o.d presents.
When he once more rise, the sun is set.
Says the Emperour ”Time is to pitch our tents; To Rencesvals too late to go again.
Our horses are worn out and foundered: Unsaddle them, take bridles from their heads, And through these meads let them refreshment get.”
Answer the Franks: ”Sire, you have spoken well.”
AOI.
CLx.x.xII
That Emperour hath chosen his bivouac; The Franks dismount in those deserted tracts, Their saddles take from off their horses' backs, Bridles of gold from off their heads unstrap, Let them go free; there is enough fresh gra.s.s-- No service can they render them, save that.
Who is most tired sleeps on the ground stretched flat.
Upon this night no sentinels keep watch.
CLx.x.xIII