Читать книгу The Song of Roland - Anonymous - Страница 6

XXVIII

Home to his hostel is Ganelon gone,

His choicest of harness and arms to don;

On his charger Taschebrun to mount and ride,

With his good sword Murgleis girt at side.

On his feet are fastened the spurs of gold,

And his uncle Guinemer doth his stirrup hold.

Then might ye look upon cavaliers

A-many round him who spake in tears.

"Sir," they said, "what a woful day!

Long were you ranked in the king's array,

A noble vassal as none gainsay.

For him who doomed you to journey hence

Carlemagne's self shall be scant defence;

Foul was the thought in Count Roland's mind,

When you and he are so high affined.

Sir," they said, "let us with you wend."

"Nay," said Ganelon, "God forefend.

Liefer alone to my death I go,

Than such brave bachelors perish so.

Sirs, ye return into France the fair;

Greeting from me to my lady bear,

To my friend and peer Sir Pinabel,

And to Baldwin, my son, whom ye all know well,—

Cherish him, own him your lord of right."

He hath passed on his journey and left their sight.

The Embassy and Crime of Ganelon

XXIX

Ganelon rides under olives high,

And comes the Saracen envoys nigh.

Blancandrin lingers until they meet,

And in cunning converse each other greet.

The Saracen thus began their parle:

"What a man, what a wondrous man is Karl!

Apulia—Calabria—all subdued,

Unto England crossed he the salt sea rude,

Won for Saint Peter his tribute fee;

But what in our marches maketh he?"

Ganelon said, "He is great of heart,

Never man shall fill so mighty a part."