The Book of the Epic. H. A. Guerber

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The Book of the Epic - H. A.  Guerber


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when a Saracen herald summons Charlemagne to meet the emir. So the French mount to engage in a new battle.

      Such is the stimulus of Charlemagne's word's and of his example, that all his men do wonders. The aged emperor himself finally engages in a duel with the emir, in the midst of which he is about to succumb, when an angel bids him strike one more blow, promising he shall triumph. Thus stimulated, Charlemagne slays the emir, and the Saracens, seeing their leader slain, flee, closely pursued by the Frenchmen, who enter Saragossa in their wake. There, after killing all the men, they pillage the town.

      On discovering that Marsile has meantime died of his wound, Charlemagne orders his widow to France, where he proposes to convert her through the power of love. The remainder of the pagans are compelled to receive baptism, and, when Charlemagne again wends his way through the Pyrenees, all Spain bows beneath his sceptre.

      At Bordeaux, Charlemagne deposits upon the altar of St. Severin, Roland's Olifant, filled with gold pieces, before personally escorting the three august corpses to Blaye, where he sees them interred, ere he hurries on to Aix-la-Chapelle to judge Ganelon.

      The Chastisement of Ganelon. On arriving in his palace, Charlemagne is confronted by Alda or Aude, a sister of Oliver, who frantically questions: "Where is Roland who has sworn to take me to wife?" Weeping bitterly, Charlemagne informs her his nephew is no more, adding that she can marry his son, but Aude rejoins that, since her beloved is gone, she no longer wishes to live. These words uttered, she falls lifeless at the emperor's feet.[11]

      From Spain the emperor made retreat,

       To Aix in France, his kingly seat;

       And thither, to his halls, there came,

       Alda, the fair-and gentle dame.

       "Where is my Roland, sire," she cried,

       "Who vowed to take me for his bride?"

       O'er Karl the flood of sorrow swept;

       He tore his beard, and loudly wept.

       "Dear sister, gentle friend," he said,

       "Thou seekest one who lieth dead:

       I plight to thee my son instead—

       Louis, who lord of my realm shall be."

       "Strange," she said, "seems this to me.

       God and His angels forbid that I

       Should live on earth if Roland die."

       Pale grew her cheek—she sank amain,

       Down at the feet of Carlemaine.

       So died she. God receive her soul!

       The Franks bewail her in grief and dole.

      The time having come for the trial, Ganelon appears before his judges, laden with chains and tied to a stake as if he were a wild beast. When accused of depriving Charlemagne of twenty thousand Frenchmen, Ganelon retorts he did so merely to avenge his wrongs, and hotly denies having acted as a traitor. Thirty of his kinsmen sustain him in this assertion, one of them even volunteering to meet the emperor's champion in a judicial duel. As the imperial champion wins, Ganelon and his relatives are adjudged guilty, but, whereas the latter thirty are merely hanged, the traitor himself is bound to wild horses until torn asunder.

      Having thus done justice, Charlemagne informs his courtiers they are to attend the baptism of a Saracen lady of high degree, who is about to be received into the bosom of the church.

      The men of Bavaria and Allemaine,

       Norman and Breton return again,

       And with all the Franks aloud they cry,

       That Gan a traitor's death shall die.

       They bade be brought four stallions fleet;

       Bound to them Ganelon, hands and feet:

       Wild and swift was each savage steed,

       And a mare was standing within the mead;

       Four grooms impelled the coursers on—

       A fearful ending for Ganelon.

       His every nerve was stretched and torn,

       And the limbs of his body apart were borne;

       The bright blood, springing from every vein,

       Left on the herbage green its stain.

       He dies a felon and recreant:

       Never shall traitor his treason vaunt.

      End of the Song. Having thus punished the traitor and converted the heathen, Charlemagne, lying in his chamber one night, receives a visit from the angel Gabriel, who bids him go forth and do further battle against the pagans. Weary of warfare and longing for rest, the aged emperor moans, "God, how painful is my life!" for he knows he must obey.

      When the emperor's justice was satisfied,

       His mighty wrath did awhile subside.

       Queen Bramimonde was a Christian made.

       The day passed on into night's dark shade;

       As the king in his vaulted chamber lay,

       Saint Gabriel came from God to say,

       "Karl, thou shalt summon thine empire's host,

       And march in haste to Bira's coast;

       Unto Impha city relief to bring,

       And succor Vivian, the Christian king.

       The heathens in siege have the town essayed,

       And the shattered Christians invoke thine aid."

       Fain would Karl such task decline.

       "God! what a life of toil is mine!"

       He wept; his hoary beard he wrung.

      Here ends the Song of Théroulde.

      FOOTNOTES:

      [Footnote 8: Another version of this story can be found in the author's "Legends of the Middle Ages."]

      [Footnote 9: See the author's "Story of Old France."]

      [Footnote 10: All the quotations in this chapter are from John

       O'Hagen's translation of the "Song of Roland."]

      [Footnote 11: See the author's "Legends of the Rhine."]

       Table of Contents

      Who would list to the good lay

       Gladness of the captive grey?

       'Tis how two young lovers met,

       Aucassin and Nicolette,

       Of the pains the lover bore

       And the sorrow he outwore,

       For the goodness and the grace,

       Of his love, so fair of face.

      Sweet the song, the story sweet,

       There is no man hearkens it,

       No man living 'neath the sun,

       So outwearied, so foredone,

       Sick and woful, worn and sad,

       But is healèd, but is glad.

       'Tis so sweet.

       So say they, speak they, tell they the tale.[12]

      This popular mediaeval ballad is in alternate fragments of verse and prose, and relates how the Count of Valence made desperate war against the Count of Biaucaire, a very old and frail man, who saw that his castle was in imminent danger of being taken and sacked. In his distress, this old lord besought his son Aucassin, who so far had taken no interest in the war, to go forth and fight. The youth, however, refused to do so, saying his heart was wrapped up in love for Nicolette,


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