Page:The Song of Roland.djvu/44

 Guenès had on a cloke of sable skin, And over it a veil Alexandrin; These he throws down, they’re held by Blancandrin; But not his sword, he’ll not leave hold of it, In his right hand he grasps the golden hilt. The pagans say: “A noble baron, this.” AOI.

Before the King’s face Guenès drawing near Says to him: “Sire, wherefore this rage and fear? Seeing you are, by Charles, of Franks the chief, Bidden to hold the Christians’ right belief. One half of Spain he’ll render as your fief, The rest Rollanz, his nephew, shall receive, Proud parcener in him you’ll have indeed. If you will not to Charles this tribute cede, To you he’ll come, and Sarraguce besiege; Take you by force, and bind you hands and feet, Bear you outright ev’n unto Aix his seat. You will not then on palfrey nor on steed, Jennet nor mule, come cantering in your speed; Flung you will be on a vile sumpter-beast; Tried there and judged, your head you will not keep. Our Emperour has sent you here this brief.” He’s given it into the pagan’s nief.

Now Marsilies is turnèd white with ire, He breaks the seal and casts the wax aside, Looks in the brief, sees what the King did write: “Charlès commands, who holds all France by might, I bear in mind his bitter grief and ire; ’Tis of Basan and ’s brother Basilye, Whose heads I took on th’ hill by Haltilye. If I would save my body now alive,