Page:The Song of Roland.djvu/51

 Of Guenelun the King for news is fain, And for tribute from the great land of Spain. At dawn of day, just as the light grows plain, Into their camp is come the county Guene. AOI.

In morning time is risen the Emperere, Mattins and Mass he’s heard, and made his prayer; On the green grass before the tent his chair, Where Rollant stood and that bold Oliver, Neimès the Duke, and many others there. Guenès arrived, the felon perjurer, Begins to speak, with very cunning air, Says to the King: “God keep you, Sire, I swear! Of Sarraguce the keys to you I bear, Tribute I bring you, very great and rare, And twenty men; look after them with care. Proud Marsilies bade me this word declare: That alcaliph, his uncle, you must spare. My own eyes saw four hundred thousand there, In hauberks dressed, closed helms that gleamed in the air, And golden hilts upon their swords they bare. They followed him, right to the sea they’d fare; Marsile they left, that would their faith forswear, For Christendom they’ve neither wish nor care. But the fourth league they had not compassed, ere Brake from the North tempest and storm in the air; Then were they drowned, they will no more appear. Were he alive, I should have brought him here. The pagan king, in truth, Sire, bids you hear, Ere you have seen one month pass of this year He’ll follow you to France, to your Empire, He will accept the laws you hold and fear; Joining his hands, will do you homage there,