All drown most cruelly. Far better that their heads. no other ancient French poems, is interpreted differently by the A glance: French corses strew the plains in heaps; And there may they on beds of heavenly flowers, Have ye served me! "Barons strike down these Christian people! Discolored was the brow, Yet proud the look; the dimmed and sightless eyes. of the Marches of Brittany. I lay the crowns of all Kings at your feet.'. So great the grief, Of those one hundred thousand Franks, that none. Where none can guard him. Thereafter could King Carle such forces raise, And the Great Land at last would rest in peace.". By the French lances forced, they fly the field. "—Forthwith one thousand Franks of France, O'errun each height and pass.—None shall descend, Despite ill news, ere seven hundred swords. Against the French at once. Whose good shield now was not a denier worth: The crystal boss all broken, and one half, Fall'n on the ground. Your death alone for us a vengeance full! You may be … To celebrate Saint Michael's solemn feast. Montjoie! Plainly enough you hear his call for help. If you Nor daughter have I left, nor other heir; Some rights to Spain the Emir has; to him. Quiz La Chanson de Roland : Quizz sur 'La Chanson de Roland', l'un des plus célèbres textes du Moyen Âge. French army and slaughtered the whole guard to the last man. ad viam, a vei, avoie, away! Non è certamente facile, ed esorbiterebbe dal nostro compito, ricercare chi sia stato il compilatore di questo Poema: nell’ultimo verso del codice di Oxford un oscuro trovero, Turold, God! Commentaire sur la Chanson de Roland: texte critique de M. Genin. Carle of sweet France is brave, but the Emir feels, Before him neither fear nor dread. Said Baligant: "Ill words are these of thine: [Far better die by the keen edge of sword."]. To search throughout the city's synagogues, And mosques for all their idols and graved signs, Of gods—these to be broken up and crushed, Nor sorcery nor falsehood left. (Eginhard's Life of Charlemagne, Vol. Throughout the camp the drums sonorous beat. Ride ye, and all my legions you shall lead; But of the best: The first shall be the Turks. Now comes to greet him the fair [lady] Aude, And asks the King:—"Where is Rollánd the chief, Who pledged his faith to take me for his wife?". Yea—but God knows what way the thing will end. Save for later . Will in my palace take Salvation's Faith. What claims he?" Nor there a horse has strength enough to stand; If one need grass, he bites it as he lies. Your horn! More than one hundred thousand are baptized. "Seigneurs Barons," began the Emp'ror Carle, "The King Marsile his messengers hath sent. To meet Carlemagne good counsel I will give, Thence, if he trust my words, he ne'er will be, Expelled." Rayonnement de la "Chanson de Roland." Yea, and great loss your people then will have. With us the justice true of God! This day the land of Spain, Into the Christian hands will fall enslaved!". His head is cleft in twain, And gushes forth the brain. Me there to lead my host." At this, the Pagan king bowed low his head. Carlmagne. Hearing the Frenchmen's sobs, the Count Rollánd. "—Said Olivier:—. See Note 9, p. 4, of his seventh edition. With grief and rage Rollánd's great heart is full; He rides. And his good steed from neck to shoulder bleed! When sought the Emperor his nephew there. It was not possible to take revenge on the spot. "—Renewing then their hues and cries. Have perished; King Marsile lost his right hand. Mons gaudii, name of Carle's standard; OLIFANT, Roland's ivory horn. First spake. La Chanson de Roland, English The Song of Roland, Old French epic poem that is probably the earliest (c. 1100) chanson de geste and is considered the masterpiece of the genre. Rollánd lies in his grave; nor wealth, nor gold, Restores him to your eyes. Prostrate she fell. As the oldest Chanson de Geste, the Chanson de Roland is generally dated in the early 12th century (ca. Oft plucks and twists the beard on lip and cheek. 12. With hostages a score. Mounted upon his horse named Salt-Perdut, He aims a blow at Anseïs' shield, and cuts. His main army had passed unmolested; but at La chanson de Roland, texte critique, traduction et commentaire, grammaire et glossaire par Léon Gautier, professeur à l'École des chartes. His words. Ready to die, not one shall fail you here.". [Andrée Lhéritier; Michel Robic;] Home. Three more whose lives God saved; yet those brave knights. Companion, you disdained. Give me the glove and staff, and I will go, And speak my mind to that proud Saracen. set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to None such, The hosts are numberless, the warriors fierce—, The encount'ring legions fighting hand to hand, Noblest exploits achieved. For all his peers he prays that God may call. To-day sweet France will not her honor lose! On!—Already flee the Franks.". The King Marsile, who held a gold-winged dart. issued. And fast their cohorts rally on the field. Swords by their sides, hilts bright with gold inlaid, Who with him crossed the sea, not to submit. Destroys himself and others drags to death. When Carle the Angel's heavenly accent hears. "Beloved Rollánd, to France I now return. Who, in his pity, sheds not tears for sons. ", The Count Rollànd rides through the battle-field. Such treatment was his true desert. Giving for penance his command to strike. Publisher: Le Livre de Poche. At Carle he levels fair its trenchant steel. Vast realms, I shall have conquered once that now are ruled. Eke Olivier, whom both he greatly trusts. Stood the three children safe in burning flames, Merciful God! The Emperor bade them drag him to his bar. The valorous Olivier, and the Duke Naimes, Who, stepping forth, with most perfidious tongue, Began to speak:—"Hail! Give him, with strangest fear for Count Rollánd. I swear. Thus said Chernubles:—"My sword hangs at my belt; At Ronceval I will dye it crimson! Was there, Malquidant, son of king Malcud; Outshines all others in the sun's bright rays. Twelve in French, by Francisque Michel, Bourdillon, Delécluze, Génin, P. Silence everywhere The time before the end Now I am alone The blow of my horn Will not break the calm. Of such good vassals Carle will see the loss.". Beneath an olive tree they halt, and soon. By the Archbishop's. King Carle. Who 'round him stand; then with firm voice exclaims: "Barons! His downcast looks see stretched on earth. "Would you have hostages? Twelve sergeants to their service were assigned, And there they rested till the dawn repelled, Heard mass and matins first, then having gone. As soon as Carle knows it is death indeed, Four countesses he summons, bids them bear, All night they watched the body, and at morn. termination of an ecclesiastical chant—Preface, xxvii.—and later to This day, O God of ours, defend King Carle, Turn Thou the scale of battle to his side! They arm themselves. Both knights now made them ready for the fight. La Chanson de Roland : Traduction nouvelle et complète, rythmée conformément au texte roman, précédée de Roland et la belle Aude, prologue à la Chanson de Roland by Fabre, Joseph, 1842-1916. Now for this sword I mourn.... Far better die, May God, Our Father, save sweet France this shame! At such a blow the French exclaim: "Barons, strike ever! Dies under him. Far better die than not to give him death. Spread o'er the field the men of France dismount. Please read our short guide how to send a book to Kindle. The Karlomagnus Saga, an Icelandic copy of the Oxford MS.; XIIIth. His face and body all besmeared with blood. Then tenderly he speaks: Of love we led; ne'er didst thou wrong to me. Was slain, thou broughtest ruin through my land. For crime! The one true friend! our days by the name of Ronceval, a terrible event took place. Their service good. The King replied:—"Too wroth you are. They rode away and came to Carle of France. And tears his hair with both hands from his head. For his right hand Carle's head shall pay.". Main La Chanson de Roland. cries Olivier. With all his might; gold studded helm, head, trunk, Hauberk asunder cleaves; the blow, e'en through. This name, Shall be the battle-cry his warriors shout——, Hangs from his neck a large and spreading shield. Came thither too the gray-haired Blancandrin, With Turfaleu his son and heir; with them, The Kalif, brother and good friend of King. Us held! should. The Pagans turn their backs—God wills. Before Marsile he makes a boastful vaunt: Full twenty thousand men with lance and shield. His body burns with heat and drips with sweat; His head is torn by pain; his temple burst. Il guanto destro tese verso Dio, San Gabriele l’ha preso di sua mano. Most valiant knights are both; the steeds they ride, Are swift and stout; with spurs in flanks, and freed, Of rein, they dash.—The warriors all their might. And Count Rollánd cannot escape them both, And free your life from war for evermore.". Send-to-Kindle or Email . This is the message of King Carle of France; Hear his command:—"Receive the Christian law"—. "Fair son, Malprime," said th' Emir Baligant, "Yesterday fell in death the noble knight. Sweet France, bereft art thou! Traitors vile and cowards all; Yea, all their law I count no denier worth. And those most favored swallow monstrous draughts. Turns pale; distressed, he can no longer stand. As he is pierced through liver, heart and lungs. Who holds Valence and fiefs along the Rosne. ", The march. learned introductions of Léon Gautier, for more complete information. Embrace, and join in friendship with King Carle. Through the defiles you can in safety pass, And fear no harm from man while yet I live. Gone from his friend, his body stretched on earth, His face low in the dust, his tears gush out. Strike, Chevaliers! Both armies are immense; their squadrons bright. To snare Rollánd and lead him to his death. Arming themselves beneath a grove of pines. But lend us help against the Count Rollánd, And show us how to find him in the rear.". With heavy weight of gold and silver packed; Then fifty chariots with their burthens heaped: Well can this treasure all his soldiers pay. Rich treasures will I give, To thee: ten mules laden with purest gold. Montjoie!" Is placed a faldstool of pure gold whereon. He cries:—"Delay not—disembark! More glorious deeds of chivalry achieved; Pressed through the crowd, he cries above the rest. Drops lifeless by this blow, against a rock. The French [strike] hard; they strike with all their force. Turpin spurs hard his good steed 'gainst the wretch; One blow strikes down his strong Toledo shield: The miscreant dead upon the green sward falls. Send-to-Kindle or Email . Ne'er did he treason love. Still would he know if Carle returns; once more. Upon the verdant grass fall dead both knight, And steed. Are left alone—what more was there to do? That in the hot affray they lose their spears: Anon a thousand flashing swords and more. We bore your message to Carl'magne; Both hands he lifted, praying to his God; Learn from his lips if it be peace or war. "—he plucks out his white beard. The Count Rollánd feels now his end approach. Son auteur n'est pas connu. Kölbing. But leave this folly, and to wisdom hold; That all the French will marvel at the gift. If in the pass or mount I find the knight, I swear to give him combat to the death. A corse;—he cries. From all are chosen twenty thousand knights. (Hruolandus britannici limitis præfectus), with many more, perished in charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. "Fair nephew, we shall go, both you and I; The rear of Carle's great host is doomed to die! Dead 'midst one thousand Saracens he drops. And set his back against a branching pine. Thus said the King:—"Thanks be to God for this! Who hears of this. And spreading orchard; there around him stand. "—And each. Rollánd and the twelve Peers to guard their lives. of which is in Paris Nat. the original, which is nine centuries old. "Sire Baligant, This day brings you mishap; Malprime, your son. The Song of Roland (French: La Chanson de Roland) is an 11th-century epic poem (chanson de geste) based on the Battle of Roncevaux Pass in 778, during the reign of Charlemagne.It is the oldest surviving major work of French literature and exists in various manuscript versions, which testify to its enormous and enduring popularity from the 12th to 16th centuries. Language: french. He hides his face—Naimes, riding near, inquired: "What thought, O King, weighs now upon your heart? In all the land no Knight remains but slain, Upon its banks the French encamp—So nigh—, Had you the will, unsafe would be their flight.". The gates of Sarraguce. Gerin. In the Emperor's name. Each wrestles with the other in his arms; But which shall fall, which stand, this no man knows. "To-day," he cries, "at last sweet France shall lose, Her fame! Is he to die, or hanged, or burnt, or slain. Who would not for the gold of heav'n be base: "If there I find Rollànd, we meet in fight. You, by my sire and all our men esteemed. Présentation. Brandishing high the shaft of his own lance. White is his beard, his head all flowering white; Graceful his form and proud his countenance; None need to point him out to those who come. As they draw near, Rollánd calls up his pride. Let all our trumpets blow!". The Pagans say:—"Hard is this blow! ", Nor speak another word, save by command!". Forward, like valiant knights, the Pagans ride. Two Pagans take their curbed steeds in charge. Now give your help to King Marsile, who craves, Your aid, and as your guerdon all the realm. Well helped are they whom God Almighty aids. ISBN 13: 9782253053415. To arms!". ", Said Ganelon:—"The truth you speak, I know.". he cries, Loudly and clear; then calls Rollánd, his friend. Crying out against their gods, on Tervagan, Each says to each, "Ah, caitiffs, what shall now. century; French MSS., No. From henceforth widowed of such valiant knights. To horse! Then falls. With this his right hand glove of deer-skin gave, Good pledges." There will you join him on Saint-Michael's feast, Accept the Christian law, and swear to be, His man in faith and honor. It dealt, then broke and fell; now his good sword, Loved Durendal, he draws, spurs on his steed, 'Gainst Chernubles, splits his bright helm adorned. L a Chanson de Roland ou de Roncevaux, ou encore Les Douze Pairs, est une chanson de geste, douzième branche de la geste de Pépin, composée à la fin du XVe siècle (après 1086).C’est l’un des plus anciens poèmes héroïques français du Moyen Âge, et le plus remarquable de tous. The French cry out: "For your own woe wished ye to see Rollánd!". And gores his flanks with spurs of purest gold. No day, Shall dawn for me unmarked by tears and moans.". Will serve his lord with truer faith and love. With eyes uplifted toward the rising sun: Thy hand it was saved Jonas from the whale, And Daniel didst thou save from cruel pain, When thrown among the lions. With all his kin who sureties were for him! The Song of Roland. The point grazed only, wounding not. Where lives Rollánd the Captain, I shall say, 'He lieth dead in Spain;' and I henceforth, Shall hold my realm in bitter pain. Now hear me all, for love of God! Wondrous the raging battle. The golden spear went through the Pagan's heart, And mid the brambles of the road has struck. This counsel spoke:—"Fair Naimes, ride close by me; The wretch who brought you to this cruel fight, Has breathed his last, his body by my lance. Forward the first of all spurs on his horse. La Chanson de Roland - Riassunto; La Chanson de Roland - Riassunto Riassunto: Chiamata semplicemente la Canzone di Orlando, è la più antica e famosa tra le canzoni di gesta della letteratura francese medievale, celebra un episodio della guerra di Carlo Magno e dei suoi paladini, tra cui il prode Orlando, contro i Mori. O'erspreads his breast-plate. vast amount of explanatory notes, grammatical and historical, to which He was, but from his pride sprang mortal rage. Would he or not, he swooned and fell to earth. May God behold you, friend! And in him springs again his former strength. Nor vale, nor wood that shelter could afford; Ride forward to the fight!" A daring Knight is Count Rabel. By that great law ye hold the best, beware, Thy heart fails not. And lights: the same day reached they Sarraguce. ill starred art thou! Of thirty other bears which speak as men. Whose blade you'll see all reeking with red blood. Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions As Baron true, great, strong, of handsome mold; Thy peers acknowledge thee as valiant knight; Well, let this combat cease, between the King. Four hundred warriors well armed cap-a-pie, The bravest of the host, then closed their ranks. and Gautier's Glossary. Transfixed. Calling Jangleu d'ultremer, The Emir said:—"Jangleu, step forth; most wise, Art thou, thy knowledge great; thy counsel e'er, For Franks or Arabs deemest thou?" When sees the Count Rollánd his sword can never break. Library, marked "Digby, 23," a copy of the XIIth. Carle may have peace, and fears no living man!". These ten, the fiercest, he addressed: "Seigneurs Barons, ye shall go toward Carl'magne; I give of gold and silver, lands and fiefs, The Pagans answer all:—"[Well said our lord! Sheer cleft—a fragment falls upon the earth. Categories: … Thin, light of frame. Marsile a Knight; lord of four hundred ships. CLXVII (2259-70) Lo sente Orlando che ha la morte addosso: dalle orecchie gli esce fuori il cervello. The date of composition is put in the period … Ne'er seen before nor will be seen. He spake and on his saddle swooned. In battle he received from trenchant swords! So many brave!—Lords, to sweet France ye will go. As rashed the thongs. Those warriors from Lorraine and Burgundy: In number fifty thousand knights; close helmed, In hauberk mailed—a stout short-handled lance. File: PDF, 9.16 MB. ", Still speaks he there not unlike vassal true. Prostrates himself and offers thanks to God. And now the Pagans all. The King Marsile the brave bears not the blame, Myself three hundred thousand men in arms. He cries, "not here shalt thou say Carle lost aught; In thine own land, that thou hast reft from Carle, One denier's worth, or me or others harmed! La forme et la langue du texte L'histoire de la Chanson de Roland (résumé) Deux scènes célèbres : Ganelon et le gant – Roland sonne du cor- ... La Chanson de Roland a été écrite en anglo-normand, dialecte de langue d'oïl. Will call thee fool. In shreds and through his bosom drives a lance. The Pagans fly, Them in the Val-Tenebre. These, twenty thousand count, so all report; Well furnished with good steeds and arms; for dread. One hundred thousand captains 'mong the best; Hardy and stout, of features proud, hair flecked, With gray, and beard all white; in hauberk clad, And linèd coat of mails, girt with their swords, Of Spain and France; for shelter, brilliant shields. It is not right that Pagans should own thee; By Christian hand alone be held. Methinks he passed two hundred years; by arms. ALVERNE and ALFERNE, Auvergne, French Province. Begins to speak as one of knowledge vast. "—You shall not, by my troth!" Else, not four deniers is he worth: a monk, In cloister should he be, and spend his life. He draws Almace, his sword of burnished steel, And rushing 'mid the throng, one thousand blows. Publication date 1894 Usage Public Domain Mark 1.0 Topics Song of Roland, epic, Old French, France, Middle Ages Publisher Tours : Alfred Mame et fils Collection folkscanomy; … ", Says Ganelon:—"Methinks too long I stay."—. With his great host. The Pagans say: On Carle, who brought such villains to our land, As rather than depart will die. Le texte de cette chanson, qui compte 4002 vers, est uniquement composé de Their triumph, but how many fall of ours! ", Now, seeing all will fail him, o'er Carle's eyes, And features gloom descends; by grief o'erwhelmed, He cries: "Unhappy that I am!" Four hundred thousand gathered in three days, And prays before him.—They then madly ride. 271 (OpenGulf text creation., Petit de Julleville Roland) - transcribe page. — Excerpted from The Song of … The Count Gerin sits on his horse, Sorel, They loose the reins, and both spur on against. 'Twere better far that these should lose their heads. I to the Emperor's host belonged, and served. "Strike Pagans! His warriors fierce will never fail their King. ", Grieve for thy sorrow; but for longer speech, I can not stay; for Carle, I know, will not, Be still. 'Tis he who held Carthage, Alferne, Garnaille. On thigh—shields on their necks—each lance in rest. They stand assoiled and quit. Within his breast the pennon of the flag; The shaft o'erthrows him from the saddle, dead. Carle hears it, and his Franks. "—said Ganelon, "while lives Rollánd: From here to farthest east no knight his peer. We hear!". Lose all, even to his very hair and skin! Dropped to the earth both kings, both to their feet. O'er him with gentle words and tender looks. it is done, let us go on! ", "Barons! These welcome death ere they succumb. The upraised swords, and strew the ground with dead. And Mahum's flag defenseless, in his heart, Springs quick the thought, wrong may be on his side.