Fair and bright did the evening fall: 
     The ten white mules were stabled in stall;
     On the sward was a fair pavilion dressed,
     To give to the Saracens cheer of the best;
     Servitors twelve at their bidding bide,
     And they rest all night until morning tide. 
     The Emperor rose with the day-dawn clear,
     Failed not Matins and Mass to hear,
     Then betook him beneath a pine,
     Summoned his barons by word and sign: 
     As his Franks advise will his choice incline.

     XII

     Under a pine is the Emperor gone,
     And his barons to council come forth anon: 
     Archbishop Turpin, Duke Ogier bold
     With his nephew Henry was Richard the old,
     Gascony’s gallant Count Acelin,
     Tybalt of Rheims, and Milo his kin,
     Gerein and his brother in arms, Gerier,
     Count Roland and his faithful fere,
     The gentle and valiant Olivier: 
     More than a thousand Franks of France
     And Ganelon came, of woful chance;
     By him was the deed of treason done. 
     So was the fatal consult begun.

     XIII

     “Lords my barons,” the Emperor said,
     “King Marsil to me hath his envoys sped. 
     He proffers treasure surpassing bounds,
     Bears and lions, and leashed hounds;
     Seven hundred camels that bend the knee;
     A thousand hawks that have moulted free;
     Four hundred mules with Arab gold,
     Which fifty wains might scantly hold. 
     But he saith to France must I wend my way: 
     He will follow to Aix with brief delay,
     Bend his heart unto Christ’s belief,
     And hold his marches of me in fief;
     Yet I know not what in his heart may lie.” 
     “Beware! beware!” was the Franks’ outcry.

     XIV

     Scarce his speech did the Emperor close,
     When in high displeasure Count Roland rose,
     Fronted his uncle upon the spot,
     And said, “This Marsil, believe him not: 
     Seven full years have we warred in Spain;
     Commibles and Noples for you have I ta’en,
     Tudela and Sebilie, cities twain;
     Valtierra I won, and the land of Pine,
     And Balaguet fell to this arm of mine. 
     King Marsil hath ever a traitor been: 
     He sent of his heathens, at first fifteen. 
     Bearing each one on olive bough,
     Speaking the self-same words as now. 
     Into council with your Franks you went,
     Lightly they flattered your heart’s intent;
     Two of your barons to him you sent,—­
     They were Basan and Basil, the brother knights: 
     He smote off their heads on Haltoia’s heights. 
     War, I say!—­end as you well began,
     Unto Saragossa lead on your van;
     Were the siege to last your lifetime through,
     Avenge the nobles this felon slew.”

     XV