XXV

     “Gan,” said the Emperor, “draw thou near: 
     Take my glove and my baton here;
     On thee did the choice of thy fellows fall.” 
     “Sire, ’twas Roland who wrought it all. 
     I shall not love him while life may last,
     Nor Olivier his comrade fast,
     Nor the peers who cherish and prize him so,—­
     Gage of defiance to all I throw.” 
     Saith Karl, “Thine anger hath too much sway. 
     Since I ordain it, thou must obey.” 
     “I go, but warranty none have I
     That I may not like Basil and Basan die.”

     XXVI

     The Emperor reached him his right-hand glove;
     Gan for his office had scanty love;
     As he bent him forward, it fell to ground: 
     “God, what is this?” said the Franks around;
     “Evil will come of this quest we fear.” 
     “My lords,” said Ganelon, “ye shall hear.”

     XXVII

     “Sire,” he said, “let me wend my way;
     Since go I must, what boots delay?”
     Said the king, “In Jesus’ name and mine!”
     And his right hand sained him with holy sign. 
     Then he to Ganelon’s grasp did yield
     His royal mace and missive sealed.

     XXVIII

     Home to his hostel is Ganelon gone,
     His choicest of harness and arms to don;
     On his charger Taschebrun to mount and ride,
     With his good sword Murgleis girt at side. 
     On his feet are fastened the spurs of gold,
     And his uncle Guinemer doth his stirrup hold. 
     Then might ye look upon cavaliers
     A-many round him who spake in tears. 
     “Sir,” they said, “what a woful day! 
     Long were you ranked in the king’s array,
     A noble vassal as none gainsay. 
     For him who doomed you to journey hence
     Carlemagne’s self shall be scant defence;
     Foul was the thought in Count Roland’s mind,
     When you and he are so high affined. 
     Sir,” they said, “let us with you wend.” 
     “Nay,” said Ganelon, “God forefend. 
     Liefer alone to my death I go,
     Than such brave bachelors perish so. 
     Sirs, ye return into France the fair;
     Greeting from me to my lady bear,
     To my friend and peer Sir Pinabel,
     And to Baldwin, my son, whom ye all know well,—­
     Cherish him, own him your lord of right.” 
     He hath passed on his journey and left their sight.

     The embassy and crime of Ganelon

     XXIX

     Ganelon rides under olives high,
     And comes the Saracen envoys nigh. 
     Blancandrin lingers until they meet,
     And in cunning converse each other greet. 
     The Saracen thus began their parle: 
     “What a man, what a wondrous man is Karl! 
     Apulia—­Calabria—­all subdued,
     Unto England crossed he the salt sea rude,
     Won for Saint Peter his tribute fee;
     But what in our marches maketh he?”
     Ganelon said, “He is great of heart,
     Never man shall fill so mighty a part.”