Song and Legend From the Middle Ages
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William D. McClintock and Porter Lander McClintock >> Song and Legend From the Middle Ages
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The king hears Roland's horn and hurries back, only to find him
and all his knights slain. He swoons, revives, but swoons again.
Stanza 212.--
As Karl the king revived once more,
His hands were held by barons four.
He saw his nephew, cold and wan;
Stark his frame, but his hue was gone;
His eyes turned inward, dark and dim;
And Karl in love lamented him:
"Dear Roland, God thy spirit rest
In paradise, amongst His blest!
In evil hour thou soughtest Spain:
No day shall dawn but sees my pain,
And me of strength and pride bereft,
No champion of mine honour left;
Without a friend beneath the sky;
And though my kindred still be nigh,
Is none like thee their ranks among."
With both his hands his beard he wrung.
The Franks bewailed in unison;
A hundred thousand wept like one.
Stanza 213.--
"Dear Roland, I return again
To Laon, to mine own domain;
Where men will come from many a land,
And seek Count Roland at my hand.
A bitter tale must I unfold--
'In Spanish earth he lieth cold.'
A joyless realm henceforth I hold,
And weep with daily tears untold.
Stanza 214--
"Dear Roland, beautiful and brave,
All men of me will tidings crave,
When I return to La Chapelle.
Oh, what a tale is mine to tell!
That low my glorious nephew lies.
Now will the Saxon foeman rise;
Palermitan and Afric bands,
And men from fierce and distant lands.
To sorrow sorrow must succeed;
My hosts to battle who shall lead,
When the mighty captain is overthrown?
Ah! France deserted now, and lone.
Come, death, before such grief I bear."
Began he with his hands to tear;
A hundred thousand fainted there.
Stanza 215.--
"Dear Roland, and was this thy fate?
May Paradise thy soul await.
Who slew thee wrought fair France's bane:
I cannot live so deep my pain.
For me my kindred lie undone;
And would to Holy Mary's Son,
Ere I at Cizra's gorge alight,
My soul may take its parting flight:
My spirit would with theirs abide;
My body rest their dust beside."
With sobs his hoary beard he tore.
"Alas!" said Naimes, "for the Emperor."
The Franks take terrible vengeance on the Moors who survive. Then
they bury their dead comrades and all return to France.
Stanza 225.
--From Spain the Emperor made retreat,
To Aix in France, his kingly seat;
And thither, to his halls, there came,
Alda, the fair and gentle dame.
"Where is my Roland, sire," she cried,
"Who vowed to take me for his bride?
O'er Karl the flood of sorrow swept;
He tore his beard and loud he wept.
"Dear Sister, gentle friend," he said,
"Thou seekest one who lieth dead:
I plight to thee my son instead,--
Louis, who lord of my realm shall be."
"Strange," she said, "this seems to me.
God and his angels forbid that I
Should live on earth if Poland die."
Pale grow her cheek--she sank amain,
Down at the feet of Carlemaine.
So died she. God receive her soul!
The Franks bewail her in grief and dole.
Stanza 226.--
So to her death went Alda fair.
The king but deemed she fainted there.
While dropped his tears of pity warm,
He took her hands and raised her form.
Upon his shoulder drooped her head,
And Karl was ware that she was dead.
When thus he saw that life was o'er,
He summoned noble ladies four.
Within a cloister was she borne;
They watched beside her until morn;
Beneath a shrine her limbs were laid;
Such honour Karl to Alda paid.
ROMANCES.
Another form of narrative literature in the Middle Ages is that
of Romances, and the great products of it are the Arthurian
Romances and the Romances of Antiquity. THE ARTHURIAN CYCLE OF
ROMANCES is a set of romantic stories founded on the legends of
Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, with which was early
fused the legend of the Holy Graal. The legend has sources as far
back as the ninth century, but expanded into definite shape in
France and England in the twelfth. It had its first and highest
popular development in France. Here they were collected and
thrown into verse by Chrestien de Troyes. It became at once a
general European possession and expanded to vast proportions. In
England the Arthur stories flourished both independently and as
translations from French. Sir Thomas Malory collected in the
latter part of the fifteenth century a great number of these
sources, translated, edited, abridged, and rewrote the whole into
that charming book "Morte D'Arthur". It is accepted that this
book, though so late, gives a true impression of the
characteristics of the older romances. We select from this rather
than from other translations of French originals, to give a
mediaeval flavor to the selection and have the advantage of
quoting a classic.
Alongside the Arthurian Romances, flourished many romances of
antiquity. The more important of these cycles are the ROMANCE OF
ALEXANDER and the ROMANCE OF TROY, while others worth mentioning
are the ROMANCE OF THEBES and the ROMANCE OF AENEAS. They are all
very long poems, consisting of series of stories partly derived
from classic sources, partly invented by trouveres. They are
important (1) as connecting, however loosely, mediaeval with
classical literature, and (2) as showing some scholarship on the
part of their authors and interest in general culture.
FROM MORTE D'ARTHUR.
Book I. Chapter 23.
How Arthur by the mean of Merlin gat Excalibur his sword of the
Lady of the lake.
Right so the king and he departed, and went until an hermit that
was a good man and a great leach. So the hermit searched all his
wounds and gave him good salves; so the king was there three
days, and then were his wounds well amended that he might ride
and go, and so departed. And as they rode, Arthur said, I have no
sword. No force, said Merlin, hereby is a sword that shall be
yours and I may. So they rode till they came to a lake, the which
was a fair water and broad, and in the midst of the lake Arthur
was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, that held a fair
sword in that hand. Lo, said Merlin, yonder is that sword that I
spake of. With that they saw a damsel going upon the lake: What
damsel is that? said Arthur. That is the Lady of the lake, said
Merlin; and within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a
place as any on earth, and richly beseen, and this damsel will
come to you anon, and then speak ye fair to her that she will
give you that sword. Anon withal came the damsel unto Arthur and
saluted him, and he her again. Damsel, said Arthur, what sword is
that, that yonder the arm holdeth above the water? I would it
were mine' for I have no sword. Sir Arthur king, said the damsel,
that sword is mine, and if ye will give me a gift when I ask it
you, ye shall have it. By my faith, said Arthur, I will give you
what gift ye will ask. Well, said the damsel, go ye into yonder
barge and row yourself to the sword, and take it and the scabbard
with you, and I will ask my gift when I see my time. So Sir
Arthur and Merlin alight, and tied their horses to two trees, and
so they went into the ship, and when they came to the sword that
the hand held, Sir Arthur took it up by the handles, and took it
with him. And the arm and the hand went under the water; and so
they came unto the land and rode forth.
Book III. Chapter 1.
How king Arthur took a wife, and wedded Guenever daughter to
Leodegrance, king of the land of Cameliard, with whom he had the
Round Table.
In the beginning of Arthur, after he was chosen king by adventure
and by grace--for the most part of the barons knew not that he
was Uther Pendragon's son, but as Merlin made it openly
known,--many kings and lords made great war against him for that
cause; but well Arthur overcame them all; for the most part of
the days of his life he was ruled much by the council of Merlin.
So it fell on a time king Arthur said unto Merlin, My barons will
let me have no rest, but needs I must take a wife, and I will
none take but by thy council and by thine advice. It is well
done, said Merlin, that ye take a wife, for a man of your bounty
and nobleness should not be without a wife. Now is there any that
ye love more than another? Yea, said king Arthur, I love
Guenever, the daughter of king Leodegrance, of the land of
Cameliard, which Leodegrance holdeth in his house the Table
Round, that ye told he had of my father, Uther. And this damsel
is the most valiant and fairest lady that I know living, or yet
that ever I could find. Sir, said Merlin, as of her beauty and
fairness she is one of the fairest on live. But and ye loved her
not so well as ye do, I could find you a damsel of beauty and of
goodness that should like you and please you, and your heart
were not set; but there as a man's heart is set, he will be loth
to return. That is truth, said king Arthur. But Merlin warned the
king covertly that Guenever was not wholesome for him to take to
wife, for he warned him that Launcelot should love her, and she
him again; and so he turned his tale to the adventures of the
Sangreal. Then Merlin desired of the king to have men with him
that should enquire of Guenever, and so the king granted him. And
Merlin went forth to king Leodegrance of Cameliard, and told him
of the desire of the king that he would have unto his wife
Guenever his daughter. That is to me, said king Leodegrance, the
best tidings that ever I heard, that so worthy a king of prowess
and noblesse will wed my daughter. And as for my lands I will
give him wist I it might please him, but he hath lands enough,
him needeth none, but I shall send him a gift shall please him
much more, for I shall give him the Table Round, the which Uther
Pendragon gave me, and when it is full complete there is an
hundred knights and fifty. And as for an hundred good knights I
have myself, but I lack fifty, for so many have been slain in my
days. And so king Leodegrance delivered his daughter Guenever
unto Merlin, and the Table Round, with the hundred knights, and
so they rode freshly, with great royalty, what by water and what
by land, till that they came nigh unto London.
Book III. Chapter 2.
How the knights of the Round Table were ordained, and their
sieges blessed by the bishop of Canterbury.
When king Arthur heard Of the coming of Guenever and the hundred
knights with the Table Round, then king Arthur made great joy for
their coming, and that rich present, and said openly, This fair
lady is passing welcome unto me, for I have loved her long, and
therefore there is nothing so lief to me. And these knights with
the Round Table please me more than right great riches. And in
all haste the king let ordain for the marriage and the coronation
in the most honourablest wise that could be devised. Now Merlin,
said king Arthur, go thou and espy me in all this land fifty
knights which be of most prowess and worship. Within short time
Merlin had found such knights that should fulfil twenty and eight
knights, but no more he could find. Then the bishop of Canterbury
was fetched, and he blessed the sieges with great royalty and
devotion, and there set the eight and twenty knights in their
sieges. And when this was done Merlin said, Fair sirs, ye must
all arise and come to king Arthur for to do him homage; he will
have the better will to maintain you. And so they arose and did
their homage. And when they were gone Merlin found in every siege
letters of gold that told the knights' names that had sitten
therein. But two sieges were void: And so anon came young
Gawaine, and asked the king a gift. Ask, said the king, and I
shall grant it you. Sir, I ask that ye will make me knight that
same day ye shall wed fair Guenever. I will do it with a good
will, said king Arthur, and do unto you all the worship that I
may, for I must by reason you are my nephew, my sister's son.
It is now the Vigil of the feast of Pentecost, and the knights
are all at Arthur's court. Sir Launcelot is suddenly desired to
go on a mission by a fair damsel who takes him to a forest and an
abbey.
Book XIII. Chapter 1.
Truly, said Sir Launcelot, a gentlewoman brought me hither, but I
know not the cause. In the meanwhile, as they thus stood talking
together, there came twelve nuns which brought with them Galahad,
the which was passing fair and well made, that unneth in the
world men might not find his match; and all those ladies wept.
Sir, said the ladies, we bring you here this child, the which we
have nourished, and we pray you to make him a knight; for of a
more worthier man's hand may he not receive the order of
knighthood. Sir Launcelot beheld that young squire, and saw him
seemly and demure as a dove, with all manner of good features,
that he wend of his age never to have seen so fair a man of form.
Then said Sir Launcelot, Cometh this desire of himself? He and
all they said, Yea. Then shall he, said Sir Launcelot, receive
the high order of knighthood as tomorrow at the reverence of the
high feast. That night Sir Launcelot had passing good cheer, and
on the morn at the hour of prime, at Galahad's desire, he made
him knight, and said, God make him a good man, For beauty faileth
you not as any that liveth.
Sir Launcelot returns to court. It is noticed that the back of
the "siege (seat) perilous," at the Round Table has a new
inscription saying that this day this long unfilled seat should
be filled. Before sitting down to feast on this day, it was an
old custom to see "some adventure."
Book XIII. Chapter 2.
So as they stood speaking, in came a squire, and said unto the
king, Sir, I bring unto you marvellous tidings. What be they?
said the king. Sir, there is here beneath at the river a great
stone, which I saw fleet above the water, and therein saw I
sticking a sword. The king said, I will see that marvel. So all
the knights went with him, and when they came unto the river,
they found there a stone fleeting, as it were of red marble, and
therein stack a fair and a rich sword, and in the pomell thereof
were precious stones, wrought with subtil letters of gold. Then
the barons read the letters, which said in this wise: Never shall
man take me hence but only he by whose side I ought to hang, and
he shall be the best knight of the world. When the king had seen
these letters, he said unto Sir Launcelot, Fair sir, this sword
ought to be yours, for I am sure ye be the best knight of the
world. Then Sir Launcelot answered full soberly: Certes, sir, it
is not my sword: also, sir, wit ye well I have no hardiness to
set my hand to, for it longed not to hang by my side. Also who
that assayeth to take that sword, and falleth of it, he shall
receive a wound by that sword, that he shall not be whole long
after. And I will that ye wit that this same day will the
adventures of the Sancgreal, that is called the holy vessel,
begin.
Sir Gawaine tries to draw out the sword but fails. They sit at
table and an old man brings in the young knight, Sir Galahad.
Book XIII. Chapter 4.
Then the old man made the young man to unarm him; and he was in a
coat of red sendel, and bare a mantle upon his shoulder that was
furred with ermine, and put that upon him. And the old knight
said unto the young knight, Sir, follow me. And anon he led him
unto the siege perilous, where beside sat Sir Launcelot, and the
good man lift up the cloth, and found there letters that said
thus: This is the siege of Galahad the haut prince. Sir, said the
old knight, wit ye well that place is yours. And then he set him
down surely in that siege . . . . . . . . . Then all the knights
of the Table Round marvelled them greatly of Sir Galahad, that he
durst sit there in that siege perilous, and was so tender of age,
and wist not from whence he came, but all only by God, and said,
This is he by whom the Sancgreal shall be achieved, for there sat
never none but he, but he were mischieved.
King Arthur showed the stone with the sword in it to Sir Galahad.
He lightly drew out the sword and put it in his sheath. Then the
king had all his knights come together to joust ere they
departed.
Book XIII. Chapter 6.
Now, said the king, I am sure at this quest of the Sancgreal
shall all ye of the Table Round depart, and never shall I see you
again whole together, therefore I will see you all whole together
in the meadow of Camelot, to just and to tourney, that after your
death men may speak of it, that such good knights were wholly
together such a day. As unto that council, and at the king's
request, they accorded ill, and took on their harness that longed
unto justing. But all this moving of the king was for this
intent, for to see Galahad proved, for the king deemed he should
not lightly come again unto the court after his departing. So
were they assembled in the meadow, both more and less. Then Sir
Galahad, by the prayer of the king and the queen, did upon him a
noble jesserance, and also he did on his helm, but shield would
he take none for no prayer of the king. And then Sir Gawaine and
other knights prayed him to take a spear. Right so he did; and
the queen was in a tower with all her ladies for to behold that
tournament. Then Sir Galahad dressed him in the midst of the
meadow, and began to break spears marvellously, that all men had
wonder of him, for he there surmounted all other knights, for
within a while he had thrown down many good knights of the Table
Round save twain, that was Sir Launcelot and Sir Percivale.
Book XIII. Chapter 7.
And then the king and all estates went home unto Camelot, and so
went to evensong to the great minster. And so after upon that to
supper, and every knight sat in his own place as they were
toforehand. Then anon they heard cracking and crying of thunder,
that them thought the place should all to- drive. In the midst of
this blast entered a sun-beam more clearer by seven times than
ever they saw day, and all they were alighted of the grace of the
Holy Ghost. Then began every knight to behold other, and either
saw other by their seeming fairer than ever they saw afore. Not
for then there was no knight might speak one word a great while,
and so they looked every man on other, as they had been dumb.
Then there entered into the hall the holy Graile covered with
white samite, but there was none might see it, nor who bare it.
And there was all the hall full filled with good odours, and
every knight had such meats and drinks as he best loved in this
world: and when the holy Graile had been borne through the hall,
then the holy vessel departed suddenly, that they wist not where
it became. Then had they all breath to speak. And then the king
yielded thankings unto God of his good grace that he had sent
them. Certes, said the king, we ought to thank our Lord Jesu
greatly, for that he hath shewed us this day at the reverence of
this high feast of Pentecost. Now, said Sir Gawaine, we have been
served this day of what meats and drinks we thought on, but one
thing beguiled us, we might not see the holy Graile, it was so
preciously covered: wherefore I will make here avow, that
to-morn, without longer abiding, I shall labour in the quest of
the Sancgreal, that I shall hold me out a twelvemonth and a day,
or more if need be, and never shall I return again unto the court
till I have seen it more openly than it hath been seen here; and
if I may not speed, I shall return again as he that may not be
against the will of our Lord Jesu Christ. When they of the Table
Round heard Sir Gawaine say so, they arose up the most party, and
made such avows as Sir Gawaine had made.
Book XVII. Chapter 20.
How Galahad and his fellows were fed of the holy Sangreal, and
how our Lord appeared to them, and other things. Then king
Pelles and his son departed. And therewithal beseemed them that
there came a man and four angels from heaven, clothed in likeness
of a bishop, and had a cross in his hand, and these four angels
bare him up in a chair, and set him down before the table of
silver whereupon the Sancgreal was, and it seemed that he had in
midst of his forehead letters that said, See ye here Joseph the
first bishop of Christendom, the same which our Lord succoured in
the city of Sarras, in the spiritual place. Then the knights
marvelled, for that bishop was dead more than three hundred years
tofore. Oh knights, said he, marvel not, for I was sometime an
earthly man. With that they heard the chamber door open, and
there they saw angels, and two bare candles of wax, and the third
a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled marvellously, that
three drops fell within a box which he held with his other hand.
And they set the candles upon the table, and the third the towel
upon the vessel, and the fourth, the holy spear even upright upon
the vessel. And then the bishop made semblant as though he would
have gone to the sacring of the mass. And then he took an ubbly,
which was made in likeness of bread; and at the lifting up there
came a figure in likeness of a child, and the visage was as red
and as bright as any fire, and smote himself into the bread, so
that they all saw it, that the bread was formed of a fleshly man,
and then he put it into the holy vessel again. And then he did
that longed to a priest to do to a mass. And then he went to
Galahad and kissed him, and bad him go and kiss his fellows, and
so he did anon. Now, said he, servants of Jesu Christ, ye shall
be fed afore this table with sweet meats, that never knights
tasted. And when he had said, he vanished away; and they set them
at the table in great dread, and made their prayers. Then looked
they, and saw a man come out of the holy vessel, that had all the
signs of the passion of Jesu Christ, bleeding all openly, and
said, My knights and my servants and my true children, which be
come out of deadly life into spiritual life, I will now no longer
hide me from you, but ye shall see now a part of my secrets and
of my hid things: now hold and receive the high meat which ye
have so much desired. Then took he himself the holy vessel, and
came to Galahad, and he kneeled down and there he received his
Saviour, and after him so received all his fellows; and they
thought it so sweet that it was marvellous to tell. Then said he
to Galahad, Son, wotest thou what I hold betwixt my hands? Nay,
said he, but if ye will tell me. This is, said he, the holy dish
wherein I ate the lamb on Sher-thursday. And now hast thou seen
that thou most desiredst to see, but yet hast thou not seen it so
openly as thou shalt see it in the city of Sarras, in the
spiritual place.
LYRIC POETRY--FRENCH.
Lyric poetry sprang up very early in Northern France, having a
spontaneous and abundant growth in the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries. Of the earliest lyrics, the critics distinguish two
varieties (l) the Romance, and (2) the Pastourelle. These are
generally dramatic love stories, full of gay and simple life and
extremely artistic and musical in form. Along with these was
produced a vast amount of simple lyric poetry on love and other
personal emotions. The number of poems written was immense. About
two hundred names of poets have come down to us, besides hundreds
of anonymous pieces.
The Romances and Pastourelles of the northern trouveres were soon
greatly influenced by the more artful poetry of the Provencal
troubadours, producing the highly artificial but charming
rondeaus and ballades of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.
But the freshest, most individual work is that of the earlier
time.
CHATELAIN DE COUCY. Thirteenth Century.
The first approach of the sweet spring
Returning here once more,--
The memory of the love that holds
In my fond heart such power,--
The thrush again his song assaying,--
The little rills o'er pebbles playing,
And sparkling as they fall,--
The memory recall
Of her on whom my heart's desire
Is, shall be, fixed till I expire.
With every season fresh and new
That love is more inspiring:
Her eyes, her face, all bright with joy,--
Her coming, her retiring,
Her faithful words, her winning ways,--
That sweet look, kindling up the blaze,
Of love, so gently still,
To wound, but not to kill,--
So that when most I weep and sigh,
So much the higher springs my joy.
--Tr. by Taylor.
THIBAUT OF CHAMPAGNE, KING OF NAVARRE. Early Thirteenth Century.
Lady, the fates command, and I must go,--
Leaving the pleasant land so dear to me:
Here my heart suffered many a heavy woe;
But what is left to love, thus leaving thee?
Alas! that cruel land beyond the sea!
Why thus dividing many a faithful heart,
Never again from pain and sorrow free,
Never again to meet, when thus they part?
I see not, when thy presence bright I leave,
How wealth, or joy, or peace can be my lot;
Ne'er yet my spirit found such cause to grieve
As now in leaving thee; and if thy thought
Of me in absence should be sorrow-fraught,
Oft will my heart repentant turn to thee,
Dwelling in fruitless wishes, on this spot,
And all the gracious words here said to me.
O gracious God! to thee I bend my knee,
For thy sake yielding all I love and prize;
And O, how mighty must that influence be,
That steals me thus from all my cherished joys!
Here, ready, then, myself surrendering,
Prepared to serve thee, I submit; and ne'er
To one so faithful could I service bring,
So kind a master, so beloved and dear.
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