Come Frank and Norman to council in,
     Bavarian, Saxon, and Poitevin,
     With all the barons of Teuton blood;
     But the men of Auvergne are mild of mood—­
     Their hearts are swayed unto Pinabel. 
     Saith each to other, “Pause we well. 
     Let us leave this plea, and the king implore
     To set Count Ganelon free once more. 
     Henceforth to serve him in love and faith: 
     Count Roland lieth cold in death: 
     Not all the gold beneath the sky
     Can give him back to mortal eye;
     Such battle would but madness be.” 
     They all applauded his decree,
     Save Thierry—­Geoffrey’s brother he.

     CCXXXIII

     The barons came the king before. 
     “Fair Sire, we all thy grace implore,
     That Gan be suffered free to go,
     His faith and love henceforth to show. 
     Oh, let him live—­a noble he. 
     Your Roland you shall never see: 
     No wealth of gold may him recall.” 
     Karl answered, “Ye are felons all.”

     CCXXXIV

     When Karl saw all forsake him now,
     Dark grew his face and drooped his brow. 
     He said, “Of men most wretched I!”
     Stepped forth Thierry speedily,
     Duke Geoffrey’s brother, a noble knight,
     Spare of body, and lithe and light,
     Dark his hair and his hue withal,
     Nor low of stature, nor over tall: 
     To Karl, in courteous wise, he said,
     “Fair Sire, be not disheartened. 
     I have served you truly, and, in the name
     Of my lineage, I this quarrel claim. 
     If Roland wronged Sir Gan in aught,
     Your service had his safeguard wrought. 
     Ganelon bore him like caitiff base,
     A perjured traitor before your face. 
     I adjudge him to die on the gallows tree;
     Flung to the hounds let his carcase be,
     The doom of treason and felony. 
     Let kin of his but say I lie,
     And with this girded sword will I
     My plighted word in fight maintain.” 
     “Well spoken,” cry the Franks amain.

     CCXXXV

     Sir Pinabel stood before Karl in place,
     Vast of body and swift of pace,—­
     Small hope hath he whom his sword may smite. 
     “Sire, it is yours to decide the right,
     Bid this clamor around to pause. 
     Thierry hath dared to adjudge the cause;
     He lieth.  Battle thereon I do.” 
     And forth his right-hand glove he drew. 
     But the Emperor said, “In bail to me
     Shall thirty of his kinsmen be;
     I yield him pledges on my side: 
     Be they guarded well till the right be tried.” 
     When Thierry saw the fight shall be,
     To Karl his right glove reacheth he;
     The Emperor gave his pledges o’er. 
     And set in place were benches four—­
     Thereon the champions take their seat,
     And all is ranged in order meet,—­
     The preparations Ogier speeds,—­
     And both demand their arms and steeds.