"Seigneurs Barons, which of you shall we send

As messengers to Sarraguce where rules

Marsile?"—Rollánd responds:—"Behold me here!"

"—You shall not, by my troth!" cries Olivier,

"Your pride too fierce, and courage far too hot;

I fear some misadventure from your zeal.

Should our King grant me but his leave, 'tis I

Will go!"—The King exclaimed:—"Be silent both—

Nor you, nor he, shall yonder set your foot!

Ay, by this hoary beard of mine, I swear,

Not one of my twelve Peers shall thither go."

The French are dumb—-all silenced by these words.

Aoi.