| |
| WITH comrades twelve upon the main | |
| King Charles set out to sail. | |
| The Holy Land he hoped to gain, | |
| But drifted in a gale. | |
| |
| Then spake Sir Roland, hero brave: | 5 |
| “Well, I can fight and shield; | |
| Yet neither stormy wind nor wave | |
| Will to my weapon yield.” | |
| |
| Sir Holger spake, from Denmark’s strand: | |
| “The harp I fain would play; | 10 |
| But what avails the music bland | |
| When tempests roaring sway!” | |
| |
| Sir Oliver was not too glad; | |
| Upon his sword he’d stare: | |
| “For my own weal ’twere not so bad— | 15 |
| I grieve for good old Clare.” | |
| |
| Said wicked Ganilon with gall | |
| (He said it ’neath his breath): | |
| “The devil come and take ye all— | |
| Were I but spared this death!” | 20 |
| |
| Archbishop Turpin deeply sighed: | |
| “The knights of God are we. | |
| Oh, come our Saviour, be our guide, | |
| And lead us o’er the sea!” | |
| |
| Then spake Sir Richard Fearless stern: | 25 |
| “Ye demons there in hell, | |
| I served ye many a goodly turn, | |
| Now serve ye me as well!” | |
| |
| “My counsel often has been heard,” | |
| Sir Naimes did remark. | 30 |
| “Fresh water, though, and helpful word | |
| Are rare upon a bark.” | |
| |
| Then, spake Sir Riol, old and gray: | |
| “An aged knight am I; | |
| And they shall lay my corpse away | 35 |
| Where it is good and dry.” | |
| |
| And then Sir Guy began to sing— | |
| He was a courtly knight: | |
| “Fain I would have a birdie’s wing, | |
| And to my love take flight!” | 40 |
| |
| Then Count Garein, the noble, said: | |
| “God, danger from us keep! | |
| I’d rather drink the wine so red | |
| Than water in the deep.” | |
| |
| Sir Lambert spake, a sprightly youth: | 45 |
| “May God behold our state! | |
| I’d rather eat good fish, forsooth, | |
| Than be myself a bait.” | |
| |
| Then quoth Sir Gottfried: “Be it so, | |
| I heed not how I fare: | 50 |
| Whatever I must undergo, | |
| My brothers all would share.” | |
| |
| But at the helm King Charles sat by, | |
| And never said a word, | |
| And steered the ship with steadfast eye | 55 |
| Till no more tempest stirred. | |
| |
