Chapter XVIII

"Seigneurs Barons, which of you shall we send
As messengers to Sarraguce where rules
Marsile?"--Rolland 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.