The Song of Roland and Other Poems of Charlemagne

by Simon Gaunt (Translator), Karen Pratt (Translator)

Charles the king, our emperor great,
Has been a full seven years in Spain.
As far as the sea he conquered this haughty land.
Not a single castle remains standing in his path


Charlemagne (768-814) was crowned Holy Roman Emperor in 800 and presided over a huge empire. He frequently appears in literature as a great warlord and pious crusading figure. In 778, the rearguard of Charlemagne's retreating army was ambushed and defeated at the battle of Roncevaux. This became the inspiration for songs and poems celebrating deeds of valour in the face of overwhelming odds, through the character of Charlemagne's nephew (the imaginary) Roland. The Song of Roland is the most stirring and moving epic poem of the European Middle Ages, offering a particularly heady mixture of history, legend, and poetry.


Presented here in a lively and idiomatic new translation, the Song of Roland offers fascinating insights into medieval ideas about heroism, manhood, religion, race, and nationhood which were foundational for modern European culture. The Song of Roland is accompanied here by two other medieval French epics about Charlemagne, both of which show him to be a far more equivocal figure than that portrayed by the Roland: the Occitan Daurel and Beton, in which he is a corrupt and avaricious monarch; and the Journey of Charlemagne to Jerusalem and Constantinople, which gives the heroes of the Roland a comic makeover.


ABOUT THE SERIES: For over 100 years Oxford World's Classics has made available the widest range of literature from around the globe. Each affordable volume reflects Oxford's commitment to scholarship, providing the most accurate text plus a wealth of other valuable features, including expert introductions by leading authorities, helpful notes to clarify the text, up-to-date bibliographies for further study, and much more.

Genres: Poetry, Classics, Medieval, Literature, Mythology, Religion, Christianity

288 pages, Paperback

Published February 1, 2017

About the author

See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simon_Gaunt

Reviews

[Adam McPhee · Rating 3 out of 5]

Admittedly I only read the intro and Daurel et Beto, being already familiar with The Song of Roland and Le Pelerinage de Charlemagne. Still, just browsing the Roland translation I want to come back and read it at some point. It looks a lot clearer than the Sayers version, though I suspect Burgess will remain my favourite.

Daurel et Beto, I was vaguely familiar with the plot from reading various summaries elsewhere, but I really wasn't prepared for the violence. It's not the martial violence common to the geste, but rather a lot of women being tortured and infanticide. Still, there's much to commend here. We finally have the gestes depicting childhood and lives outside of the chivalry. Would be interesting to compare this depiction of a jongleur to the few instances in other gestes. Usually it's just a knowing nod to tip your servers, but Daurel gets a much fuller life here even if he is just sort of merged with the typical depiction of a knight.

[Eilidh Fyfe · Rating 2 out of 5]

The song of Roland basically ran as: Battle commences, all honourable. Guy falls into a faint. Someone is impaled. Another guy falls into a faint. France weeps. Honour, honour. Brains bashed out. France weeps again. Another falls into a faint etc etc.

Brain was very much on autopilot until the King demanding to know whether a guy shagged his daughter a hundred times in one night. That was quite out there.

[Nicole Entin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Very much in keeping with the classical epic tradition. Interesting motifs in the prophetic dreams of Charlemagne, epic formulas of arming scenes and a catalogue of the divisions of the French army, and perhaps an interesting comparison could be made between Achilles/Patroclus and Roland/Oliver.

[Uriah O'Terry · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love reading propaganda.

[Miba · Rating 4 out of 5]

Came for the Song of Roland, stayed for the rest of the Charlemagne poems. Super readable, smooth translation of three different yet overlapping poems. Great fun.

[Gastjäle · Rating 4 out of 5]

This excellent compilation shows three poems of the medieval French: the epic Song of Roland, the lesser, unfinished epic of Daurel and Beton and the miracle tale of Charlemagne’s Journey. While the stories have remarkable differences in terms of their subject matter and their treatment of Charlemagne, they also have plenty in common.

All three poems make use of rapidly changing verb tenses, the intended effect remaining somewhat unclear. It could well be, that the sudden switches between the present, preterite and perfect are all meant to be taken in as the historical present. Regardless of their intention, they morph the story in a very curious way: The present brings the events to the fore, making them immediate and palpable. The preterite casts them to the background, giving the narrative a sense of an actual tale told to an audience by a troubadour. The perfect has a more solemn, even declaratory nature to it, and while it is also somewhat removed from the immediacy of the present, it nonetheless comes with certain tension, as if the story was ready to hurl to the foreground any second now.

Due to the swiftness of the tense changes, the reading can become a bit disorientating. Sometimes the fight scenes are beautifully embellished by violent present tense actions, sometimes a person’s state of being is cast into the “preterition”. It was not uncommon either that there would be a tense change within a single sentence, and it was especially during those sudden hops that one felt an uneasy drop in one’s consciousness, something that could not really be fully condemned as a narrative fault but neither something that could not be lauded for any ingenuity. Nonetheless, in The Song of Roland, the present tense is used in the midst of battle to a genuinely shocking effect, and this definitely seems to be intentional.

The Song of Roland differs from the other two poems also in terms of the presentation. To use technical terms, there is an abundance of laisses similaires and laisses parallèles. The former signify laisses (or medieval French verses) that repeat a certain event that chronologically speaking has already happened, and the latter mean laisses that describe an incremental succession of an event through formulaic repetition. These techniques are not exactly lacking in the other two poems, but in Roland they are executed more dramatically. If one is able to get over chronological prejudices (or withstand from comparisons to Lancelot’s rolling charge towards the castle in the Pythons’ Holy Grail), the effect of the similaires is very stark: an action is consolidated by successive reenactments, gaining in speed and alarm through every repetition. This would not be easy to carry out with normal prose, since the way the different reenactments contradict each other chronologically would have to be reconciled, whereas if a certain scene is played three times in a row with some variation, without the characters’ consciousness of the repetition, the scene becomes embued with a strong sense of urgency. As for the parallèles, their effect is more simple, since they add a sturdy crescendo movement to an action of consequence.

I am quite happy that the translators of my edition stuck with the parataxis in their translations, since it was precisely this element, lauded by Erich Auerbach for its sense of immediacy and how it contributes to making the laisses seem almost independent, that made me want to read the work now. Another effect that such frequent use of parataxis (or even simply placing independent clauses one after another) has is that they make the upright phrases and lexicon of the French knights stand out. The knights say things that we wouldn’t dream of using in our times without a heavy coating of irony. Take Charlemagne for example: “As you well know, I am in the right against the pagans.” When the knights express their feelings, the feelings appear unadulterated by ulterior motives. They state what they want to say, and what they want to say is all they wish to say on the subject. Finally, the parataxis makes various scenes stand out in stronger relief—something that most likely worked wonders by the campfire.

The paratactical uprighteousness does mislead the reader, however, if they think they are in for a story with cool-headed judgements and moral unambiguity. All three poems have their main causes in the rashness of the characters: Roland wants to get his stepfather killed by sending him off to Saragossa, which in turn is the catalyst for the stepfather’s treachery and the subsequent deaths of Roland and the twelve peers. Furthermore, Roland refuses to blow his horn for help despite Oliver’s injunctions, and I’m sure there’s something to be said about Charlemagne leaving all his twelve peers behind in the rearguard, while he initially was against sending even one of them to negotiate with the Saragossan king. In Daurel and Beton, the backstabbing Guy could have been stopped, if Bovis had believed his wife, if Charlemagne had refused Guy’s bribe and if on the whole people had been less trusting of villains. In Charlemagne’s Journey, it is the Gallic tradition of loud, wine-addled boasting that lands the Emperor and his entourage in the bisque.

These examples should already shed light on the moral unambiguity I mentioned, but I also want to point out how the Muslims were portrayed. In Roland, they were mostly vile people in the wrong, who worshipped Mohammad, Tervagant and Apollo (and once Jupiter), but it was also stated that some of them could have easily been virtuous knights, had they only been Christian. This can absolutely be seen as black and white, but methinks I detect a hint of grisaille: some of the Muslims already clearly had commendable qualities that were held in great esteem at the time. Since not all Christian get to go to heaven (see Ganelon), the matter of conversion is not the sole deciding factor: one also needs inner qualities, and these can be received even by pagans. (It also helps if Charlemagne has an amorous eye on you). In Daurel and Beton, the pagans were portrayed in a much more favourable light, and Daurel actually escapes to Babylon to shelter himself from the horrid Guy. He finds shelter at the emir’s and brings up Beton in pagan surroundings, yet this does not impair his upbringing in the least—nor have the pagans any evil intentions towards either. Furthermore, when the daughter of the emir is baptised, she gets to keep her own name—something that did not happen in Roland.

To focus more on Daurel and Beton, I must say I was shocked by the violence of it. Roland should have prepared me for it—after all, it has people cleft in twain on horseback, a hundred thousand knights swooning at the sight of Charlemagne tearing at his beard, and one of the most grotesque descriptions of a horn blow in literature—but I was still taken aback.

You know how in the Greek stories and in the Bible, grieving is very palpable in its physicality? They beat their breasts, tear at their clothes and cast dust on their heads. Well, the medievals upped the ante. They “tear at their faces and pull their hair out”, they are “ripping their clothes to shreds” with “many worthy ladies with faces bloody from scratching”. Lady Ermenjart even goes as far as to rips “chunks from her delicate flesh”. And as for the sadistic side of the tale, two scenes come to mind in particular. The first one is the torture scene of Lady Aicelina, where she is lashed on the breasts “until a hundred spines are embedded in her flesh: blood and milk are running together down her body.” The second one is the scene where Guy smashes the putative infant Beton against a pillar. (Nice creatural elements, right Auerbach?)

But for all the shock, I do not think these scenes were somehow unwarranted or merely ridiculously over the top. They were crafted rather skillfully, serving to paint a very daemonic picture of the treacherous Guy. At the same time, the scenes of sorrow heightened the pathos that would otherwise have been swallowed by the continuous chain of fainting. In the stage of lofty sentiments, a cruel stab is sometimes needed to create vivid scenes, and here they worked marvellously. See this very sensory scene for instance, depicting Charlemagne’s reaction to the news on Bovis’ death:


On hearing this, the king goes out of his mind:
He punches the air, considers himself to be cursed.
A wave of sorrow has spread throughout the court,
And Duke of Roland has rent his clothes entirely.


After the initial burst of laughter caused by Roland’s sudden nakedness, one can go back to the start of this excerpt and begin to appreciate the graphic quality of this scene. A punch into the air and an oath of despair cause a wave a sorrow to radiate from Charlemagne, leaving the others in a devastated state. However, this effect is deliciously complicated by Charlemagne’s alacrity in thrusting grief aside in return for Guy’s bribe. Quite the literary oh-well-can’t-be-helped.
I simply wish we could have got the complete version of this tale, since the manuscript ends precisely where things would have got extremely interesting: Beton’s revenge towards Charlemagne.

As for Charlemagne’s Journey, I have little to say on it. It was an enjoyable romp in a way, but the medieval style gave it a strange mixture of seriousness, and one never quite knew where one was standing. I think it was ultimately intended to paint Charlemagne with a bad brush, since the entire action of the poem is instigated by Charlemagne’s utter shallowness. He puts on his crown and asks, whether there ever was a more fitting person to wear a crown, and his wife answers, quite rashly, King Hugo of Constantinople. This causes Charlemagne, after the initial death threats, to dress him and his entourage as pilgrims and to travel to the holy city to measure out his kingly accessory. As writing out plots is not my metier, I’ll refrain from doing it, but let’s just say that Jesus saving Charlemagne’s skin by allowing his impossible boasts to be executed is one of the most chortlesome things I’ve come across in medieval literature.

[Gary · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a great poem, I did not know what I was missing.

Loved it.

[Lucinda Kinsinger · Rating 3 out of 5]

Quite violent, full of heroic figures, which is not usually my style. But I enjoyed it for its historicity and for the fact that its heroes were so obviously flawed and made bad choices which they had to pay for...a precursor to good literature everywhere. Also enjoyed the elements of humor in "Charlemagne's Journey."

[Sarah Cook · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some weird translation choices...

[Matthew Jacobs · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a very famous epic poem from Medieval France, sometimes even called the “National Epic” of France. But in reading it… I have no idea why. I wouldn’t call it a good story that I’d recommend. The basics of the story itself were interesting: Charlemagne’s Army, in returning to France from the wars in Muslim Spain, has the hero Roland and his peers guarding them in the rear. They are attacked by the Muslim forces, and most of the story is Roland and his group’s heroic last stand to protect the rest of Charlemagne’s army. So it’s a heroic last stand story, similar to 300. What’s not to like about that? Basically, the portrayal of Muslims and non-Europeans is just terribly hateful. Distractingly so. And it’s often blatantly racist. On top of that: the heroic feats of the main characters become just unrealistic, almost like superheroes. Overall, I wouldn’t recommend this. El Cid, a similar epic poem from medieval Spain, has a much more developed, respectful, and just interesting take on this subject matter.

Also, this translation felt very awkward and un-poetic. It’s difficult to translate poetry, but I have seen it done much better than this.

Would still recommend reading this for purely historical pursuits, however. If someone desires to look into the literature (good and bad) of the medieval era, this is still a very significant text.

[Michael Dennis · Rating 4 out of 5]

I rather enjoyed all three of the poems about the court of Charlemagne for their active narrative and somewhat otherworldliness. After hundreds of years the meaning of some of the actions are obscure. I enjoyed the non-subtle uses of “traitor” and “renegade” when meeting a character for the first time, long before they prove those words to be true.

[ken · Rating 4 out of 5]

more so 3.5. a whole lot of men kissing men on cheeks and necks and beards in here. and a lot of proclaiming, “i’ll never love another one like i love [my bro]” and then you remember women were not seen as people back then, so i guess this is ok.

but still. nice to finally know where some mythical weapons came from (durendal)

[ThymeOperator · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Song of Roland itself was engrossing and completely over the top.

Daurel and Beton was really upsetting in places. I was fine with the battle violence in Roland (it was so extreme and often impossible that I laughed), but Daurel contains graphic infanticide and suicide.

Charlemagne's Journey was hilarious.

[Brantley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Somehow I had never read the Song of Roland. After you get over the funny mediaeval turns of phrase and the repeated epithets that remind one of ancient epics, you settle in for a pretty fun story of Christians versus Saracens.

[Emma Foley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Classic medieval epic poem!

[Bill Stutzman · Rating 4 out of 5]

Classic epic, nicely rendered.

[reese · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.88, (just the song of roland)

[Jim · Rating 4 out of 5]

While reading the Introduction to this book - informative and smart, as OWC editions always are - I found it interesting that scholars admit 'The Song of Roland' differed in presentation and content, depending on oral or written transmission. And while there would have been varying versions of the song(s), by committing it to writing a greater cohesiveness was achieved. Even so, this cohesiveness is understood by scholars as more of an invention or construction of a distinctly authoritative French epic than as a willingness to accurately textualize the songs themselves. As a historical document, 'The Song of Roland' is part of 'The Matter of France', an intriguing name for the body of literature and legendary material associated with the history of France, and Charlemagne, et al, in particular. It has been generally agreed by academics that the Roland story had been crafted over time from many sources, these sources were eventually sorted and written down by a poet around the time of the First Crusade. Still meant foremost to be spoken/sung, considerations were made as to the oral stylistics to enhance its reception, remembering, and retelling. The discovery of the ‘original’ text in 1835 began a debate among traditionalists and individualists as to whether ‘Roland’ was crafted from the non-corporeal “spirit of France” (traditionalists), or the work of the first great poet of French letters (individualists)? The argument was fierce, and tied to the rise of the nation-state in Europe in the19th century, as countries strove to craft their cultural and political origin stories. As with many historical texts, the criticism is rather vast and multivalent, and probably fascinating, though I have yet to go that route, yet. I did find a journal article* discussing the meaning/usage of the trio of letters - AOI - found at the end of some lines of the ‘Roland’ text. Truly amazing stuff, to me anyway. I have to say I love literary scholarship. A lot. Regardless how one analyzes ‘Roland’s inherent themes, there is little argument about the mesmerizing style, power, and emotion of the poetry. As lively as they are to read, it is easy to understand how the chansons would have been significantly more impressive as vocal presentations.
Throughout, we get common stylistic themes: Repetition (for emphasis, for different perspectives, for remembrance), Parallelism (between scenes, characters, ideals), and Parataxis (use of short sentences lacking conjunctions, or where two differing ideas/images are juxtaposed without making their connection clear). The last, parataxis, is especially effective for spoken poetry and song and the text of ‘Roland’ lends itself well to this technique.

As an example of the chanson de geste, ‘Roland’ exemplifies all three meanings of geste in Old French: that being gesture/action (the fighting), kin-group (Charlemagne and his relations, army), and story/legend (Roland .

Being a tale of battle, we get many, gore-filled descriptions of fighting, killing, and dismembering/decapitation. Quite visceral. Being a tale of Charlemagne, we get the expected invocation of divine assistance to defeat the pagan (Moslem, Moor, Spanish, African, basically anyone non-White European and christian). Being a tale of knights, we get the usual talk of valor, virtue, brotherhood, righteousness, and moral correctness. Being a tale of national pride, there is plenty of stress on treachery, treason, honor, shame, pride, and victory.

As a contrast to the idealized figure of Charlemagne in ‘Roland’, the other two poems in this book - ’Daurel and Beton’ (original manuscript incomplete) and ‘Charlemagne’s Journey to Jerusalem and Constantinople’ - show Charlemagne as either corrupt (the former) or comic (the latter). Their inclusion is meant to show the variety of the chansons as a literary type, with ‘Roland’ being but one example, and of the different textual approaches to epic idealization of historical figures, such as Charlemagne. As with 'Roland', there is academic argument as to whether either of these chansons were meant to be taken seriously (were known satires), had some symbolic meaning for the times, or was seen as a commentary on French history, politics, or Charlemagne in particular. There form and style are much the same as 'Roland' yet still fun to read.

* https://www.jstor.org/stable/458332

[Taylor's♡Shelf · Rating 5 out of 5]

Apparently whoever wrote this poem believed the Saracens to be made of butter, as I believe that is the only way to cut through someone length-wise from their helmet to the spine of their mount in one stroke.

Also, Guy did not die violently enough.

[Joshua · Rating 4 out of 5]

I gave this four stars because I didn't really dig this translation as much as the Dorothy L. Sayers one. Maybe it's more accurate. I couldn't say, not speaking Old French, but this one felt awkward at times and I didn't care for some of the more modern phrasings.

[Elena · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had to read this for school. The language is challenging and very gory.

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 stars. Review to come

[Joseph Shenk · Rating 4 out of 5]

Definitely reminded me of the Illiad. It seems likely that the author drew inspiration from the Illiad in crafting this book.

[Reagan Vernon · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a great window into the Carolingian worldview.