CI

And Engelier of Bordeaux, the Gascon, came amain.
He spurred the charger onwards, he loosed the bridle-rein.
Escremis of Valtierra he galloped in to slay.
He clove the shield of the Paynim that the cantels fell away.
Out of the heathen hauberk the steel rings did he wrest.
Between the man's two shoulders he stabbed him through the breast.
And dead out of the saddle he hurled him with the spear.
Thereon aloud he shouted: " Ye all shall perish here! "

CII

And Othon smote a Paynim, and Estorgant he hight.
Upon the forepart of the shield on the leather did he smite,
That he cut away the colors, the vermilion and the white.
The steel plates of the hauberk he rended them and tore.
Right through the Paynim's body the cutting spear he bore.
Down from the running charger he struck the villain dead.
And he spake: " There was no warrant 'gainst death to stand thy stead. "

CIII

And Berenger, moreover, Estramaris smote he;
He broke his shield, he shattered the hauberk utterly.
So through the heart of the Paynim the mighty spear he sped
That amid a thousand Saracens he struck the fellow dead.
Of the twelve peers of the Paynims now ten good men are slain
Alive of all that fellowship but two of them remain.
And Cornubel and Margaris the Marquis are the twain.

CIV

And Margaris the Marquis was a very stalwart knight.
Stalwart he was and beautiful and swift of foot and light.
Spurring 'gainst Olivier, his way to smite him did he hold.
He shattered all the target 'neath the buckle of pure gold.
Along the flank of the good Frank he thrust the battle-spear.
But by God's aid he hurt not the side of Olivier.
For the great lance but grazed him, nor dealt him any wound,
And Margaris unhindered went beyond him with a bound.
And to summon up his henchmen upon his horn did sound.

CV

Marvellous is the battle and all men fight the fray.
And from it the Count Roland no whit he kept away.
With the lance he fought while in his hand the spear-shaft did remain.
But fifteen strokes have wrenched it and broken it in twain.
Then forth he drew great Durendal, the naked goodly glaive.
He spurred the steed; to slay him at Cornubel he drave.
He shattered all the helmet where the carbuncles shone fair.
He clave through the white linen cap and through the mighty hair,
And through his eyes and visage, and through the hauberk white
With little links, to the forking of the body did he smite.
And right through the rich saddle of beaten gold wrought well,
And the great steed thereunder, the blade of Roland fell.
It broke the back of the charger. Where was no joint did it pass.
There Roland struck dead Cornubel on the thick growing grass.
After he said:
" Thou coward, an ill-come man wast thou.
No succor by Mahomet shall be granted to thee now.
And such a very villain shall win no war to-day. "

CVI

Count Roland on the charger through the battle made his way,
And Durendal that cut and thrust so well in hand he bore.
In that hour of those Saracens he made a slaughter sore.
Ah! but to see him hurling the slain upon the slain,
And the clear blood a-flowing that spouted on the plain!
And bloody was his hauberk, and his arms were steeped in blood.
Red were the neck and shoulders of the charger great and good.
Upon the Paynims Olivier no whit was slow to fall.
The twelve peers in that battle deserved no blame at all.
And all the French, moreover, came charging on to slay.
There many Paynims perished, or in terror swooned away.
Said Turpin then: " Our chivalry like men the fight maintain. "
He cried the great cry of Mountjoy the cry of Charlemagne.

CVII

Up and thorough the battle went riding Olivier.
Split was his lance. He carried but a truncheon of the spear.
He rode against a Paynim, and Malsaron he hight.
Through the golden-flowered helmet a great stroke did he smite.
Both of his eyes from the man's head Lord Olivier did beat.
The brains of the smitten Paynim fell down unto his feet.
With Malsaron he overthrew seven hundred of his men.
And Turgis and Estorgos the twain he slaughtered then.
The lance-haft to his hand-grasp was splintered and to-broke.
" What dost thou, my companion? " So the Count Roland spoke,
" In such a bitter battle for a truncheon have no care.
The sharp steel and the iron have richer value there.
Where is the great sword Haulteclair that thou wast wont to hold,
Whose pommel is of crystal and the great hilt all of gold? "
And Olivier gave answer: " I could not draw it indeed
To smite within the battle, too eager was my need. "

CVIII

And thereupon Lord Olivier the goodly war-sword drew,
Even as his comrade Roland had besought him so to do,
And like to a good cavalier held it in all men's sight.
On Justin of Val-Ferree the Paynim did he smite.
And the head of that same Paynim in pieces twain he smote,
And clove him through the body and the embroidered coat.
And right through the good saddle set with fair gold and fine
Swiftly the stroke went downwards and clove the horse's spine.
Before him dead upon the field the man he hath o'erthrown.
Said Roland:
" Thee hereafter for my brother will I own.
King Charlemagne aye loves us for such buffets with the brand. "
Now was the war-shout of Mountjoy cried out on every hand.

CIX

On the good charger Sorrel was Gerin the chevalier,
And Gerier his comrade on Swifter-than-the-Deer.
They slacked the rein together and spurred the horses well
And rode out to do battle with the Paynim Timosel.
On the shield smote one. The other his hauberk struck amain.
The two spears in his body were broken right in twain.
And of myself I know not, nor e'er did hear men say,
Which of the two good heroes was swiftest on that day.
And thither Count Espreveris the son of Borel drew.
Him, Engelier of Bordeaux in the battle overthrew.
And Turpin the Archbishop there slaughtered Siglorel,
The enchanter who already had descended into Hell.
There Jupiter had brought him by wicked glamourie.
Said Turpin the Archbishop: " A strong villain was he. "
And Roland spake in answer:
" The knave is vanquished here.
Beautiful are such gallant strokes, my brother Olivier. "

CX

But the battle in the meanwhile in bitter guise outbroke.
The Frenchmen and the Paynims smote many a wondrous stroke.
And some came on right fiercely; on their ward the others stood.
What store of spears were shattered and drenched in the blood!
How many gonfalons and flags were tattered in the fray.
How many gallant Frenchmen gave up their youth that day.
No more shall they see their mothers. Their wives they will not see.
Nor the French beyond the passes that await them eagerly.
King Charlemagne he weeps and moans. Hath his woe any worth?
They get thereby no succor. When Ganelon went forth
To sell in Saragossa his kindred for his gain,
He did most evil service to the men of Charlemagne.
But life and limb thereafter of the man went all to wreck.
In the court of Aix was he condemned. They hanged him by the neck.
And thirty of his kinsmen perished with him thereby
That had not any deeming how they were doomed to die.

CXI

Marvellous waxed the battle with anguish heavy-fraught
And Olivier and Roland exceeding well they fought.
From the hand of the Archbishop a thousand strokes did fall;
Nor any whit were slothful the twelve peers one and all.
And all of the French army struck into the mellay.
By hundreds and by thousands the Paynims fell that day.
'Gainst death he had no warrant who fled not thence away
And, would he not or would he, his life was given o'er.
All of their fairest armor the Franks lost in the war.
Their fathers and their kinsmen they will never see again,
Nor him who waits beyond the gates, the Emperor Charlemagne.
In France there was a tempest enough to make one quail.
Along the storm-cloud hasted with the thunder and the gale.
The rain and hail unmeasured beat fiercely from aloft;
And the thunder in its fury rattled many a time and oft.
And all the land was shaken by an earthquake verily
From Rheims unto Saint Michael-of-the-Peril-of-the-Sea,
And from the Port of Wissant unto Besançon the town
There was not any city whose bulwarks fell not down.
And at the height of noon-tide great darkness came on high;
There was no light nor clearness but for breaking of the sky.
All were in dread and many said:
" It is the day of doom.
The term of all our cycle and the end of time is come. "
The truth they understood not; no verity they spake.
It was sorrow for the paladin, and woe for Roland's sake.

CXII

The Franks have fought the battle with a great heart and strong,
And the Paynim knights have fallen by thousands in the throng.
Out of an hundred thousand are left but thousands two.
Said Turpin:
" Our good cavaliers are gallant men to do.
Is no king under heaven has better in his ranks. "
This is the saying written in the deed-book of the Franks,
That the vassals of the Emperor are brave men in the fight.
Through the field they sought their comrades on the left and on the right.
And the tears of grief and tenderness out of their eyes did start
For love of their good kinsmen that were dear unto the heart.
And with a great host Marsile the King before them stands.

CXIIa

I wot the great Count Roland is a good knight of his hands.
And the twelve peers and Olivier great worship is their due.
The Paynims by their power in the fight they overthrew.
Of an hundred thousand homewards never a soldier came
Save for a single Paynim. Margaris was his name.
And though he fled, unto him shame or reproach was none.
His body bore him witness of the deeds that he had done.
Four lances had he in him. He turned back into Spain.
The matter of the battle to Marsile he made plain.

CXIIb

Alone hath the Count Margaris got safely from the field.
His spear was broken in pieces, and pierced was his shield,
And underneath the buckler but half a foot was left.
And as for his good helmet in pieces it was cleft.
And, moreover, of his hauberk all broken was the chain.
His good steel blade was ruddy with a vermilion stain.
And pierced was his body with the strokes of four strong spears.
Back he came from the battle where the buffets were so fierce.
God! what a baron had he been, had he been christened well.
Unto the Paynim Marsile those tidings did he tell.
Swiftly before the King he knelt and to him did he say:
" To horse, my lord. The Franks of France are weary from the fray
And from striking down our henchmen with the great strokes of war.
They have lost the spears and bucklers that in the fight they bore;
And half of all their army is slaughtered in the fight.
And they that yet are living are found in sorry plight.
The most are wounded and ruddy with the blood themselves have shed;
And they have not any weapons against us to make head.
Lightly mayst thou avenge us. And now my master know
The army of King Charlemagne is ripe for overthrow. "
And to Roland and to Olivier the host of Frenchmen prayed:
" Let the twelve peers together come now unto our aid. "
And Turpin the Archbishop first of all his answer gave:
" Ye men of God I pray you be of good heart and brave.
To-day upon your foreheads the crowns of God shall lie.
And Paradise the Holy is your portion now for aye. "
Among the host of Frenchmen now was grief and sorrow sad.
They wept in one another's arms for the friendship that they had.
In charity they kissed. " Ye knights, to horse and ride along, "
Cried Roland, " Marsile cometh an hundred thousand strong! "

CXIII

And down amid a valley in haste King Marsile sped.
The army he had gathered along with him he led.
In twenty stricken columns their number had he told.
Blazing were all their helmets with precious stones and gold.
Pennants and spears and bucklers and broidered coats had they
And seven thousand war-horns were bellowing for the fray.
The bruit and the tumult through the land went far and near.
Said Roland:
" My good comrade and brother Olivier,
Count Ganelon, the traitor, hath sworn to work our death.
No longer may be hidden the breaking of his faith.
But certainly the Emperor shall well avenge the wrong.
And we will have a battle most terrible and strong.
There is no man that liveth that ever saw the like.
Therein with the blade Durendal the great strokes will I strike.
Fall on, my good companion, with Haulteclair the brand.
Well, heretofore, the blades we bore in many and many a land.
And we have won together of battles such a throng.
Let them hereafter never sing of us an evil song. "

CXIV

When the Franks looked on the heathen how fast they came amain
And how in every quarter they swarmed upon the plain,
Often then unto Roland and Olivier they prayed,
And the twelve peers, moreover, that they should stand their aid
And Turpin the Archbishop there made his meaning clear:
" Ye gallant knights, I pray you that ye have no coward fear
In God's name I beseech it. Turn not to flee away.
Let no brave man hereafter sing of you an evil lay.
Better it is in battle like a brave man to fall.
And this day it is certain we shall perish one and all.
After this day our fortune no longer is to live.
But for one thing unto you my warrant will I give.
For Holy Paradise is yours. With the Saints ye there shall dwell. "
When the Franks heard the Bishop's word it cheered them wondrous well.
There was not any Frenchman of them that stood about
But forthwith with a mighty voice Mountjoy began to shout.

CXIVa

Unto the worst of princes Marsile the King was peer.
He said unto the Paynims:
" Lordings, now hark and hear.
This Frank, the Marquis Roland, is a man of might and main.
Who will beat him in the battle must suffer grievous pain.
And Roland in two battles ye cannot overthrow.
But thrice, if it be your pleasure, against him will we go.
And ten of my strong columns against the French shall ride.
The other ten, however, shall tarry at my side.
The glory of King Charlemagne this day shall ruined be.
And France hurled into ruin, moreover, shall ye see. "
Then an embroidered banner he gave unto Grandoign
To lead his men against the Franks that battle they might join.
And therewithal was given to Grandoign the whole command.

CXIVb

To a low hill went Marsile and there he took his stand.
And Grandoign straight departed with all his company.
Down he rode through the valley as swiftly as might be.
His gonfalon was fastened with three fair nails of gold.
He shouted as he galloped:
" To horse, ye barons bold! "
And that it might be fairer yet a thousand trumpets blew.
" O Father God, " the Frenchmen said,
" What deed is now to do?
Surely we saw Count Ganelon upon an evil day.
And by his wicked treason he has bartered us away.
What ho! the twelve companions! come now unto our aid! "
And first Archbishop Turpin gave answer there and said:
" Good knights, to-day great honor unto you shall be given.
God will give you crowns and flowers amid the Saints of Heaven.
But there is not any coward that shall enter into rest. "
To him the Franks made answer:
" We will do thy whole behest.
We will not fear for death at all. "
With the good golden spurs
They spurred away to battle against those dastard curs.
And they shouted all together: " Mountjoy for Charlemagne! "

CXIVc

Marsile the king, divided all of his host in twain.
Ten columns kept he with him and ten rode out to war.
A thousand trumpets thundered and a man might hear them far.
Said the Franks:
" God! what a slaughter shall we suffer in this fray!
Ye twelve good peers, what deem you shall become of us this day? "
Thereto Archbishop Turpin spake in answer to this end:
" Good cavaliers, now greatly has God become your friend.
This day shall ye be crowned with crowns and lovely flowers likewise,
This day ye shall have places in the peace of Paradise.
But never shall the cowards have any entry there. "
Said the Franks:
" We will not fail you in anything whate'er.
Never to God were it pleasing that we should be gainsaid.
With our full strength on the foemen this battle shall be made.
Few men we are, but hardy. "
They spurred the knaves to slay
And Saracen and Frenchman slashed into the mellay.

CXV

There was of Saragossa a Saracen at hand.
The half of all the city it was his fief and land.
'Twas Climborin who was not a good knight of his word.
'Twas he who with Count Ganelon had made a fast accord
That he should sell Count Roland and all his host of men.
Count Ganelon upon the mouth of friendship kissed he then,
And gave to him a carbuncle and therewithal his helm.
And he boasted there the Greater Land in shame to overwhelm.
From Charlemagne would he take away the royal crown by might.
He sate upon the charger that Barbamuche was hight:
And swifter than a swallow or a falcon was the steed.
He loosed the rein. He spurred him to the utmost of his speed.
Towards Engelier of Gascony he galloped o'er the field.
No whit might save the Frenchmen his hauberk or his shield.
He thrust into the body the iron of the spear
So well that out behind him all of the point was clear.
With the swift lance upon the field he laid the dead man low.
And after cried:
" These Frenchmen are good to overthrow.
Strike in! strike in! ye Saracens, and batter in their ranks. "
" God! what sorrow for the hero! " was the cry among the Franks.

CXVI

And thereupon Count Roland to Olivier he said:
" Engelier, lord companion, is already smitten dead.
We have not in the army a braver man than he. "
Said Olivier: " To venge him God grant it unto me. "
Forthwith he spurred the charger with the golden spurs so good,
And he hove up the sword Haulteclair all ruddy with the blood.
And there of his good courage he rode to smite him well.
His stroke hath made the Paynim reel; down from the steed he fell.
And thence away his spirit the adversary bore;
Thereafter the Duke Alphaien he slaughtered in the war.
The brow of Escababi he clove it in his course,
And seven Arabs also he beat them from the horse.
Never again those seven men to war will take the path.
Said Roland:
" My companion is greatly up in wrath.
Beside me in the battle much honor now he hath.
We are dearer unto Charlemagne for such buffets as he smites. "
With a loud voice he shouted, " Strike into it, my knights! "

CXVII

Now came Valdabron the Paynim that for his chivalry
Marsile bred up. Four hundred ships were his upon the sea.
Was no sailor of his thieving but had sore cause to complain.
Jerusalem, the city, by treason had he ta'en.
The temple of King Solomon he plundered through and through.
The Patriarch, moreover, before the font he slew.
And Valdabron with Ganelon himself by oath had bound.
And a good sword he gave him and therewith a thousand pound.
There he sate in the saddle on Gradamont his horse.
Swifter than any falcon was that charger in his course.
He spurred right well. To fell him at Samson did he ride
That was a duke among the French, and a gallant man beside.
He shattered all the buckler, through the hauberk did he shear.
He thrust into the body the pennant of the spear.
With the swift lance from the saddle he smote the hero dead.
" Knaves! ye shall die, " with a great cry unto the French he said,
" This day an evil succor shall ye get from Charlemagne.
Paynims, strike in, and lightly this battle will we gain. "
Said the Franks: " God! for the baron how bitter is our woe. "

CXVIII

When Roland saw Duke Samson slain in the over-throw,
Then he suffered such a sorrow as was never known to man.
He spurred the steed beneath him till its uttermost it ran;
And the sword worth more than the fine gold, even Durendal he bare.
Hard as he might he rode to smite against that Paynim there
A high stroke over his helmet of gold with the gems a-row.
He clove the head and the hauberk and the body with that blow,
And the good selle, that jewels and gold work did not lack,
Unto the back of the charger and deep into the back.
Whether ye praise or blame him, the twain there smote he dead.
" A mighty stroke against us was that stroke, " the Paynims said.
" Ah! ever shall I hate you, " shouted Roland through their throng,
" Upon your side is naught but pride and the bitterness of wrong. "

CXIX

An African of Africa into that battle came.
He was the son of Malcud; Malquidant was his name.
All of the gold fair beaten was the armour he had on.
Brighter than all the others was he flashing in the sun.
And he rode Lost-Leap, the charger with whom no beast could race.
To smite the shield of Anseis he galloped out apace.
The red and blue he pierced it, and the hauberk-plates he broke.
He thrust both wood and iron through the body with the stroke.
With the swift lance Lord Anseis down on the field he bore.
The Count is dead. His season and his time of life are o'er.
Said all the Franks, " Good baron, evil hap is on thy name. "

CXX

Then spurring on his charger Archbishop Turpin came.
A priest the like of Turpin sang never Mass before.
That wrought with his own body such mighty deeds of war.
He said unto the Paynim:
" God's curse now fall on thee.
Thou hast slaughtered my good comrade and sore it irketh me. "
He spurred the steed and smote the wretch on the Toledo shield
So that dead on the green herbage he struck him in the field.
Now the son of Capuel the King of Cappadocia came
From the army of the heathen, and Grandoign was his name.
He sate upon the charger that Marmorie was hight,
A steed that was far fleeter than any bird in flight.
He spurred the charger with the spurs. He slacked the bridle-rein,
He rode to fight with Gerin with all his might and main.
He rent the scarlet buckler with a great stroke in the fray;
Thereafter all his hauberk he tore and shore away.
He thrust into the body his azure battle-flag,
And dead he struck Count Gerin beside a mighty crag.
And his companion Gerier he likewise overthrew.
Guy of Saint Anton also, and Berenger he slew.
Then forth to fell Count Austore through the battle hastened he,
Valentia on the Rhone that held as his own seignory.
He smote him dead. The Paynims were joyful one and all.
Said the Franks to one another: " How fast our heroes fall! "