CXXII

A red sword had Count Roland. What lament the Franks did make
He hearkened, and he sorrowed till his heart was like to break.
He said unto the Paynim:
" God's curse fall on thee here!
Thou hast slaughtered my companion. The thing shall cost thee dear. "
He spurred the charger onwards that slackened not his pace.
Whosoe'er shall lose the battle the twain are face to face.

CXXIII

Grandoign was stark and valiant and leal and keen to fight.
He came on Roland in his way. He knew him at the sight,
Though never had he seen him, because of his proud glance,
By his look and his gentle body, and by his countenance.
He could not hide his terror and had fled, but naught availed,
For Roland with such fury the infidel assailed
That even through the nasal all of the helm was rent.
The stroke went down right through the crown. Unto the teeth it went.
Through the body and the hauberk of the mail the buffet flew.
On the golden selle the pommel of silver it cut through,
And deep into the horse's back the good sword sank amain.
And horse and man upon the field fell cloven right in twain.
There rose among the Saracens a bitter wailing yell.
Then said the Franks: " Our champion acquits him wondrous well. "

CXXIV

Marvellous was the battle and furious was the fight.
Fiercely the Franks struck into it in their anger and their might.
They clove right through the Paynims, through back and side and hand,
Through the garments of the living flesh with the keen slashing brand.
And over the green grasses the blood went running clear.
Quoth the Saracens:
" No longer can we bear the battle here.
Mahomet! on the Greater-Land black may thy curses fall,
For now before the nations her folk are best of all. "
There was no man among them King Marsile but implored.
" Quickly to us that are in need! ride to our aid, our lord! "

CXXV

O wondrous is the battle, and terrible the tide.
The Franks with the brown-flashing spears hard into it they ride.
The sorrow of the people there lightly might you view.
So many slain lay in their blood, deep smitten through and through
And outstretched or face downward on all sides were the dead.
Against the Franks the heathen no longer might make head.
And, would they not or would they, they turned their backs in flight.
And all the Franks pursued them in their strength of living might.

CXXVa

Roland wrought in the battle like a good knight and strong,
And the Franks urged their horses most gallantly along.
At gallop and hand-gallop fled the Paynims as they could.
The Franks came on. Their bodies are stained with crimson blood.
Twisted and bent and broken are the war-swords in the hand.
They have nought save the war-horns the foemen to withstand.
Then they thought upon the trumpets and the great horns beside,
And he who had one by him was filled with strength and pride.
With the horns the brows and bodies and the hands and feet they clave.
Then said full many a Saracen:
" These French are over brave.
There cometh now upon us the slaughter and the wrack. "
They left the field behind them. On us they turned their back.
Great buffets with the war-horns the Frenchmen smote alway;
Even before King Marsile the line of dead men lay.

CXXVI

Marsile saw how in the slaughter his men were over-thrown.
His clarions and trumpets, he caused then to be blown.
Then out he rode to battle with his army of the ban.
Forth rode before a Saracen. Abysmus was the man.
There was not in that army a greater knave than he.
Vile crimes had he committed and filthy felony.
And of God, the Son of Mary, he trusted not the grace.
And blacker than the melted pitch was that Paynim in the face.
And better loved he treason and murder than to hold
At his pleasure all the treasure of the Galician gold.
Never had man beheld him to jest and laugh aloud.
He was a man of courage and furiousness uncowed.
Unto the foul King Marsile was he very dear therefore.
To rally men in battle the Dragon aye he bore.
And Turpin the Archbishop would never love that wight.
When he had looked upon him, he yearned the man to smite.
Under his breath the Bishop saith to himself quietly:
" A mighty heretic I deem this Saracen to be.
Better die than make no effort the villain here to slay.
Cowards to love and cowardice has never been my way. "

CXXVII

Thereat Archbishop Turpin himself began the fray.
He sate upon a charger that from Grossail he had ta'en.
A king was he that Turpin in the Danish march had slain.
He was a coursing charger and swift to ride along.
His hoofs were seemly shapen. His legs were smooth and strong.
In the croup the steed was stalwart and narrow in the thigh;
His flanks were long and mighty; his back was very high.
White was his tail, and yellow from his neck the mane did fall,
And tawny was his frontlet, and his ears were fine and small.
There was no beast beneath the skies against him that could run,
And Turpin of his chivalry he spurred the courser on.
He slacked his hand on the bridle-rein and on the golden bit.
Until he smote Abysmus he waited not a whit.
To strike him on the wondrous shield against him did he bear,
Whereon was set a great array of precious stones and fair,
Amethyst, topaz, carbuncle, and crystal flaming clear.
They were given to Abysmus by Galafer the Emir.
(Galafer in Val-Metas from the fiend the jewels got)
But Turpin fell upon him and spared him not a jot.
After his stroke that buckler it was not worth a groat.
From side to side through the body Archbishop Turpin smote.
He struck him down. Said all the Franks:
" A gallant man is he.
Well enow with the Archbishop the Holy Cross will be. "

CXXVIII

" Now by your leave, lord comrade, " Roland said to Olivier:
" This Turpin the Archbishop is a gallant cavalier —
Under the sky upon the earth better is none to fight.
Well hath he learned in battle with pike and spear to smite. "
And Olivier gave answer: " Let us go unto his aid. "
And at the word the battle the Franks once more assayed.
Hard strokes, fierce thrusts the Christians bore, and agonies most drear.
But though thereby they perish they will sell their lives right dear.

CXXVIIIa

The Franks of France of weapons are in this hour bereft.
No more than seven hundred of the naked swords are left.
They smite and cleave the helmets that are so fair of sheen.
God! What a store of bucklers through the midst are smitten clean!
How many helms and hauberks broken in the field remain!
How many heads and hands and feet are smitten right in twain!
Said the Paynims:
" Lo, these Frenchmen they maim us everywhere
The man that fleeth not away of life hath little care. "
And right unto King Marsile the flyers held their way.
" Lord King, now give us succor, " unto him did they say.
When Marsile of his people the bitter cry had heard —
" Now Lord Apollo aid me, " even so he spake the word:
" Greater Land, by Mahomet mayst thou now be stripped and strown.
Thine army hath mine army in the battle overthrown.
The Emperor white-bearded, the great King Charlemagne,
Calabria and Apulia and Rome itself hath ta'en,
Likewise Constantinople and stalwart Saxony.
Better it were to perish than before the French to flee.
Strike, Paynims! let no Frenchman deem himself safe at last.
If Roland die, then Charlemagne shall lose a stronghold fast,
And if he die not, all our lives are lost and overpast. "

CXXVIIIb

Then stoutly with the lances fought those Paynims unashamed
They pierced through many bucklers with the great swords that flamed
They clove through many a helmet and many a hauberk strong.
The steel and iron together sang such a fearful song
That up into the heaven the sparks of fire flew;
And blood and brains a-flowing there lightly might you view.
And because of this Count Roland had great dole and heaviness,
As he looked on his good captains that died in their distress.
And thereon the Count remembered the land of France again,
And he thought upon his uncle the good King Charlemagne,
And a change came o'er his spirit that he could not stop or stay.

CXXVIIIc

Count Roland hurled into the press, nor ceased at all to slay.
Durendal the good warsword drawn in his hand he bore.
How many shields he shattered and pierced and clove in four!
How many hauberks did he burst and helms in pieces beat!
How many heads hath he cloven! How many hands and feet!
How many hundred Paynims on the field he killed in fight!
Nor was there any of them but thought himself a knight.

CXXVIIId

Olivier to the other side hath taken now the track.
To smite against the Paynims he ran in the attack.
And the good sword, even Haulteclair, he held it up on high.
Save Durendal, a better was not beneath the sky,
Which Roland wielded. Strongly within the fight he stood.
Unto the arms was he spattered with the vermilion blood.
" How gallant is he a vassal, " said the lord Olivier,
" Woe unto to us our friendship this day shall fail us here.
It shall go in heavy sorrow. We are lost to Charlemagne.
In France shall be such sorrow as shall never be again.
There will be many a gallant man his prayer for us will make.
In holy churches orisons shall be offered for our sake
That our spirits into Paradise at last may go their course. "
He loosed therewith the bridle-rein and onward spurred the horse.
Through the press he came to Roland. To each other did they call:
" Hither, comrade! I will fail thee not unless the first I fall. "

CXXIX

Ah! to see Roland lift the sword, and likewise Olivier!
But Turpin the Archbishop was fighting with a spear.
The number of the fallen lightly a man might tell —
In letters and in parchments is the matter written well.
The song saith more than thousands four of Saracens there fell.
Through four attacks the Franks bore up, but heaviness and pain
In the fifth fray overtook them. All the French knights were slain.
Of the host no more than sixty whom God hath spared are by;
But dearly will they sell their lives before they come to die.

CXXX

Count Roland saw the slaughter of his men on every side.
He turned him unto Olivier his comrade and he cried:
" God bless thee, lord companion. Seest thou dead on every hand
Our brave? Sore must we weep for France the sweet and lovely land.
For lack of her good barons evil will be her cheer.
Oh, Charlemagne, our King and friend, wherefore wast thou not here?
How may we send him tidings, my comrade Olivier? "
Said Olivier:
" I know not how the thing may come to be.
But rather would I perish than that shame should come on me. "

CXXXI

Said Roland:
" On the war-horn now will I blow amain
And if within the passes the King shall hear it plain,
That again with the French army he will come, I will be sworn. "
Olivier spake in answer:
" Thou wilt be held in scorn.
And a smirch and great dishonor on thy kinsmen would be cast.
That shame would be upon them as long as life should last.
When I gave thereto my counsel, then naught of it wouldst thou.
With my good will this matter thou shalt not compass now.
If thou blowest the horn, a deed thou dost the which no brave man may.
And already those two arms of thine, scarlet with blood are they. "
Thereto the Count gave answer, " Full fair strokes did I smite. "

CXXXII

And Roland said thereafter: " Most fearful is our fight.
I will blow a blast that haply will be heard of Charlemagne. "
" When I urged it, friend, " said Olivier, " To blow thou wouldst not deign.
If but the King were with us we had not suffered so.
There lies no blame upon them that have yonder fallen low.
But by my beard I swear it: If I again set eye
On Aude my gentle sister, in her arms thou shalt not lie. "

CXXXIII

Said Roland:
" Wherefore at me in anger dost thou chide? "
" 'Twas thine own doing, comrade, " Count Olivier replied,
" For courage in good counsel with folly has no part.
And judgment aye is better than foolishness of heart.
And because of this thy vanity, lo, now the French are slain,
And our good deeds for ever are lost to Charlemagne.
And hadst thou but believed me, the King had come before;
We had compassed in this battle the ending of the war;
And either slain or taken King Marsile now would be.
Ah, Roland, in thy hardihood an evil thing we see.
Thy service unto Charlemagne thou never more shalt pay.
Never shall be his like again until the Judgment Day.
Thou wilt perish. At the land of France shall men shoot out the lip.
And to-day, moreover, endeth our good companionship.
In woe we shall be parted or e'er come Vesper-tide. "

CXXXIV

Swiftly Turpin galloped to them when he had heard them chide.
Spurring with golden spurs his steed; and the twain did he chastise:
" O, thou my good Lord Roland, and Lord Olivier likewise,
Now by my God I pray you your wrath to put away,
For in no wise the war-horn may stand our stead to-day.
But ne'ertheless is it better thereon to blow the blast.
Thither will come King Charlemagne and avenge us at the last.
Never again the Spaniards light-hearted hence shall speed.
Here will our own dear Frenchmen dismount them from the steed.
Here will they find us stark and dead smitten with many a wound;
On biers upon the sumpter-beasts will they raise us from the ground:
They will mourn for us in pity and in sorrow, one and all,
And bury us together within the convent-wall.
Nor wolf nor hound shall devour us, nor wild boar on us feed. "
And Roland spake in answer: " Thou speakest well in deed. "

CXXXV

The mighty horn Count Roland hath put his lips unto.
He held it well between them, and with all his strength he blew.
And high are all the summits, and O the way is long,
But a full fifteen good leagues away they heard it echo strong.
And Charlemagne hath heard it, and his every knave and knight.
Said Charlemagne: " Our henchmen have fallen on some fight. "
But Ganelon unto him hath spoken in reply,
" Had any other said it thou wouldst take it for a lie. "

CXXXVI

Even so the Marquis Roland in agony and pain
And bitterness of sorrow blew on the horn amain.
Out of his mouth in a great spurt the clear blood gushing went.
Of his fair brow by the effort was the temple burst and rent.
Of the war-horn that he blew on the thunder was so great
That Charlemagne hath heard it within the mountain-gate.
Neimes the Duke hath hearkened it, and the Franks heard it plain.
" I hear the horn of Roland, " said the Emperor Charlemagne.
" And never would he blow it unless a fight were on. "
" There is no battle toward, " then answered Ganelon,
" But now thy hair is hoary and thy locks white as snow.
Thou seemest like unto a babe what time thou speakest so.
Certes! enough thou knowest how great is Roland's pride.
Strange is it God hath suffered him so long while to abide.
Without thine order Nobilis the city did he win.
There sallied out against him the Saracens therein.
Against Roland the good vassal they lifted up the hand.
He delivered them to slaughter with Durendal the brand.
And the blood from the green meadows he washed with water there.
He did the thing that it might seem more fitting and more fair.
For a lone hare the war-horn all the day long doth he wind.
He rideth jesting on ahead with all his peers behind.
Under sky is none that dareth meet Roland in the fray.
My Lord the King ride onward. For wherefore should we stay?
Ye may behold the Greater Land how far it is ahead. "

CXXXVII

Now the lips of the Count Roland with spurting blood were red,
He blew upon the war-horn in dolor and in pain.
And all the Frenchmen hearkened and the Emperor Charlemagne.
And the King spake:
" Yon war-horn it hath a mighty breath.
A hero bloweth in anguish. " Neimes in answer saith:
" I deem there is battle. Roland is mastered by some sleight.
This knave would trick thee. Cry thy cry and arm thee for the fight,
If to the gallant army succor may yet avail.
Here hast thou hearkened overlong how Roland tells the tale. "

CXXXVIII

The Emperor his war-horns forthwith he let them peal.
From the steeds the Franks dismounted and girded on the steel.
The hauberks and the helmets and the great swords of gold,
And splendid shields and lances heavy and strong they hold,
With the vermilion gonfalons, and the azure and the white.
There mounted on the chargers of the army every knight.
Hot-spurred they sped through the defile. To his fellow each man said:
" If we may look on Roland or ever he is dead,
Then may we with him lightly deal mighty strokes and strong. "
What profit in their courage? They have tarried overlong.

CXXXIX

At length the darkness lightened. The day was coming on,
And all the armor of the host was flashing in the sun.
The hauberks and the helmets shone with a mighty glare,
And likewise the good bucklers with flowers painted fair,
And gleaming were the lances and the gonfalons of gold.
The Emperor in anger his way along did hold.
And the Franks were very angry, and of very evil cheer.
Was none but in his sorrow shed many a bitter tear.
For the safety of Count Roland they were all in mighty fear.
And Charlemagne the Emperor let Ganelon be ta'en.
To the cooks within his kitchen he delivered him amain.
Begon the master of the cooks he charged most heavily.
" This fellow like a traitor do thou watch and ward for me
That betrayed my house. "
And Begon took the Count in custody.
Of the best and worst an hundred of the kitchen fellowship
Put he o'er him, and they pulled the beard on the Count's chin and lip.
And every one to Ganelon with the fist four buffets gave,
And thereafter beat him nobly with the twig and with the stave.
And a mighty chain about his neck they forced the man to wear.
They chained him in no otherwise than as men chain a bear.
And high upon a sumpter-beast they set him in disdain.
Thus they kept him till they gave him to the hands of Charlemagne.

CXL

Darkling are all the summits and very great and high,
And deep are all the valleys and the streams run swift thereby.
In van and rear the war-horns sounded up and down the track;
To the great horn of Roland they gave their answer back.
And aye they prayed unto their God that Roland he would shield,
Till they were come unto him upon the battle-field.
They will strike with him verily. What worth that they are strong?
Naught worth! They may not come in time. They have tarried overlong.