CXLI

And Charlemagne the Emperor in mighty anger sped.
Down on his battle-hauberk his great white beard it spread.
In fiery haste along with him the Frankish barons spurred.
There was no man among them but spoke a bitter word,
For that with the Captain Roland they were not standing then,
What time he joined the battle with the Spanish Saracen.
Of his host, if he be wounded, no soul alive will be.
Ah, what a gallant sixty yet keep him company!
There is no king or captain hath better men than he.

CXLII

Over the heaths and mountains looked Roland every way,
And he saw dead upon the field how thick the Frenchmen lay.
And like unto a courteous knight sore he bewailed their case:
" Ah now my fair lord barons! God grant you His sweet grace,
And permit unto your spirits His Paradise to share;
And cause you to lie down among the holy flowers there.
A better sort of vassal I never yet did see.
For a great time good service have ye ever yielded me.
For the Emperor many nations ye conquered in your power:
But he undertook your governance in a very evil hour.
O land of France, my country that is so sweet and bright,
To-day hast thou lost forever full many a gallant knight.
Lords of the Franks I saw you, how for my sake ye fell;
And I could not defend you nor send you succor well.
May God who never lieth henceforth have you in His hand.
But Olivier my comrade now with thee will I stand.
I will perish of this sorrow, if here I be not slain.
Ho! now my lord companions, let us into it again! "

CXLIII

And forthwith the Count Roland hied him down into the field.
Like to a furious hero the warsword did he wield.
And Falbron of the Peak that tide through the midst he clove in two;
And four and twenty others of the best he overthrew.
Never was man in vengeance had more fearful a delight.
Even as the stag that runneth before the hounds in flight,
Even so before Count Roland the Paynim army fled.
" Thou dost thy duty fairly, " Archbishop Turpin said.
" It is this sort of courage every knight should have indeed.
That beareth any armor and sitteth on a steed.
He ought in the high battles both stout and stark to be.
Otherwise are four farthings of better worth than he.
A monk in a monastery he should hide himself away,
And pray for our deliverance from our ill deeds each day. "
Roland answered:
" Smite and spare not. " They began again the war;
But in the fray the Christians a mighty loss they bore.

CXLIV

When that there was no quarter was known to every wight,
There was no man but furiously went down into the fight.
And therefore all the Frenchmen like lions wood were they.
Lo! now is come King Marsile like a hero of the fray.
On the steed Gaignon spurring hard, he came, and hath o'er-thrown
Bevon that was the hero of Dijon and of Beaune.
He burst right through the hauberk; the shield he broke in twain.
Without ado the hero he struck him down amain;
And Ivoris, moreover, and Ivo hath he slain,
And Gerard of Roussillon therewith. Roland not far was he.
He said unto the Paynim:
" The Lord God's curse on thee!
With little right or reason my comrades didst thou slay.
Thou shalt feel my heaviness of hand, e'er we depart this day;
And thou shalt know, moreover, the name of this my brand. "
Like a knight he went to smite him and cut off his right hand.
And then he has smitten off the head of Jorfaleu the Fair.
Of the Saracen King Marsile he was the son and heir.
The Paynims cried:
" Mahomet aid! Our gods on Charlemagne
Wreak vengeance for the villains he marshalled into Spain.
Rather than yield the battle-field unto us, will they die. "
Said one unto the other: " Then forthwith let us fly. "
At the word an hundred thousand, to the rear they took the track:
Never more will they turn again, whoever calls them back.

CXLIVa

King Marsile his right hand hath lost, and Jorfaleu lies dead
To earth he cast the shield. The steed sharply he spurred, and fled.
He loosed the rein away to Spain. An hundred thousand strong
Was the number of the flyers that went with him along.
There was not one among them but he was wounded sore.
Said each to each: " The nephew of King Charles hath won the war. "

CXLV

What profits it, if Marsile his flight away hath ta'en?
Yet doth his eme the Algalif upon the field remain.
He ruled in Cartagena, Alferne and Garmalie,
And Ethiopia accursed, and in his seignory
Was the Negro race. Great noses and mighty ears have they.
And more than fifty thousand were gathered for the fray.
And they came riding thither in mighty wrath and proud.
The war-cry of the Paynims they lifted up aloud.
Cried Roland:
" Unto martyrdom now are we given o'er.
In my heart I understand it that we shall live no more.
But let him be accursed his life that sells not dear
Now with the shining war-sword smite every cavalier.
Now with a mighty challenge your life and death defend,
That ne'er on the sweet realm of France through you shall shame descend.
When to the field hereafter cometh King Charlemagne,
And seeth of the Paynims what a multitude are slain,
And that for every one of us fifteen of them are dead,
He will not cease from pouring his blessings on our head. "

CXLVI

But when that the Count Roland had seen the accursed race,
Whereof each man of them than ink was blacker of his face,
(Save for the teeth was every man among them even so)
Then spake the Count:
" Now verily I understand and know
That every man among us shall perish on this day.
Strike, Franks! Anew in your behalf will I take up the fray. "
Quoth Olivier: " Misfortune on the faint-hearted light: "
And at the word the Frenchmen hurled down into the fight.

CXLVII

When the Paynims saw the Frenchmen that their number was so small,
In comfort and in joyance they cheered them one and all.
" God is not with the Emperor, " one to the other said.
There was the Algalif, that sate upon a charger red.
With the golden spurs he spurred him, and running from the rear
Full in the back a dreadful stroke he smote on Olivier.
And the white hauberk on him from his body there he clove;
Through his breast forth of the breast-bone the bitter lance he drove.
Thereto he said unto him:
" Thou hast ta'en thy stroke of fate,
In an evil hour King Charlemagne hath left thee in the gate.
He hath wrought us wrong exceeding, but thereof he shall not boast,
For well enough on thee alone have I avenged our host. "

CXLVIII

And Olivier knew forthwith that his death wound he bore:
Before he should avenge himself he would not tarry more.
On high he lifted Haulteclair whereof the steel flashed brown
On the Algalif's bright golden helm he brought the great stroke down
At a blow the gems and flowers unto the ground he sped;
And straight into two pieces he clove the Paynim's head.
He brandished o'er the Algalif, and slew him at the stroke.
" My curse upon thee, Paynim. " Thus he thereafter spoke:
" I say not that no loss at all is come on Charlemagne;
" But unto any woman thou wilt not go again
To boast thyself in any way in the country of thy birth
How thou hast ta'en from Charlemagne a single farthing's worth,
Nor the havoc that on others and upon me thou hast made. "
After he called to Roland that he might bring him aid.

CXLIX

That his sore wound was mortal, Olivier knew inwardly;
But he deemed that it was not enough himself avenged to be.
Once more to smite like a good knight into the press he wheeled.
There he cut through the lances and many a buckled shield,
And fist and foot and shoulder, and likewise many a side.
Who that champion a-hewing at the Saracens descried,
And hurling down their bodies o'er each other in a pile,
The deeds of a good vassal might keep in mind the while.
And still not yet could he forget Charlemagne's battle-cry.
" Mountjoy! " he kept a-shouting in a clear voice and high,
And to Roland his good comrade with a loud voice did he say:
" Draw nigh, fair friend. In sorrow we twain must part this day. "

CL

Roland looked upon Olivier, that was livid and pale and wan.
The clear blood from his body, forth in a spurt it ran.
Down to the ground went dropping the great clots of the gore.
" God! " said Count Roland, " What to do I know not any more.
Lord comrade, mighty evil has wrought thy chivalry.
Of his body none for courage shall ever equal thee.
Sweet land of France, how barren art thou this day, and waste
Of all thy gallant heroes, and confounded and disgraced.
The Emperor in this slaughter will have great loss indeed. "
The word he scarce had spoken when he fainted on the steed.

CLI

Lo! now the Marquis Roland on his charger in a swound,
And likewise the Lord Olivier that hath a mortal wound.
And his eyes are growing troubled (his blood has run so free).
The far and near no longer could the knight clearly see,
Nor had he longer power to know any mortal man.
And when on the Count Roland his comrade dear he ran,
On the helmet gemmed and golden he smote him from above,
And the whole of the good helmet from the nasal down he clove,
But the head it did not injure. Roland looked up at the stroke
And unto his companion in a gentle voice he spoke:
" Of thy free-will, my brother, thus dost thou smite me here?
Wottest thou that I am Roland who holdeth thee so dear?
Neither in any fashion yet hast thou challenged me. "
Said Olivier:
" I hear thee speak. I got no sight of thee.
God keep thee! If I smote thee thy pardon will I cry. "
And Roland spoke in answer:
" No hurt I have thereby.
Here I give thee my pardon, and before our God on high. "
And at the word each champion bowed his head before his peer
And thus it was they parted that each other held so dear.

CLII

Olivier felt come o'er him death and its agony.
His eyes were whirling in his head. He could not hear or see.
Down from the steed he got him, and on the ground did lie.
Of the ill deeds of his doing he confessed him loud and high.
That he might enter Paradise to God he made his prayer.
He gave his benediction to Charles and France the fair,
And to his comrade Roland over all the sons of men.
But his heart failed within him and his head he lowered then.
And therewith all his body along the ground it spread.
It was no skill to tarry. Count Olivier was dead.
Roland beheld and wept aloud, lamenting in his woe.
Never ye saw upon the earth a man that sorrowed so.

CLIII

But when looked the Count Roland on his dead friend in the place,
And saw him how he lay there that eastward turned his face,
He gan softly to bewail him:
" Ill for thee, good cavalier,
Was thy might. We were together for many a day and year.
Never ill service gavest thou me, nor I to thee did give.
Now thou art dead, great evil I deem it that I live. "
In the sorrow that he suffered a swound upon him came,
Where he sate upon the charger that Valiant had to name.
But in the stirrups of fine gold firmly were set his feet.
He could not whereso'er he went slip downwards from the seat.

CLIV

Scarce had he come unto himself and wakened from his swound,
When the greatness of the slaughter was clear to him around.
The Franks were dead. The army was lost and overthrown,
Save for Archbishop Turpin and Walter-a-Hume alone,
From the mount that came, where nobly he had fought the men of Spain.
The Saracen had won the day and all his men were slain.
He fled into the valley, whether or no it be gainsaid,
And he shouted unto Roland that he should bear him aid:
" O gentle Count and valiant man, I prithee where art thou?
Afraid would I be never, if I were with thee now.
I am Walter that o'er Mailgut got once the overthrow,
The nephew of Lord Droün with the beard as white as snow.
I was wont to be thy comrade, for my spirit did not quail.
Now lance and shield are shattered, and broken is my mail.
I am thrust through the body with lances overwell;
But myself unto the Saracens right dearly did I sell. "
When that he heard Lord Walter's word, the man Count Roland knew,
And spurring up the charger unto the knight he drew.

CLIVa

" Lord Walter, " said Count Roland, " I deem thou hast been in fight.
Thou hast fought very bravely as becomes a gallant knight.
A thousand valiant cavaliers to the battle didst thou lead.
Give them to me, for of them I have most bitter need. "
And Walter answered:
" Living shalt thou never see them more.
I have left them dead behind me on that dolorous field of war.
There found we at encounter a great army Saracen,
Persians and Turks and Arabs and the Armenian men,
Algolans and men of Beda. Fiercely we fought that host.
No Paynim to another thereof shall make his boast;
For of them sixty thousand dead on the field remain.
But there in that same battle all of our Franks were slain.
For ourselves with the swords of iron we wrought a vengeance great.
Of the hauberk here upon me broken is every plate.
And I have wounds a-plenty my flank and side about.
From all parts of my body the clear blood spurteth out.
And everywhere I weaken and I deem that I shall die.
And I seek thee for deliverance, for thy sworn man am I.
And prithee do not blame me that from the fight I fled. "
" Nay! never will I do it, " in answer Roland said,
" Thou hast suffered much, companion, and a great agony,
But so long as life endureth, lend thou thine aid to me. "

CLV

Roland was filled with anger and likewise bitter wrath.
Again into the battle he began to hew his path.
There hath he given to slaughter twenty of the men of Spain,
And six were killed by Walter, and five hath Turpin slain.
" These be ill knaves, " said the Paynims, " Hence alive let them not flee.
Who comes not up against them, accursed let him be,
And a vile knave who lets them scape. " They raised the hue and cry.
And now from every quarter to the onslaught they drew nigh.

CLVI

Proud is the Marquis Roland, and hardy is his heart.
Walter a Hume beside him like a good knight played his part;
And Turpin the Archbishop is a good man and tried;
In no way any of the three would leave his fellow's side.
They thrust into the heathen press in courage and in might.
A thousand of the Paynims from their horses did alight.
But a full forty thousand upon their steeds were there,
In my belief that nearer to approach them did not dare.
At the Franks the spears and lances were they hurling and the like,
The throwing-dart and javelin, the arrow and the pike.
And there at the first volley Walter-a-Hume they slew.
Turpin of Rheims his buckler they pierced it through and through.
They have broken through his helmet and wounded sore his head,
And as for his good hauberk they rended it and shred.
And right into his body four spears were driven grim.
And the Paynims slew, moreover, the charger under him.
It was an evil hour when the Bishop bit the dust.

CLVII

When he knew that he was stricken, and four spears were through him thrust
Swiftly he leaped unto his feet, and to Roland turned his head,
And forthwith ran unto him. But a single word he said:
" Not yet am I beaten. Living no true man e'er is ta'en. "
Almace, the great brown blade of steel, he plucked it out amain.
A thousand strokes in the great press he dealt there to and fro.
Thereafter said King Charlemagne that he let not any go.
A full four hundred corpses about him there were found.
None was there but was cloven through or bore a deadly wound.
And from some the heads were smitten (in the Deed Book is it writ,
And they that were upon the field likewise attested it).
Saint Giles the knight, in whose behoof God wrought His wonders great,
In Laon Monastery the matter did relate.
And he who speaketh other, thereof he knoweth naught.

CLVIII

Meanwhile the Marquis Roland in fearful guise he fought.
But his body was all sweating and burning as with fire.
His head was like to break in twain with an agony most dire,
And broken were his temples for the blowing of the blast,
But he yearned to know the tidings whether Charles would come at last.
He drew the great horn to him; thereon he feebly blew.
The Emperor halted in the pass. The trumpet call he knew.
" My lords, " said he, " Most certainly we are in evil way.
Count Roland, my good nephew, is lost to us this day.
I know him by his blowing that his life is nearly gone.
Whosoe'er would reach the battle let him prick his charger on.
Blow each horn in the army. "
There blew sixty thousand strong.
Bellowing from vale to mountain echoed the sound along.
The Paynims heard. They jested not concerning that refrain.
Said one unto the other: " At hand is Charlemagne. "

CLIX

Said the Paynims:
" Once more hither the Emperor draws near.
And of the Frankish army the war-horns ye may hear.
If Charlemagne returneth we shall be smitten sore;
And if Count Roland liveth he will wage anew the war;
And Spain is taken from us that was our own good realm. "
Forthwith a full four hundred were gathered under helm.
The fiercest soldiers on the field in fury made attack
Upon the Marquis Roland that labor did not lack.

CLX

But when the Marquis Roland beheld them how they came,
Then was he fierce and mighty and ready for the game.
Nor will he yield him to them while life within him stirs.
He leaped on Valiant and pricked him with the good golden spurs.
And rushed to slaughter 'mid the press, and with him Turpin sped.
" Flee hence away, good comrades, " each to each the Paynims said.
" Of the French host the war-horns ye may hear them far and wide.
Hither again doth Charlemagne the mighty Emperor ride. "