CLXI

Count Roland loved no craven nor proud nor haughty wight,
Nor ever any cavalier that was not a faithful knight.
He called to Bishop Turpin:
" Lo! on thy feet art thou,
And I a-horse; of charity I will halt beside thee now.
Let us abide together the evil and the good.
I will not quit thee for any that is made of flesh and blood.
This day in this same battle well shall the Paynims know.
The name of the sword Almace and Durendal also. "
" 'Tis a knave his best who strikes not, " Turpin said to him again.
" At his return great toll for us shall take King Charlemagne. "
CLXII

Said the Paynims:
" Very evil was our fortune to be born.
And the day was very dreadful that broke for us this morn.
We had sore loss of many a lord and many a gallant peer.
With his great host Charles the Captain again returneth here.
We hearken the clear war-horn of the Frenchmen blowing high.
Loud is the thunder of Mountjoy that is their battle-cry.
As for the Marquis Roland so terrible is he,
That not in fight by mortal man e'er vanquished will he be.
Give him now room; cast at him, standing from him apart. "
At him was many a javelin flung, and many a throwing dart,
And many a feathered arrow and many a lance and spear.
They pierced and rent his buckler, and made havoc of his gear.
They hurt not Roland's body, but the steed Valiant through
They smote in thirty places, and 'neath the Count they slew.
They let him bide and swiftly they turned away in flight.
Roland was left there standing upon the field of fight.

CLXIII

In sore haste fled the Paynims and in anger and in wrath.
Hard back into the land of Spain, now have they turned their path.
In no wise did Count Roland follow upon their course.
He had lost within the battle Valiant his gallant horse;
And, would he not or would he, in the place afoot he stayed.
Unto Archbishop Turpin he went to bear him aid.
And he unlaced, moreover, the golden helmet bright.
And he loosened the white hauberk, so fair that was and light.
He divided the good tunic, and many a wound he dressed
With pieces of the garment and bound them with the rest.
Then to his heart the Bishop he held in an embrace,
And down he softly laid him in a green grassy place
And gently prayed:
" Ah, goodly man, give me thy leave to go!
Our comrades whom we held so dear have met their overthrow.
We must not leave them. I will seek and find them where they be,
And bring them straightway hither, and rank them here by thee. "
Said Turpin the Archbishop:
" Go and return apace.
Thou and I have won the battle through God's exceeding grace. "

CLXIV

Then Roland turned from Turpin. Alone through the field he hied.
He searched along the valley; he searched the mountain-side.
On Ivoris and Ivo and Gerier he fell,
And Gerin his good comrade, and Berenger as well.
On Othon and on Samson and Anseis came he,
And likewise upon Engelier the man of Gascony.
And with them Gerard the old man of Roussillon he found.
And one by one the barons he lifted from the ground,
And forth unto the Bishop each one of them he bore.
In a long rank he ranged them the Bishop's knees before,
That could not keep from weeping. But he lifted up his hand
And blessed them and said:
" Lord barons, in evil stead ye stand.
By the great God now may your souls be raised up and ta'en,
And amid the holy flowers be suffered to remain.
In very bitter anguish my death comes over me,
And nevermore King Charlemagne the splendid will I see. "

CLXV

Count Roland o'er the battle field went seeking far and near,
And at the last discovered his comrade Olivier.
And straitly to his bosom he clasped the dead man there.
And as he might with the body to the Bishop did he fare.
On a shield beside his fellows he laid the dead to rest.
And there Archbishop Turpin has absolved them all and blest.
And now his pain and pity waxed great without an end.
" Oh Olivier, " said Roland, " my fair and lovely friend,
Thou wert son to the Duke of Genoa the gallant lord Rainier.
To batter through the buckler, to shatter the strong spear,
To overthrow the arrogant and to dismay their pride,
And gallant men and heroes to counsel and to guide,
The villains aye to conquer and to fill them with affright,
Ne'er in the girth of all the earth was there a better knight. "

CLXVI

But when Count Roland cast his eye on the corpse of each dead peer,
And on Olivier, moreover, whom he had held so dear,
Then straightway he began to weep, he felt such tenderness;
And the color of his visage was changed in his distress.
He had so great a sorrow that its like might not be found.
And, would he not or would he, he fainted on the ground.
Said Turpin unto Roland: " Thou art come on an evil day. "
CLXVII

When well had the Archbishop seen how Roland swooned away,
Then sorrowed he so bitterly that so greatly none might mourn.
He reached his hand to Roland and got hold upon the horn.
There was in Roncevaux hard by a running water spring.
He would go there that water to Roland he might bring.
He put great force upon him. And on his feet he got.
With little steps and feeble he went tottering towards the spot.
He was so weak he might not walk. He had lost such store of blood
That he had no strength or courage. Ere he had gone a rood
His heart gave way within him. Forward he fell again;
And his own death came on him in a great burst of pain.

CLXVIII

Meanwhile the Marquis Roland out of his swound arose.
Upon his feet he got him, but grievous were his woes.
Above him and below him his eyes wandered away.
Beyond his friends on the green grass he saw where Turpin lay,
That good baron the Archbishop, God's embassador. On high
Looked Turpin and confessed him with his eyes unto the sky.
He prayed God to enter Heaven. Charlemagne's knight was dead.
By the great fights he fought in, by the good words that he said,
Ever against the Paynims had he kept up the war.
His Holy Benediction God give to him therefor.

CLXIX

Roland looked on the Archbishop where he lay upon the earth,
And saw out of his body the bowels gushing forth.
He saw on the rent forehead the brains come bubbling through,
And flowing down upon his breast between his shoulders two.
The two white hands together he crossed that were so fair.
After the custom of the land he mourned for Turpin there:
" Ah! man of fair conditions and lineage great and high,
This day to God I give thee, the ruler of the sky.
Never man did His service than thou more willingly.
None was since the apostles so great in prophecy;
Nor to keep the law of Christians, nor heathen to convert.
May now thy spirit therefore suffer no kind of hurt.
Of Paradise may now the gates for thee be open thrown. "

CLXX

Count Roland knew in spirit that his own death came on.
For his own brains in that hour were bursting from his ears.
That God might take them to Him, he prayed for all the peers.
Then to the Angel Gabriel for his own sake he prayed.
He seized the horn that no reproach against him might be made,
And Durendal the war-sword in the other hath he ta'en.
Farther than crossbow shoots the bolt into the land of Spain
To a meadow and a hillock in the meadow mounted he.
There were four great steps of marble under a noble tree.
And down on the green herbage backward he fell thereby.
There hath he swooned and fainted, for his death drew very nigh.

CLXXI

Oh lofty were the mountains and tall the trees each one.
There were four great steps fashioned of glistening marble stone.
But there spied on him a Saracen that death nearby had feigned,
Lying with the dead. His body and his face with blood were stained.
Forthwith he got upon his feet. He hasted and he ran.
He was beautiful and mighty and a very hardy man.
And anger rose within him for his heart was full of pride.
He seized on Roland's body and his weapons, and he cried:
" Vanquished is Charles's nephew. His sword now will I take
To Araby. "
As he touched it, somewhat the Count did wake.

CLXXII

Roland felt how the Paynim strove then to lift the sword.
He oped his eyes, and to him said but a single word:
" Thou art after my deeming no soldier of our host. "
He lifted up the war-horn that he had not lightly lost.
Right on the jewelled helmet he smote him such a stroke
That he shattered all the iron, and brow and skull he broke.
Both of the eyes together were beaten from his head.
Right at the feet of Roland was the Paynim stricken dead.
" To lay thine hand upon me, " said he, " thou Paynim knave,
With right or else with unright, what made thee now so brave?
For a fool all men hereafter shall hold thee now in scorn.
Broken into many pieces is the great bell of mine horn
The jewels and the gold-work are wrenched away and torn. "

CLXXIII

Well knew the good Count Roland that his death was hard at hand.
His strength he strove to gather, and on his feet did stand.
The color from his visage forth was driven and dispelled,
And in his hand the naked brand, even Durendal, he held.
Before him was a great brown stone amidmost of his path.
Ten strokes he smote upon it in agony and wrath.
Grided the steel but broke not. No notch was on the blade.
" Ah, " said the Count, " Saint Mary come now unto my aid.
Ah, Durendal! good war-sword, evil is thy destiny.
The day whereon I lose myself I cannot care for thee.
Many battles I won with thee, many lands did overthrow,
Where now doth reign King Charlemagne with the beard as white as snow.
Mayst thou ne'er be his possession, for another that will flee.
For it was a good vassal that a long time carried thee.
In the land of France another his like there will not be. "

CLXXIV

Roland upon the sardine stone a mighty stroke let fall.
Grided the steel but broke not, nor was it notched at all.
And when he had beheld it that the sword he could not break,
Unto himself a bitter moan he then began to make:
" O Durendal, how art thou so beautiful and white!
Flashing and flaming in the sun thou scatterest the light.
What time Charlemagne had halted in the Vale of Maurienne,
God out of Heaven an angel sent down unto him then,
And bade him to a noble count a gift to make of thee.
And the gentle King and mighty girded thee there on me.
For him I won all Brittany, Anjou, Poitou, and Maine,
And the free land of Normandy, Provence and Aquitain.
The Roman March and Lombardy I conquered to his hand,
I won beside Bavaria and all the Flemish land.
Bulgaria and Poland by me were overthrown,
Also Constantinople that Charles for king did own.
All Saxony, moreover, his whole behest hath done.
And Ireland, Wales and Scotland for Charlemagne I won,
And the English island likewise, that he took of his own right.
A many lands and nations I conquered in the fight,
That now are the possession of white-bearded Charlemagne.
Wherefore I suffer for this sword great pity and great pain.
I had rather die than a Paynim should win it by ill chance.
Fair God! let such dishonor fall never upon France. "


CLXXV

Again the sword of Roland down on the dark stone fell.
He smote more oft and harder than I know how to tell.
Grided the sword upon the stone, but shattered not nor broke.
Back again into heaven it rebounded from the stroke.
And when the Count beheld it that unbroken was the blade,
Then very softly to himself his sore complaint he made:
" Ah, Durendal! how holy and virtuous art thou!
Within thy golden pommel relics there are enow.
The tooth of good Saint Peter, and Saint Basil's blood are there,
And of my Lord Saint Denis a lock of sacred hair,
And of the Virgin's vesture a little part and share.
A possession of the Paynims thou oughtest not to be.
In battle should a Christian forever carry thee.
Ah, may no man that bears thee ever have a coward's name,
For many were the nations that with thee I overcame,
Wherein doth reign King Charlemagne with the great beard like a flower.
Strong thereby is the Emperor and full of utter power. "

CLXXVI

When Roland knew his death hour how hard on him it pressed,
And that death was slowly creeping from his brow unto his breast,
Under a pine he hastened, and down his body laid
On the green grass. Beneath him he placed his horn and blade.
And unto the great land of Spain he turned his head away.
He did the thing for sore he yearned that Charlemagne might say
And all his host: " A conqueror the gallant Count has died. "
And he made confession duly and for forgiveness cried,
And his glove to God he offered for the ill deeds he had done.

CLXXVII

When well had Roland seen it that his time of life was gone,
There abode he on the mountain-peak that turneth unto Spain,
There with one hand his bosom he smote on it amain:
" Forgive Thou mine iniquities of Thy mercy one, and all,
All of my evil doings, the great ones and the small
That I have done upon the earth since the day that I was born
Unto this day, wherein I was much smitten and forlorn. "
His right glove to God in Heaven he reached it up on high,
And God His angels to him flew down out of the sky.

CLXXVIII

Count Roland neath a pine-tree down on the ground has lain,
And far away he turned his glance unto the land of Spain.
And many things together were remembered of the knight:
What a great store of nations he had conquered in the fight.
He thought on the sweet land of France and of his kindred dear,
And on Charlemagne his master that erewhile did him rear.
And he could not keep from sobbing, and he wept in his distress.
Yet he let not his spirit perish in forgetfulness.
For he prayed to God for mercy, and his guilt aloud he cried
Clearly to God:
" Ah very God that never yet hath lied,
Ah, God! who brought Saint Lazarus in glory from the grave,
Who succor 'gainst the lion to the Prophet Daniel gave,
Guard me from evil and the sins within my life that stand. "
He strove to God to proffer the glove of his right hand,
But from him was it taken by the Angel Gabriel.
The head of the Count Roland on his shoulder drooped and fell!
His hands were crossed together as his end came over him;
But God hath sent unto him His holy cherubim.
Saint Michael-of-the-Peril-of-the-Sea was come likewise
With Gabriel, and Roland they bore up to Paradise.

CLXXIX

Roland is dead. His spirit hath God in Heaven ta'en.
The Emperor to Roncevaux with the army came again.
Nor track, nor path, nor open space, nor grove, nor a foot of ground
Was there but the dead Paynims and the dead Franks were found.
" Where art thou, my fair nephew? " called the Emperor hastily,
" Where now is the Archbishop? Olivier where is he?
Gerier, Gerin, Othon and the Count Berengier?
And Ivoris and Ivo that are to me so dear?
What matter doth to Engelier of Gascony betide?
What hath befallen Samson and Anseis full of pride?
Gerard the Lord of Roussillon, where may the old man be?
The twelve peers of the army that I left behind with thee? "
What profits it? Was no one to answer and reply.
" Christ God! " said the King Charlemagne, " In evil case am I
That I was not come thither when this hard fight began. "
He plucked and tore at his great beard as doth an angry man.
And sore he wept, and with him all the horsenlen of the Franks.
There were twenty thousand on the ground that fainted in the ranks,
For whom exceeding pity did the Duke Neimes bear.

CLXXX

There was not any chevalier nor any baron there,
That for duty and for sorrow but was weeping without end,
For son and brother and nephew, for liege lord and for friend.
Upon the ground had fallen in a swound the greater part.
But now did the Duke Neimes like a man of gallant heart.
" Two leagues from us look onwards, " he, first of all, did say
To Charlemagne, " Thou mayst behold the dust rise in the way,
There is a host remaining yet to the Paynim foe.
March on, my master Charlemagne. Do thou avenge our woe. "
" God! " said the King, " Already are they far upon their flight.
Let every man strive to restore mine honor and my right.
Of the French realm the flower they have snatched it from mine hand. "
To Geboin and Otho the King gave his command
And to Tybalt of Rheims, moreover, and Milo the good Count.
" Guard ye the field of battle, the valley and the mount.
Even as they fell in battle do ye now let them lie.
Unto them let no lion nor any beast draw nigh,
Nor squire, nor knave, nor any man shall to the place come near,
Until by God's good pleasure the host returneth here. "
" Just Emperor! We will do thy will. " They answered softly then
Of their great love. They kept with them a thousand of their men.