Charles the great should not have left you so;He's done us wrong, small thanks to him we owe;I've well avenged all ours on you alone."CXLVI
Oliver feels that he to die is bound, Holds Halteclere, whose steel is rough and brown, Strikes the alcaliph on his helm's golden mount;Flowers and stones fall clattering to the ground, Slices his head, to th'small teeth in his mouth;So brandishes his blade and flings him down;After he says: "Pagan, accurst be thou!
Thou'lt never say that Charles forsakes me now;Nor to thy wife, nor any dame thou'st found, Thou'lt never boast, in lands where thou wast crowned, One pennyworth from me thou'st taken out, Nor damage wrought on me nor any around."After, for aid, "Rollant!" he cries aloud.
AOI.
CXLVII
Oliver feels that death is drawing nigh;
To avenge himself he hath no longer time;Through the great press most gallantly he strikes, He breaks their spears, their buckled shields doth slice, Their feet, their fists, their shoulders and their sides, Dismembers them: whoso had seen that sigh, Dead in the field one on another piled, Remember well a vassal brave he might.
Charles ensign he'll not forget it quite;Aloud and clear "Monjoie" again he cries.
To call Rollanz, his friend and peer, he tries:
"My companion, come hither to my side.
With bitter grief we must us now divide."AOI.
CXLVIII
Then Rollant looked upon Olivier's face;
Which was all wan and colourless and pale, While the clear blood, out of his body sprayed, Upon the ground gushed forth and ran away.
"God!" said that count, "What shall I do or say?
My companion, gallant for such ill fate!
Neer shall man be, against thee could prevail.
Ah! France the Douce, henceforth art thou made waste Of vassals brave, confounded and disgraced!
Our Emperour shall suffer damage great."
And with these words upon his horse he faints.
AOI.
CXLIX
You'd seen Rollant aswoon there in his seat, And Oliver, who unto death doth bleed, So much he's bled, his eyes are dim and weak;Nor clear enough his vision, far or near, To recognise whatever man he sees;His companion, when each the other meets, Above the helm jewelled with gold he beats, Slicing it down from there to the nose-piece, But not his head; he's touched not brow nor cheek.
At such a blow Rollant regards him keen, And asks of him, in gentle tones and sweet:
"To do this thing, my comrade, did you mean?
This is Rollanz, who ever held you dear;
And no mistrust was ever us between."
Says Oliver: "Now can I hear you speak;
I see you not: may the Lord God you keep!
I struck you now: and for your pardon plead."Answers Rollanz: "I am not hurt, indeed;
I pardon you, before God's Throne and here."Upon these words, each to the other leans;And in such love you had their parting seen.
CL
Oliver feels death's anguish on him now;
And in his head his two eyes swimming round;Nothing he sees; he hears not any sound;
Dismounting then, he kneels upon the ground, Proclaims his sins both firmly and aloud, Clasps his two hands, heavenwards holds them out, Prays God himself in Paradise to allow;Blessings on Charles, and on Douce France he vows, And his comrade, Rollanz, to whom he's bound.
Then his heart fails; his helmet nods and bows;Upon the earth he lays his whole length out:
And he is dead, may stay no more, that count.
Rollanz the brave mourns him with grief profound;Nowhere on earth so sad a man you'd found.
CLI
So Rollant's friend is dead whom when he sees Face to the ground, and biting it with's teeth, Begins to mourn in language very sweet:
"Unlucky, friend, your courage was indeed!
Together we have spent such days and years;No harmful thing twixt thee and me has been.
Now thou art dead, and all my life a grief."And with these words again he swoons, that chief, Upon his horse, which he calls Veillantif;Stirrups of gold support him underneath;
He cannot fall, whichever way he lean.
CLII
Soon as Rollant his senses won and knew, Recovering and turning from that swoon.
Bitter great loss appeared there in his view:
Dead are the Franks; he'd all of them to lose, Save the Archbishop, and save Gualter del Hum;He is come down out of the mountains, who Gainst Spanish men made there a great ado;Dead are his men, for those the pagans slew;Will he or nill, along the vales he flew, And called Rollant, to bring him succour soon:
"Ah! Gentle count, brave soldier, where are you?
For By thy side no fear I ever knew.
Gualter it is, who conquered Maelgut, And nephew was to hoary old Drouin;My vassalage thou ever thoughtest good.
Broken my spear, and split my shield in two;Gone is the mail that on my hauberk grew;This body of mine eight lances have gone through;I'm dying. Yet full price for life I took."Rollant has heard these words and understood, Has spurred his horse, and on towards him drew.
AOI.
CLIII
Grief gives Rollanz intolerance and pride;Through the great press he goes again to strike;To slay a score of Spaniards he contrives, Gualter has six, the Archbishop other five.
The pagans say: "Men, these, of felon kind!
Lordings, take care they go not hence alive!
Felon he's named that does not break their line, Recreant, who lets them any safety find!"And so once more begin the hue and cry, From every part they come to break the line.
AOI.
CLI
Count Rollant is a noble and brave soldier, Gualter del Hum's a right good chevalier, That Archbishop hath shewn good prowess there;None of them falls behind the other pair;Through the great press, pagans they strike again.
Come on afoot a thousand Sarrazens, And on horseback some forty thousand men.
But well I know, to approach they never dare;Lances and spears they poise to hurl at them, Arrows, barbs, darts and javelins in the air.
With the first flight they've slain our Gualtier;Turpin of Reims has all his shield broken, And cracked his helm; he's wounded in the head, From his hauberk the woven mail they tear, In his body four spear-wounds doth he bear;Beneath him too his charger's fallen dead.
Great grief it was, when that Archbishop fell.
AOI.
CLV
