Part 13 (1/2)

Gualter it is, who conquered Maelgut, And nephew was to h.o.a.ry old Drouin; My va.s.salage thou ever thoughtest good.

Broken my spear, and split my s.h.i.+eld 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 n.o.ble 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 s.h.i.+eld 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

Turpin of Reims hath felt himself undone, Since that four spears have through his body come; Nimble and bold upon his feet he jumps; Looks for Rollant, and then towards him runs, Saying this word: ”I am not overcome.

While life remains, no good va.s.sal gives up.”

He's drawn Almace, whose steel was brown and rough, Through the great press a thousand blows he's struck: As Charles said, quarter he gave to none; He found him there, four hundred else among, Wounded the most, speared through the middle some, Also there were from whom the heads he'd cut: So tells the tale, he that was there says thus, The brave Saint Giles, whom G.o.d made marvellous, Who charters wrote for th' Minster at Loum; Nothing he's heard that does not know this much.

CLVI

The count Rollanz has n.o.bly fought and well, But he is hot, and all his body sweats; Great pain he has, and trouble in his head, His temples burst when he the horn sounded; But he would know if Charles will come to them, Takes the olifant, and feebly sounds again.

That Emperour stood still and listened then: ”My lords,” said he, ”Right evilly we fare!

This day Rollanz, my nephew shall be dead: I hear his horn, with scarcely any breath.

Nimbly canter, whoever would be there!

Your trumpets sound, as many as ye bear!”

Sixty thousand so loud together blare, The mountains ring, the valleys answer them.

The pagans hear, they think it not a jest; Says each to each: ”Carlum doth us bestead.”

AOI.

CLVII

The pagans say: ”That Emperour's at hand, We hear their sound, the trumpets of the Franks; If Charles come, great loss we then shall stand, And wars renewed, unless we slay Rollant; All Spain we'll lose, our own clear father-land.”

Four hundred men of them in helmets stand; The best of them that might be in their ranks Make on Rollanz a grim and fierce attack; Gainst these the count had well enough in hand.

AOI.

CLVIII

The count Rollanz, when their approach he sees Is grown so bold and manifest and fierce So long as he's alive he will not yield.