[LXXXV.]
"Rollànd, companion, sound your olifant, That Carle may hear and soon bring back the host. With all his Baronage the king will give Us held!"—Replied Rollánd:—"May God fore-fend That for my cause my kindred e'er be blamed, Or that dishonor fall upon sweet France. Nay, I will deal hard blows with Durendal, This my good sword now girt unto my side Whose blade you'll see all reeking with red blood. Those felon Pagans have for their ill fate Together met—yea, death awaits them all." Aoi.
[LXXXVI.]
"Companion Rollánd, sound your olifant! If Carle who passes through the mounts shall hear, To you I pledge my word, the French return." Answered Rollánd:—"May God forbid!—Ne'er be It said by living man that Pagans could Cause me to blow my horn, to bring disgrace Upon my kin!—When on the battle field, I'll strike one thousand seven hundred blows, And Durendal all bleeding shall you see. [The French are brave and bravely will they strike.] Those Spanish Moors are doomed to certain death." Aoi.
[LXXXVII.]
Olivier said:—"To me there seems no shame; I have beheld the Moors of Spain; they swarm O'er mountains, vales and lands, hide all the plains; Great is this stranger host; our number small." Rollánd replies:—"The more my ardor grows. God and his [blessed] angels grant that France Lose naught of her renown through my default. Better to die than in dishonor [live.] The more we strike the more Carle's love we gain!" Aoi.
[LXXXVIII.]
Rollánd is brave and Olivier is wise; Both knights of wond'rous courage—and in arms And mounted on their steeds, they both will die Ere they will shun the fight. Good are the Counts And proud their words.—The Pagan felons ride In fury on!—"Rollánd," said Olivier, "One moment, look! Our foes so close, and Carle Afar from us—you have not deigned to blow Your horn! If came the king, no hurt were ours. Cast your eyes toward the great defiles of Aspre; There see this most unhappy rear-guard. [Those Who here fight, ne'er shall fight on other fields.">[ Rollànd retorts:—"Speak not such shameful words. Woe unto him who bears a coward's heart Within his breast. There firm shall we remain; The combat and the blows from us shall come." Aoi.
[LXXXIX.]
Now when Rollánd the battle sees at hand, More than a leopard's or a lion's pride He shows. He calls the French and Olivier: "Companion, friend, pray, speak of this no more. The Emperor who left his French in trust To us, has chos'n those twenty thousand men. Right well he knows none has a coward's soul. A man should suffer hurt for his good lord, Endure great cold or scorching heat, and give Even to his flesh and blood—Strike with your lance, And I with Durendal, my trusty sword, Carle's gift. If here I die, may he who wins It, say:—'Twas once the sword of a brave knight." Aoi.