HKB
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