Page:Once a Week Jun to Dec 1864.pdf/467

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The nobles will not brook to hear

Their royal master’s taunting,

And knight and bishop, prince and peer,

Their might and prowess vaunting,

Cry out for buckler and for brand

And steel-clad steed to seek the land

Where lurks the giant hiding.

Earl Milo’s son, then, Roland hight,

Cried “O my father, hear me;

Thou deemest me too young to fight,

Or see the foeman near me;

Yet am I old enough to bear

Thy goodly shield and pointed spear,

As thine esquire behind thee!”

Six warriors, riding side by side,

Towards Ardennes’ forest started;

But when they reached the woodland wide

They one from other parted:

Still Roland rode behind his sire,

And pointed spear like trusty squire,

And mighty buckler carried.

’Neath sun and moon the seekers rode.

Of danger all defiant;

But, riding on thro’ rock and wood,

They lit not on the giant.

Four times the sun had led the day,

When fast asleep earl Milo lay,

Beneath an oak recumbent.

Young Roland in the distance spied

A shining and a flashing,

And through the woodland, far and wide,

The frighten’d roebuck dashing!

He saw a light from out a shield

A grisly monster-man did wield,

Adown the steep descending.

The thought sprung up in Roland’s breast,

What is there here to scare me?

Shall I break through my father’s rest

Because the foe is near me?

Here wake and watch both sword and spear,

And shield and steel-clad horse, and here

Childe Roland wakes and watches.

He buckles on the trusty brand

That by his sire is lying,

He lifts the long lance in his hand,

And, thus the foe defying,

His father’s charger he bestrides,

And softly through the firs he rides,

The while the earl is sleeping.

As Roland to the steep draws near.

The giant, laughing loudly,

Asks, “Wherefore comes yon youngster here,

On charger mounted proudly?

His spear will pull him from his seat,—

His shield will crush him at my feet,—

He’s half his sword’s length only!”

Come out and fight,” young Roland cried,

“No child’s-play thou shalt find it;

The shield I bear is tall and wide,

The safer I behind it;

The man is weak, the steed is strong,

The arm is short, the lance is long,

The sword is sharp—thou’lt feel it!”

The giant struck a mighty blow

As Roland thus defied him;

But Roland swerved, and, bending low,

The club fell vain beside him.

Then forth his pointed spear he flung,

But from the charmed shield it sprung,

On Roland back rebounding.

Then Roland deftly raised his blade,

Both hands the hilt held tightly;

The giant his to lift essayed,

But could not wield it lightly;

Then Roland struck a cunning blow;

He clove the wrist the shield below,

And hand and shield dropped quickly.

The giant’s heart was high no more,

His arm no more the stronger;

The gem that in the shield he bore

Could lend him might no longer.

He reached to raise again the shield,

But Roland’s spear-point made him yield,

And fall before the victor.

Then Roland seized his hair, and through

His drooping neck divided;

And far along the vale below

A stream of life-blood glided;

And Roland wrenched the radiant stone

From out the shield his arm had won,

And in its splendour gloried.

He hid the gem, and in the flood

That at his feet was flowing,

He cleansed the stains of dust and blood

His coat and sword were shewing;

Back Roland rode apace, and found

His sire still laid along the ground,

Beneath the oak-tree sleeping.

He laid him at his father’s side,

And soon was soundly sleeping;

Then in the cool of evening-tide

The earl, erect upleaping,

Cried, “Rouse thee, Roland, seize thy spear,

’Tis late that we should linger here,

Nor ride the giant seeking.”

With haste the two their steeds bestrode,

With thoughts of deeds of daring:

Behind his sire young Roland rode,

The spear and buckler bearing.

And soon they reach’d the battle-ground

Whereon the giant death had found,

And where his corse was lying.