Page:Select Popular Tales from the German of Musaeus.djvu/139



OUSIN ROLAND had, as all the world knows, conducted the wars of his uncle, the Emperor Charles, with glory and success, and had done immortal deeds, recited by poets and romance singers, until Ganelon the traitor deprived him of the victory over the Saracens, and at the same time of life, at Roncesvalles, at the foot of the Pyrenees. Of what avail was it to the hero that he had slain the son of Anak, the giant Ferracutus,—the insolent Syrian, of the race of Goliath, since he still must succumb to the sabre-strokes of the unbelievers! against whom his good sword Duridana could not protect him this time; for he had run through his heroic career, and was now at its close. Deserted by all the world, he lay among the heaps of slain, grievously wounded, and tormented with burning thirst. In this sad condition, he collected all his strength, and sounded three times his wonderful horn, to give Charles the concerted sign that he was in the last extremity.

Although the Emperor, with his army, was encamped at eight miles’ distance from the battle-field, he yet recognised the sound of the wondrous horn, dismissed the feast (to the great chagrin of his courtiers, who scented a dainty pasty which was just then served up), and caused his army to set forth immediately to the succour of his nephew. It was then, however, too late; since Roland had already breathed out his heroic soul. The Saracens, however, rejoiced in their victory, and gave to their general the honourable title of “Malek al Raffer,” or the victorious king.

In the confusion of the fight, the shield and armour bearers of the brave Roland had become separated from their lord, and had lost sight of him, when he flung himself into the midst of the enemies’ squadrons. When the hero fell, and the dispirited army of the Franks sought safety in flight, most of them were hewn down. Only three out of the multitude succeeded, by swiftness of foot, in escaping from death or slavish chains. The three comrades in misfortune fled far into the mountains, among untrodden places, and looked not behind them in their flight; since they believed Death pursued them with hasty feet. Wearied with thirst and the heat of the sun, they lay down to rest under a shady oak; and, after they had breathed a little, they took counsel together what they should now do. Andiol, the sword