Page:The Mediaeval Mind Vol 1.djvu/583

CHAP XXIII ill end! Land of France, sweet land, to-day bereft of barons of high prize! Barons of France! for me I see you dying. I cannot save or defend you! God be your aid, who never lies! Oliver, brother, you I must not fail. I shall die of grief, if no one slay me! Sir comrade, let us strike again."

Roland and Oliver are almost alone, and Oliver receives a death-stroke. With his last strength he slays his slayer, shouts his defiance, and calls Roland to his aid. He strikes on blindly as Roland comes and looks into his face;—and then might you have seen Roland swoon on his horse, and Oliver wounded to death. "He had bled so much, that his eyes were troubled, and he could not see to recognize any mortal man. As he met his comrade, he struck him on his helmet a blow that cut it shear in twain, though the sword did not touch the head. At this Roland looked at him, and asked him soft and low: 'Sir comrade, did you mean that? It is Roland, who loves you well. You have not defied me.'

"Says Oliver, 'Now I hear you speak; I did not see you; may the Lord God see you! I have struck you; for which pardon me.'"

Roland replied: "I was not hurt. I pardon you here and before God."

"At this word they bent over each other, and in such love they parted." Oliver feels his death-anguish at hand; sight and hearing fail him: he sinks from his horse and lies on the earth; he confesses his sins, with his two hands joined toward heaven. He prays God to grant him Paradise, and blesses Charles and sweet France, and his comrade Roland above all men. Stretched on the ground the count lies dead.

A little after, when Roland and Turpin the stout arch-bishop have made their last charge, and the paynim have withdrawn, and the archbishop too lies on the ground, just breathing; then it is that Roland gathers the bodies of the peers and carries them one by one to lay them before the archbishop for his absolution. He finds Oliver's body, and tightly straining it to his heart, lays it with the rest before the archbishop, whose dying breath is blessing and absolving VOL. I