Page:The Song of Roland.djvu/108

 “Charles, canter on! Light needst not thou await. The flower of France, as God knows well, is slain; Thou canst be avenged upon that crimeful race.” Upon that word mounts the Emperour again. AOI.

For Charlemagne a great marvel God planned: Making the sun still in his course to stand. So pagans fled, and chased them well the Franks Through the Valley of Shadows, close in hand; Towards Sarraguce by force they chased them back, And as they went with killing blows attacked: Barred their highways and every path they had. The River Sebre before them reared its bank, ’Twas very deep, marvellous current ran; No barge thereon nor dromond nor caland. A god of theirs invoked they, Tervagant. And then leaped in, but there no warrant had. The armèd men more weighty were for that, Many of them down to the bottom sank, Downstream the rest floated as they might hap; So much water the luckiest of them drank, That all were drowned, with marvellous keen pangs. “An evil day,” cry Franks, “ye saw Rollant!”

When Charlès sees that pagans all are dead, Some of them slain, the greater part drownèd; (Whereby great spoils his chevaliers collect) That gentle King upon his feet descends, Kneels on the ground, his thanks to God presents. When he once more rises, the sun is set. Says the Emperour: “Time is to pitch our tents;