Page:The Song of Roland.djvu/110

 Clear was the night, the moon shone radiant. Charles laid him down, but sorrow for Rollant And Oliver, most heavy on him he had, For ’s dozen peers, for all the Frankish band He had left dead in bloody Rencesvals; He could not help, but wept and waxèd mad, And prayed to God to be their souls’ Warrant. Weary that King, for grief he’s very sad; He falls on sleep, he can no more withstand. Through all those meads they slumber then, the Franks; Is not a horse can any longer stand, Who would eat grass, he takes it lying flat. He has learned much, can understand their pangs.

Charles, like a man worn out with labour, slept. Saint Gabriel the Lord to him hath sent, Whom as a guard o’er the Emperour he set; Stood all night long that angel by his head. In a vision announcèd he to him then A battle, should be fought against him yet, Significance of griefs demonstrated. Charlès looked up towards the sky, and there Thunders and winds and blowing gales beheld, And hurricanes and marvellous tempests; Lightnings and flames he saw in readiness, That speedily on all his people fell; Apple and ash, their spear-shafts all burnèd, Also their shields, e’en the golden bosses, Crumbled the shafts of their trenchant lances, Crushed their hauberks and all their steel helmets. His chevaliers he saw in great distress. Bears and leopards would feed upon them next; Adversaries, dragons, wyverns, serpents, Griffins were there, thirty thousand, no less, Nor was there one but on some Frank it set. And the Franks cried: “Ah! Charlemagne, give help!”