Page:The Song of Roland.djvu/56

 High are the peaks, the valleys shadowful, Swarthy the rocks, the narrows wonderful. Franks passed that day all very sorrowful, Fifteen leagues round the rumour of them grew. When they were come, and Terra Major knew, Saw Gascony their land and their seigneur’s, Remembering their fiefs and their honours, Their little maids, their gentle wives and true; There was not one that shed not tears for rue. Beyond the rest Charles was of anguish full, In Spanish Pass he’d left his dear nephew; Pity him seized; he could but weep for rue. AOI.

The dozen peers are left behind in Spain, Franks in their band a thousand score remain, No fear have these, death hold they in disdain. That Emperour goes into France apace; Under his cloke he fain would hide his face. Up to his side comes cantering Duke Neimes, Says to the King: “What grief upon you weighs?” Charles answers him: “He’s wrong that question makes. So great my grief I cannot but complain. France is destroyed, by the device of Guene: This night I saw, by an angel’s vision plain, Between my hands he brake my spear in twain; Great fear I have, since Rollant must remain: I’ve left him there, upon a border strange. God! If he’s lost, I’ll not outlive that shame.” AOI.

Charlès the great, he cannot but deplore. And with him Franks an hundred thousand mourn, Who for Rollanz have marvellous remorse.