Page:The Song of Roland.djvu/85

 Says Oliver: “Now by my beard, hereafter If I may see my gentle sister Alde, She in her arms, I swear, shall never clasp you.” AOI.

Then says Rollanz: “Wherefore so wroth with me?” He answers him: “Comrade, it was your deed: Vassalage comes by sense, and not folly; Prudence more worth is than stupidity. Here are Franks dead, all for your trickery; No more service to Carlun may we yield. My lord were here now, had you trusted me, And fought and won this battle then had we, Taken or slain were the king Marsilie. In your prowess, Rollanz, no good we’ve seen! Charlès the great in vain your aid will seek— None such as he till God His Judgement speak;— Here must you die, and France in shame be steeped; Here perishes our loyal company, Before this night great severance and grief.” AOI.

That Archbishop has heard them, how they spoke, His horse he pricks with his fine spurs of gold, Coming to them he takes up his reproach: “Sir Oliver, and you, Sir Rollant, both, For God I pray, do not each other scold! No help it were to us, the horn to blow, But, none the less, it may be better so; The King will come, with vengeance that he owes; These Spanish men never away shall go. Our Franks here, each descending from his horse, Will find us dead, and limb from body torn; They’ll take us hence, on biers and litters borne; With pity and with grief for us they’ll mourn;