Page:The Song of Roland.djvu/90

 Before Rollanz the pagans scatter, frightened. Says the Archbishop: “You deal now very wisely! Such valour should he shew that is bred knightly, And beareth arms, and a good charger rideth; In battle should be strong and proud and sprightly; Or otherwise he is not worth a shilling, Should be a monk in one of those old minsters, Where, day by day, he’ld pray for us poor sinners.” Answers Rollant: “Strike on; no quarter give them!” Upon these words Franks are again beginning; Very great loss they suffer then, the Christians.

The man who knows, for him there’s no prison, In such a fight with keen defence lays on; Wherefore the Franks are fiercer than lions. Marsile you’d seen go as a brave baron, Sitting his horse, the which he calls Gaignon; He spurs it well, going to strike Bevon, That was the lord of Beaune and of Dijon, His shield he breaks, his hauberk has undone, So flings him dead, without condition; Next he hath slain Yvoerie and Ivon, Also with them Gerard of Russillon. The count Rollanz, being not far him from, To th’ pagan says: “Confound thee our Lord God! So wrongfully you’ve slain my companions, A blow you’ll take, ere we apart be gone, And of my sword the name I’ll bid you con.” He goes to strike him, as a brave baron, And his right hand the count clean slices off; Then takes the head of Jursaleu the blond; That was the son of king Marsilion. Pagans cry out: “Assist us now, Mahom! God of our race, avenge us on Carlon!