PART III.

THE REPRISALS.

The Chastisement of the Saracens.

CXCVIII.

DEAD is Roland; his soul with God.
While to Roncesvalles the Emperor rode,
Where neither path nor track he found,
Nor open space nor rood of ground,
But was strewn with Frank or heathen slain,
"Where art thou, Roland?" he cried in pain:
"The Archbishop where, and Olivier,
Gerein and his brother in arms, Gerier?

Count Otho where, and Berengier,

Ivon and Ivor, so dear to me;

And Engelier of Gascony;

Samson the duke, and Anseis the bold;
Gerard, of Roussillon, the old;

My peers, the twelve whom I left behind?
In vain !-No answer may he find.

"O God," he cried, "what grief is mine That I was not in front of this battle line!".

For very wrath his beard he tore,

His knights and barons weeping sore;
Aswoon full fifty thousand fall;

Duke Naimes hath pity and dole for all.

CXCIX.

Nor knight nor baron was there to see
But wept full fast, and bitterly;

For son and brother their tears descend,
For lord and liege, for kin and friend;
Aswoon all numberless they fell,
But Naimes did gallantly and well.
He spake the first to the Emperor—
"Look onward, sire, two leagues before,
See the dust from the ways arise,—
There the strength of the heathen lies.
Ride on ; avenge you for this dark day.”
"O God," said Karl, "they are far away!
Yet for right and honour, the sooth ye say.
Fair France's flower they have torn from me."
To Otun and Gebouin beckoned he,

To Tybalt of Rheims, and Milo the count.
"Guard the battle-field, vale, and mount-
Leave the dead as ye see them lie;
Watch, that nor lion nor beast come nigh,
Nor on them varlet or squire lay hand;
None shall touch them, 'tis my command,
Till with God's good grace we return again."
They answered lowly, in loving strain,
"Great lord, fair sire, we will do your hest,"
And a thousand warriors with them rest.

CC.

The Emperor bade his clarions ring,
Marched with his host the noble king.

They came at last on the heathens' trace,
And all together pursued in chase;
But the king of the falling eve was ware:
He alighted down in a meadow fair,
Knelt on the earth unto God to pray
That He make the sun in his course delay,
Retard the night, and prolong the day.
Then his wonted angel who with him spake,
Swiftly to Karl did answer make,
"Ride on! Light shall not thee forego;
God seeth the flower of France laid low;
Thy vengeance wreak on the felon crew."
The Emperor sprang to his steed anew.

CCI.

God wrought for Karl a miracle :
In his place in heaven the sun stood still.
The heathens fled, the Franks pursued,
And in Val Tenèbres beside them stood;
Towards Saragossa the rout they drave,
And deadly were the strokes they gave.
They barred against them path and road;
In front the water of Ebro flowed:
Strong was the current, deep and large;
Was neither shallop, nor boat, nor barge.
With a cry to their idol Termagaunt,
The heathens plunge, but with scanty vaunt.
Encumbered with their armour's weight,
Sank the most to the bottom, straight;
Others floated adown the stream;

And the luckiest drank their fill, I deem :