Beneath a pine was his resting-place, To the land of Spain hath he turned his face, On his memory rose full many a thought-- Of the lands he won and the fields he fought; Of his gentle France, of his kin and line; Of his nursing father, King Karl benign;-- He may not the tear and sob control, Nor yet forgets he his parting soul.

To G.o.d's compa.s.sion he makes his cry: "O Father true, who canst not lie, Who didst Lazarus raise unto life agen, And Daniel shield in the lions' den; Shield my soul from its peril, due For the sins I sinned my lifetime through."

He did his right-hand glove uplift-- Saint Gabriel took from his hand the gift; Then drooped his head upon his breast, And with clasped hands he went to rest.

G.o.d from on high sent down to him One of his angel Cherubim-- Saint Michael of Peril of the sea, Saint Gabriel in company-- From heaven they came for that soul of price, And they bore it with them to Paradise.

PART III

THE REPRISALS

THE CHASTIs.e.m.e.nT OF THE SARACENS

CXCVIII

Dead is Roland; his soul with G.o.d.

While to Roncesvalles the Emperor rode, Where neither path nor track he found, Nor open s.p.a.ce 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 G.o.d," 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 G.o.d," said Karl, "they are far away!

Yet for right and honor, 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 G.o.d'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 n.o.ble 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 G.o.d to pray That he make the sun in his course delay, r.e.t.a.r.d 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; G.o.d seeth the flower of France laid low; Thy vengeance wreak on the felon crew."

The Emperor sprang to his steed anew.

CCI

G.o.d wrought for Karl a miracle: In his place in heaven the sun stood still.

The heathens fled, the Franks pursued, And in Val Tenebres 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.

Enc.u.mbered with their armor's weight, Sank the most to the bottom, straight; Others floated adown the stream; And the luckiest drank their fill, I deem: All were in marvellous anguish drowned.

Cry the Franks, "In Roland your fate ye found."

CCII

As he sees the doom of the heathen host, Slain are some and drowned the most, (Great spoil have won the Christian knights), The gentle king from his steed alights, And kneels, his thanks unto G.o.d to pour: The sun had set as he rose once more.

"It is time to rest," the Emperor cried, "And to Roncesvalles 'twere late to ride.

Our steeds are weary and spent with pain; Strip them of saddle and bridle-rein, Free let them browse on the verdant mead."

"Sire," say the Franks, "it were well indeed."

CCIII

The Emperor hath his quarters ta'en, And the Franks alight in the vacant plain; The saddles from their steeds they strip, And the bridle-reins from their heads they slip; They set them free on the green gra.s.s fair, Nor can they render them other care.

On the ground the weary warriors slept; Watch nor vigil that night they kept.

CCIV

In the mead the Emperor made his bed, With his mighty spear beside his head, Nor will he doff his arms to-night, But lies in his broidered hauberk white.

Laced is his helm, with gold inlaid, Girt on Joyeuse, the peerless blade, Which changes thirty times a day The brightness of its varying ray.

Nor may the lance unspoken be Which pierced our Saviour on the tree; Karl hath its point--so G.o.d him graced-- Within his golden hilt enchased.

And for this honor and boon of heaven, The name Joyeuse to the sword was given; The Franks may hold it in memory.

Thence came "_Montjoie_," their battle-cry, And thence no race with them may vie.

CCV

Clear was the night, and the fair moon shone.

But grief weighed heavy King Karl upon; He thought of Roland and Olivier, Of his Franks and every gallant peer, Whom he left to perish in Roncesvale, Nor can he stint but to weep and wail, Imploring G.o.d their souls to bless,-- Till, overcome with long distress, He slumbers at last for heaviness.

The Franks are sleeping throughout the meads; Nor rest on foot can the weary steeds-- They crop the herb as they stretch them p.r.o.ne.-- Much hath he learned who hath sorrow known.

CCVI

The Emperor slumbered like man forespent, While G.o.d his angel Gabriel sent The couch of Carlemaine to guard.

All night the angel kept watch and ward, And in a vision to Karl presaged A coming battle against him waged.

'Twas shown in fearful augury; The king looked upward to the sky-- There saw he lightning, and hail, and storm, Wind and tempest in fearful form.

A dread apparel of fire and flame, Down at once on his host they came.

Their ashen lances the flames enfold, And their bucklers in to the k.n.o.bs of gold; Grated the steel of helm and mail.

Yet other perils the Franks a.s.sail, And his cavaliers are in deadly strait.