Excerpt from the Song of Roland (11th
century)
Introductory Note: Oliver and Roland are counts
[high-ranking lords] in the service of Charlemagne (9th century [referred to in
this translation as Charles, King or Emperor]. Charlemagne led the Franks on an invasion of Spain, but
retreated after making little progress against the powerful Muslims (Saracens) that ruled the region. Roland
volunteered to protect Charlemagne's retreat by leading the rearguard forces.
Roland and Oliver's small force was soon surrounded and destroyed by a much
larger army after a valiant battle to the last man. Their heroic and doomed
resistance acquired the same mystique as the last stand of the Spartan 300 had
for the Greeks, or the Alamo has for Americans. This poem was written centuries
after the battle, and presents Roland as a model of chivalry. Roland's sword
has a name, "Durendal." The olifant is a great horn Oliver wants Roland to blow to call
for help from the main part of Charlemagne's army.
81
Upon a peak is
Oliver mounted,
Kingdom of
Spain he sees before him spread,
And Saracen,
so many gathered.
Their helmets
gleam, with gold are jewelled,
Also their
shields, their hauberks orfreyed,
Also their
swords, ensigns on spears fixed.
Rank beyond
rank could not be numbered,
So many there,
no measure could he set.
In his own
heart he's sore astonished,
Fast as he
could, down from the peak hath sped
Comes to the Franks, to them his tale hath said.
82
Says Oliver: "Pagans from there I saw;
Never on earth did any man see more.
Against us their shields a hundred thousand bore,
That laced helms and shining hauberks wore;
And, bolt upright, their bright brown spearheads shone.
Battle we'll have as never was before.
Lords of the Franks, God keep you in valor!
So hold your ground, we be not overborne!"
Then say the Franks "Shame take him that goes off:
If we must die, then perish one and
all."
83
Says Oliver: "Pagans in force abound,
While of us Franks but very few I count;
Comrade Rolland, your horn I pray you sound!
If Charles hear, he'll turn his armies round."
Answers Rolland: "A fool I should be found;
In France the [tale] would perish my renown.
With Durendal I'll lay on thick and stout,
In blood the blade, to its golden hilt, I'll drown.
Felon pagans to the pass shall not come down;
I pledge you now, to death they all are bound.
84
"Comrade Rolland, sound the olifant, I pray;
If Charles hear, the host he'll turn again;
Will succor us our King and baronage."
Answers Rolland: "Never, by God, I say,
For my misdeed shall kinsmen hear the blame,
Nor France the Douce fall into evil fame!
Rather stout blows with Durendal I'll lay,
With my good sword that by my side doth sway;
Till bloodied o'er you shall behold the blade.
Felon pagans are gathered to their shame;
I pledge you now, to death they're doomed to-day."
85
"Comrade Rolland, once sound your olifant!
If Charles hear, where in the pass he stands,
I pledge you now, they'll turn again, the Franks."
"Never, by God," then answers him Rolland,
"Shall it be said by any living man,
That for pagans I took my horn in hand!
Never by me shall men reproach my clan.
When I am come into the battle grand,
And blows lay on, by hundred, by thousand,
Of Durendal bloodied you'll see the brand.
Franks are good men; like vassals brave they'll stand;
Nay, Spanish men from death have no warrant."
86
Says Oliver: "In this I see no
blame;
I have beheld the Saracens of Spain;
Covered with them, the mountains and
the vales.
The wastes I saw, and all the farthest
plains,
A muster great they've made, this
people strange;
We have of men a very little
tale."
Answers Roland: "My anger is
inflamed.
Never, please God His Angels and his
Saints,
Never by me shall Frankish valor fail!
Rather I'll die than shame shall me
attain.
Therefore strike on, the Emperor's love
to gain.
87
Pride hath Roland, wisdom Oliver hath;
And both of them show marvelous courage;
Once they are horsed, once they have
donned their arms,
Rather they'd die than from the battle
pass.
Good are the counts, and their lofty
language.
Felon pagans come cantering in their
wrath.
Says Oliver: "Behold and see,
Rolland,
These are right near, but Charles is
very far.
On the olifant
deign now to sound a blast;
Were the King here, we should not fear
damage.
Only look up towards the Pass of Aspre.
In sorrow there you'll see the whole rereward.
Who does this deed, does no more
afterward."
Answers Rolland: "Utter not such
outrage!
Evil his heart that in thought a
coward!
We shall remain firm in our place
installed;
From us the blows shall come, from us
the assault.
88
When Rolland sees that now must be
combat,
More
fierce he's found than lion or leopard;
The Franks he calls, and Oliver
commands:
"Now say no more, my friends, nor
thou, comrade.
That
Emperor, who left us Franks on guard.
A thousand score stout men he set
apart,
And well he knows, not one will prove
coward.
Man for his lord should suffer with
good heart.
Of bitter cold and great heat bear the
smart.
His blood let drain, and all his flesh
be scarred.
Strike with thy lance, and I with Durendal.
With my good sword that was the King's
reward.
So, if I die, who has it afterward,
A noble vassal's he well may say it
was."
89
From the other part is the Archbishop
Turpin,
He pricks his horse and mounts upon a
hill;
Calling the Franks, sermon to them
begins:
"My lords barons, Charles left us
here for this;
He is our King,
well may we die for him:
To
Christendom good service offering.
Battle you'll have, you all are bound to it.
For with your eyes you see the
Saracens.
Pray for God's grace, confessing Him
your sins!
'For your souls' health, I'll
absolution give
So, though you die, blest martyrs shall
you live.
Thrones you shall win in the great
Paradise."
The Franks dismount,
upon the ground are lit.
That Archbishops God's Benediction
gives,
For their penance, good blows to strike
he bids.
91
To Spanish pass is Rolland now
going
On Veillantif, his good
steed, galloping;
He is well armed, pride is in his bearing,
He goes, so brave, his spear in hand holding,
He goes, its point against the sky turning;
A gonfalon [banner] all white thereon he's pinned,
Down to his hand flutters the golden fringe:
Noble his limbs, his face clear and smiling.
His companion goes after, following,
The men of France their warrant find in him.
Proudly he looks towards the Saracens,
And to the Franks sweetly, himself humbling;
And courteously has said to them this thing:
"My lords barons, go now your pace holding!
Pagans are come great martyrdom seeking;
Noble and fair reward this day shall bring,
Was never won by any Frankish
King."
Upon these words the hosts are come touching.