Chapter LXXXVII

Olivier said:--"To me there seems no shame;
I have beheld the Moors of Spain; they swarm
O'er mountains, vales and lands, hide all the plains;
Great is this stranger host; our number small."
Rolland replies:--"The more my ardor grows.
God and his [blessed] angels grant that France
Lose naught of her renown through my default.
Better to die than in dishonor [live.]
The more we strike the more Carle's love we gain!"
Aoi.

LXXXVIII.

Rolland is brave and Olivier is wise;
Both knights of wond'rous courage--and in arms
And mounted on their steeds, they both will die
Ere they will shun the fight. Good are the Counts
And proud their words.--The Pagan felons ride
In fury on!--"Rolland," said Olivier,
"One moment, look! Our foes so close, and Carle
Afar from us--you have not deigned to blow
Your horn! If came the king, no hurt were ours.
Cast your eyes toward the great defiles of Aspre;
There see this most unhappy rear-guard. [Those
Who here fight, ne'er shall fight on other fields."]
Rolland retorts:--"Speak not such shameful words.
Woe unto him who bears a coward's heart
Within his breast. There firm shall we remain;
The combat and the blows from us shall come."
Aoi.