CXXIII.

A wise and valiant knight was Grandonie, Virtuous and fearless vassal. 'Mid his way Encountering Count Rollánd, though never seen Before, at once he knew 'twas he, as well By his proud mien and noble beauty, as By his fair countenance and lofty look. Awe-struck, despite himself, he vainly tries To fly, but rooted to the spot he stays. The Count Rollánd smites him so skillfully, He splits in two the nazal, helm, nose, mouth, And teeth, the body and mailed-armor, then Hews through the golden selle, both silver-flaps; With a still deeper stroke the courser's back Is gashed. So both are slain past remedy. The men of Spain cry out all sorrowful; But say the French:--"Well our defender strikes." Aoi.