CXLIX.

Olivier feels that he is hurt to death. No vengeance can suffice him; Baron-like He strikes amid the press, cuts shields embossed And ashen shafts, and spears, feet, shoulders, wrists And breasts of horsemen. He who saw him thus Dismember Saracens, corse over corse Heap on the ground, would of a vassal true Remembrance keep. Nor does he now forget The rallying cry of Carle:--"Montjoie!" he cries Loudly and clear; then calls Rollánd, his friend And compeer:--"Sire companion, stand by me! This day our breaking hearts forever part!" Aoi.