CCVI.

Arrived upon the field of Ronceval, Where lay so many slain, Carle wept, and said Unto the French:--"Seigneurs, move slowly here; For I alone, will forward go in search Of my fair nephew lost among the dead. Erst when at Aix on Christmas' solemn feast, My valiant bachelors, in warlike deeds Their exploits vaunting, I could hear Rollánd Say, should he ever die on foreign soil, Before his peers and men he should be found Facing the foe, true Baron, conqu'ror still." A few steps further than a staff's throw, Carle Far in advance of all, ascends a hill. Aoi.