CCXII.

"Sweet friend," he cried, "Rollánd, thou art no more: Oh! may thy soul have place in Paradise! Who gave thee death brought grievous shame to France. Such is my grief, I would not longer live. My kinsmen died for me! I pray Our Lord, The Blessed Mary's son, before I reach Cizra's defiles, from mortal life to take My soul away, and let it rest with theirs. I would my body lay beside their own!" And, weeping sore, he tears his hoary beard.... Then said Duke Naimes:--"What cruel pain is Carle's!" Aoi.