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." Rollánd 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.

Rollánd 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!--"Rollánd," 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."] Rollànd 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.