The Song of Roland

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Chatto & Windus, 1924 - Epic poetry, French - 143 pages
 

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Page x - Taillefer qui moult bien chantout Sor un cheval qui tost alout Devant le due alout chantant De Karlemaigne et de Rollant E d'Oliver e des vassals Qui morurent en...
Page 126 - These words mean noth1ng to me. May it not please God nor his saints nor his angels that I remain alive after Roland." Her colour leaves her, she falls at the feet of Charlemaine and she dies straightway ; may God have mercy on her soul ! The French barons weep and lament for her.
Page 82 - ... Saint Gabriel with them, and they bear the soul of the Count to Paradise. CLXXVII Roland is dead and God has taken his soul into heaven. The Emperor reaches Roncesvalles. There is not a track nor a path, nor a yard nor even a foot of empty ground without a Frank or a pagan lying on it. Charles calls out: "Where are you, fair nephew? Where is the Archbishop? And Count Oliver? Where is Gerin? And his companion Gerer? Where is Otun? And Count Berenger? Ivun and Yvoerie, who were so dear to me? What...
Page xxii - E apollin, dunt'il mie rien unt. This Romance, which in the Ms. has no title, may possibly be an older copy of one, which is frequently quoted by Du Cange under the title of Le Roman de Roncevaux. The author's name was Turold, as appears from the last line. Ci fait le geste que turold
Page xix - J?at he wer at home; I will fight with them that vs hathe sought. And or I se my brest blod throughe my harnes ryn blow neuer horn for no help then.
Page xx - Then was the Soudan woo in his hert, That so many of his men were slayn hym about.
Page 38 - ... say not so. When the Emperor left us his Franks he set apart such a twenty thousand of men that, certes, among them is no coward. For his liege lord a man ought to suffer all hardship, and endure great heat and great cold, and give both his blood and his body. Lay on with thy lance, and I will smite with Durendal, my good sword that the King gave me. If I die here, may he to whom it shall fall, say, 'This was the sword of goodly vassal.
Page xxi - And fey wer woundid, it is mor pete. 1036 he praid hem rest, and houe ]>er stille: "herkenyt now, rist here vnto they cum vs till, yonder is a gret host and a compony As euer cristyne man se 'with his eye; and we ar but few, and hathe fought long 1 , our horse wery, And we not- strong*.
Page 80 - Roland struck upon the dark stone and shattered it in more pieces than I can tell you. The sword grates, but it does not splinter nor break; it rebounds upwards towards the sky. When the count perceives that he cannot break it, he laments over it very gently to himself : " Ah ! Durendal, how beautiful and holy thou art ! In thy gilded pommel are many relics : Saint Peter's tooth and some of St. Basil's blood, some of the hairs of my lord Saint Denis and a piece of the garment of holy Mary.

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