Now when Rollánd the battle sees at hand,

More than a leopard's or a lion's pride

He shows. He calls the French and Olivier:

"Companion, friend, pray, speak of this no more.

The Emperor who left his French in trust

To us, has chos'n those twenty thousand men.

Right well he knows none has a coward's soul.

A man should suffer hurt for his good lord,

Endure great cold or scorching heat, and give

Even to his flesh and blood—Strike with your lance,

And I with Durendal, my trusty sword,

Carle's gift. If here I die, may he who wins

It, say:—'Twas once the sword of a brave knight."

Aoi.