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.