When Count Rollánd beheld his Peers lie dead,

And Olivier, that friend so tenderly

Beloved, his soul by pity was o'erflowed;

Tears from his eyes gush out, his countenance

Turns pale; distressed, he can no longer stand.

Would he or not, he swooned and fell to earth.

The Archbishop said: "Baron, what woe is yours!"

Aoi.