The Count Rollánd calls Olivier: "You know,

Companion, sire, Engelier is no more....

No better Knight had we"—The Count replies:

"God grant that I avenge him well!" He drives

His golden spurs into his charger's flanks;

And waving Halteclere's blood dripping blade,

The Pagan he assails, and deals a blow....

O'erthrown is Climorin. The fiends of hell

Bear off his soul. The Knight then slays the Duke

Alphaïen, beheads Escababi,

Unhorses seven Arabs with such skill

They rise no more to fight. Then said Rollánd:

"Wroth is my sire, and by my side achieves

Renown! by such good blows Carl's love is gained.

Strike, Chevaliers! strike on!"—he cries aloud.


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