A wise and valiant knight was Grandonie,

Virtuous and fearless vassal. 'Mid his way

Encountering Count Rollánd, though never seen

Before, at once he knew 'twas he, as well

By his proud mien and noble beauty, as

By his fair countenance and lofty look.

Awe-struck, despite himself, he vainly tries

To fly, but rooted to the spot he stays.

The Count Rollánd smites him so skillfully,

He splits in two the nazal, helm, nose, mouth,

And teeth, the body and mailed-armor, then

Hews through the golden selle, both silver-flaps;

With a still deeper stroke the courser's back

Is gashed. So both are slain past remedy.

The men of Spain cry out all sorrowful;

But say the French:—"Well our defender strikes."


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