But soon Duke Naimes doth by him stand—­
     No better vassal in all his band. 
     “You have seen and heard it all, O sire,
     Count Roland waxeth much in ire. 
     On him the choice for the rear-guard fell,
     And where is baron could speed so well? 
     Yield him the bow that your arm hath bent,
     And let good succor to him be lent.” 
     The Emperor reached it forth, and lo! 
     He gave, and Roland received, the bow.

     LXIV

     “Fair Sir Nephew, I tell thee free. 
     Half of my host will I leave with thee.” 
     “God be my judge,” was the count’s reply,
     “If ever I thus my race belie. 
     But twenty thousand with me shall rest,
     Bravest of all your Franks and best;
     The mountain passes in safety tread,
     While I breathe in life you have nought to dread.”

     LXV

     Count Roland sprang to a hill-top’s height,
     And donned his peerless armor bright;
     Laced his helm, for a baron made;
     Girt Durindana, gold-hilted blade;
     Around his neck he hung the shield,
     With flowers emblazoned was the field;
     Nor steed but Veillantif will ride;
     And he grasped his lance with its pennon’s pride. 
     White was the pennon, with rim of gold;
     Low to the handle the fringes rolled. 
     Who are his lovers men now may see;
     And the Franks exclaim, “We will follow thee.”

     LXVI

     Roland hath mounted his charger on;
     Sir Olivier to his side hath gone;
     Gerein and his fellow in arms, Gerier;
     Otho the Count, and Berengier,
     Samson, and with him Anseis old,
     Gerard of Roussillon, the bold. 
     Thither the Gascon Engelier sped;
     “I go,” said Turpin, “I pledge my head;”
     “And I with thee,” Count Walter said;
     “I am Roland’s man, to his service bound.” 
     So twenty thousand knights were found.

     LXVII

     Roland beckoned Count Walter then. 
     “Take of our Franks a thousand men;
     Sweep the heights and the passes clear,
     That the Emperor’s host may have nought to fear.” 
     “I go,” said Walter, “at your behest,”
     And a thousand Franks around him pressed. 
     They ranged the heights and passes through,
     Nor for evil tidings backward drew,
     Until seven hundred swords outflew. 
     The Lord of Belferna’s land, that day,
     King Almaris met him in deadly fray.

     LXVIII

     Through Roncesvalles the march began;
     Ogier, the baron, led the van;
     For them was neither doubt nor fear,
     Since Roland rested to guard the rear,
     With twenty thousand in full array: 
     Theirs the battle—­be God their stay. 
     Gan knows all; in his felon heart
     Scarce hath he courage to play his part.