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| | Medieval Sourcebook: The Song of Roland [O'Hagan Translation) |
 | | Count Roland rideth the battle through, With Durindana, to cleave and hew; Havoc fell of the foe he made, Saracen corse upon corse was laid, The field all flowed with the bright blood shed; Roland, to corselet and arm, was red Red his steed to the neck and flank. |
 | | Roland and Olivier then are seen To lash and hew with their falchions keen; With his lance the archbishop thrusts and slays, And the numbers slain we may well appraise; In charter and writ is the tale expressed Beyond four thousand, saith the geste. |
 | | Roland's pride is of such a height, Not to be vanquished by mortal wight; Hurl we our missiles, and hold aloof." And the word they spake, they put in proof, They flung, with all their strength and craft, Javelin, barb, and plumed shaft. |
| www.fordham.edu /halsall/basis/roland-ohag.html (17552 words) |
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