. Frithjof, the viking of Norway : and Roland, the paladin of France. Roland alone, but their strength and valour. Buteven as they ply the deadly work, griefgnaws at their hearts, and they thinkwith anguish, * O God, how our friendsfall! And still they pursue the Saracens,through blood that reaches to theirhorses bellies. Their swords of finesteel are broken or blunted ; their lanceshave long been shattered ; they have noweapons left ; they fight with the stumps,they break heads with their horns, theirclarions, till the Paynims loudly curse theday they came to the fateful pass ofRoncevaux. The
. Frithjof, the viking of Norway : and Roland, the paladin of France. Roland alone, but their strength and valour. Buteven as they ply the deadly work, griefgnaws at their hearts, and they thinkwith anguish, * O God, how our friendsfall! And still they pursue the Saracens,through blood that reaches to theirhorses bellies. Their swords of finesteel are broken or blunted ; their lanceshave long been shattered ; they have noweapons left ; they fight with the stumps,they break heads with their horns, theirclarions, till the Paynims loudly curse theday they came to the fateful pass ofRoncevaux. There are still three hundred swordsavailable, and they work to such goodpurpose that the Saracens fly before them,nor ever stop till they reach the spotwhence Marsilius watches the battle, blackfury at his heart, and cry to him for those swords, the best in theFrench host, there is none that compareswith Rolands noble Durendal, unless it beOlivers sword. For an instant Rolandpauses and watches his friend, and a waveof great tenderness sweeps over his STEEL HELMET WITH NO3E-QUAR0 (NASEL).{From Seals, Xlltk Century.)
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