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"The mountains and the plains, the valleys and the groves, are full of them. Never have we fought against such great odds." "Friend and brother," answered Roland, "say not another word. The king has left us here, with a rear-guard of twenty thousand men, and he esteems every one of us a hero. Do thou strike with thy lance and thy good blade Haultclear. As for me, Durandal shall serve me well.
Ponderous epic poems have made Roland their theme, numbers of ballads and romances tell of his exploits, and the far-off echoes of his ivory horn still sound through the centuries. One account tells that he blew his horn so loud and long that the veins of his neck burst in the strain. Others tell that he split a mountain in twain by a mighty stroke of his sword Durandal.
The world voluntarily opens a path to those who step determinedly. You to your honour? I won't decide but you have the longest in my experience resisted. I have a Durandal to hew the mountain walls; I have a voice for ears, a net for butterflies, a hook for fish, and desperation to plunge into marshes: but the feu follet will not be caught.
Some forty-odd years after Missolin's victory, Charlemagne went with his twelve knights and his great army through Tarbes on his way to Spain to fight the Moors. And when that ill-starred expedition was defeated and its warriors bold were fleeing back to France, Roland so the story goes finding no pass in the Pyrénées where he needed one desperately, cleaved one with his sword Durandal.
Then it becomes a recital of the golden legend the golden legend of aviation: he stops the enemy's bullets with his fingers; Roland would write in that style to the beautiful Aude: "Met three Saracens, Durandal cleft two, the third tried to settle the affair with his bow, but the arrow broke on the cord."
Story 15. More adventures of Ogier the Dane. Story 16. The sons of Aymon. Story 17. Malagis the wizard Story 18. A Roland for an Oliver Story 19. The Princes of Cathay. Story 20. How Reinold fared to Cathay. Story 21. The quest of Roland Story 22. In the gardens of Falerina. Story 23. Bradamant, the warrior maiden. Story 24. The contest of Durandal. Story 25. The battle of Roncesvalles.
He took the ivory horn in one hand, and Durandal in the other, and went up a little hill that lies toward Spain. He sat down beneath a pine tree where were four great blocks of marble. He looked at the blade Durandal. "Ha, Durandal," he said, "how bright and white thou art! Thou shinest and flamest against the sun! Many countries have I conquered with thee, and now for thee I have great grief.
"To do so would be to act as a craven," answered Roland. "Never shall it be said that I feared a foe. I will strike strong strokes with my sword, Durandal. Ill shall it fare with the Pagan traitors." "Comrade Roland," again said Oliver, "now blow thy horn. Charlemagne will hear it, and he will make his host return." "Never," answered Roland, "shall my kinsmen upbraid me, or be blamed for me.
In his history of Bavaria Aventin speaks of this monster. To Roland, the nephew of Charlemagne, the legends attributed prodigious strength; and, dying in the valley of Roncesveaux, he broke his good sword "Durandal" by striking it against a rock, making a breach, which is stilled called the "Breche de Roland."
Better would it be to destroy thee than to have thee fall into the hands of the Pagan folk." With great effort he raised himself on his feet again. Ten times he smote with Durandal the great rock before him. But the sword was bright and whole as ever, while the rock was split in pieces. Then the hero lay down upon the grass, with his face toward the foe. He put the sword and the horn under him.
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