THE SCENE: After leaving his nephew Roland in charge of protecting a Spanish mountain pass, the mighty Charlemagne is troubled by a sense of foreboding — and reveals himself as a king uncommonly in touch with his own feelings.
THE TEXT: To their own great land they are drawing nigh,
And they look on the fields of Gascony.
They think of their homes and their manors there,
Their gentle spouses and damsels fair.
Is none but for pity the tear lets fall;
But the anguish of Karl is beyond them all.
His sister’s son at the gates of Spain
Smites on his heart, and he weeps amain.
Beneath his mantle his face he hides.
Naimes, the duke, at his bridle rides.
“Say, sire, what grief doth your heart oppress?”
“To ask,” he said, “brings worse distress;
I cannot but weep for heaviness.
By Gan the ruin of France is wrought.
In an angel’s vision, last night, methought
He wrested forth from my hand the spear:
‘Twas he gave Roland to guard the rear.
God! should I lose him, my nephew dear,
Whom I left on a foreign soil behind,
His peer on earth I shall never find!”
Karl the Great cannot choose but weep,
For him hath his host compassion deep;
And for Roland, a marvellous boding dread.
- The Song of Roland, 11th Century AD
