“Thierry sees he is wounded in the face – bright blood is falling on the grassy plain – hits Pinabel upon his smooth steel casque and cracks it, splits it open to the nasal, and busts his skull, so brains come spilling out, then wrenches free and lets him fall down dead.” […]
“When he hears the angel’s blessed voice, King Charles no longer is in fear or dread of death. His mind clears and his energy returns. With France’s sword he smashes the emir. He bursts apart the casque where jewels blaze, then cleaves his skull – the brains come spilling out – his face, clear down into his whitish beard, and throws him down, a corpse beyond recall.” […]
“Almighty God forbid, and all His angels, that France should lose her fame because of me! I’d much prefer to die than come to shame; for fighting well, the emperor will love us.” […]
“He turned him over to a hundred comrades, the best and worst together, from the kitchen. These men plucked out his beard and moustache, and each one hit him four times with his fist.” […]
“When Roland hears this, God! Is he enraged! He spurs his horse and lets him run all out and goes to strike the count with all his force; he breaks his shield and lays his hauberk open and pierces through his chest and cracks the bones and cuts the spine completely.” […]
“Count Roland, racked with agony and pain and great chagrin, now sounds his ivory horn. Bright blood leaps in a torrent from his mouth. The temple has been ruptured in his brain. The horn he holds emits a piercing blast.” […]
“On being struck so, Roland studies him, then asked him in a soft and gentle voice: “My lord companion, did you mean to do that? It’s Roland, who has been your friend for so long. You gave no sign that you had challenged me.”” […]
““I cannot love your kind,” replies Count Roland. “Your way is that of heresy and pride.”” […]
“Say, sire, what grief doth your heart oppress?”
“To ask,” he said, “brings worse distress; I cannot but weep for heaviness. […]
“Down through the saddle with gold inlaid, till sank in the living horse the blade, severed the spine where no joint was found, and horse and rider lay dead on ground.”
[…]
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