The Pagans put their Moorish hauberks on; The greater part are triply lined; they lace Their helms of Sarraguce, gird to their thighs Swords of Vienna steel; bright are their shields; Their lances from Valence; their banners white And blue and crimson. Mules and sumpter-beasts Are left behind. They mount their battle steeds, And forward press in closely serried lines. Clear was the day, and brilliant was the sun; No armor but reflected back the light. A thousand clarions sound their cheering blasts So loud, the French can hear--. Says Olivier: "Rolland, companion, hearken! Soon, methinks, We shall have battle with the Saracens!" To which Rolland: "God grant it may be so. Here must we do our duty to our King; A man should for his Lord and for his cause Distress endure, and bear great heat and cold, Lose all, even to his very hair and skin! 'Tis each man's part to strike with mighty blows, That evil songs of us may ne'er be sung. The wrong cause have the Pagans, we the right. No ill example e'er shall come from me." Aoi. PRELUDE TO THE GREAT BATTLE. LXXXI. Olivier from the summit of a hill On his right hand looks o'er a grassy vale, And views the Pagans' onward marching hordes; Then straight he called his faithful friend Rolland: "From Spain a distant rumbling noise I hear, So many hauberks white and flashing helms I see!--This will inflame our French men's hearts. The treason is the work of Ganelon Who named us for this post before the King." "Hush! Olivier!"--the Count Rolland replies, "'Tis my step-father, speak no other word." Aoi. LXXXII. Count Olivier is posted on a hill From whence Spain's Kingdom he descries, and all The swarming host of Saracens; their helms So bright bedecked with gold, and their great shields, Their 'broidered hauberks, and their waving flags, He cannot count the squadrons; in such crowds They come, his sight reached not unto their end. Then all bewildered he descends the hill, Rejoins the French, and all to them relates. Aoi. LXXXIII. Said Olivier: "I have seen Pagans more Than eyes e'er saw upon the earth; at least One hundred thousand warriors armed with shields, In their white hauberks clad, with helmets laced, Lances in rest, and burnished brazen spears. Battle ye will have, such as ne'er was before. French Lords, may God inspire you with his strength! Stand firm your ground, that we may not succumb." The French say: "Cursed be those who fly the field! Ready to die, not one shall fail you here." Aoi. ROLAND'S PRIDE. LXXXIV.