No one should try to render this into English--or, indeed, into modern French--verse, but any one who will take the trouble to catch the metre and will remember that each verse in the "leash" ends in the same sound,--aimer, parler, cler, mortel, damnede, mel, deu, suef, nasel,--however the terminal syllables may be spelled, can follow the feeling of the poetry as well as though it were Greek hexameter. He will feel the simple force of the words and action, as he feels Homer. It is the grand style,--the eleventh century:-- Ferut vus ai! Kar le me pardunez! Not a syllable is lost, and always the strongest syllable is chosen. Even the sentiment is monosyllabic and curt:-- Ja est co Rollanz ki tant vus soelt amer! Taillefer had, in such a libretto, the means of producing dramatic effects that the French comedy or the grand opera never approached, and such as made Bayreuth seem thin and feeble. Duke William's barons must have clung to his voice and action as though they were in the very melee, striking at the helmets of gemmed gold. They had all been there, and were to be there again. As the climax approached, they saw the scene itself; probably they had seen it every year, more or less, since they could swing a sword. Taillefer chanted the death of Oliver and of Archbishop Turpin and all the other barons of the rear guard, except Roland, who was left for dead by the Saracens when they fled on hearing the horns of Charlemagne's returning host. Roland came back to consciousness on feeling a Saracen marauder tugging at his sword Durendal. With a blow of his ivory horn--oliphant--he killed the pagan; then feeling death near, he prepared for it. His first thought was for Durendal, his sword, which he could not leave to infidels. In the singular triple repetition which gives more of the same solidity and architectural weight to the verse, he made three attempts to break the sword, with a lament--a plaint--for each. Three times he struck with all his force against the rock; each time the sword rebounded without breaking. The third time-- Rollanz ferit en une pierre bise Plus en abat que jo ne vus sai dire. L'espee cruist ne fruisset ne ne briset Cuntre le ciel amunt est resortie. Quant veit li quens que ne la fraindrat mie Mult dulcement la plainst a sei meisme. "E! Durendal cum ies bele e saintisme! En l'oret punt asez i ad reliques. La dent saint Pierre e del sanc seint Basilie E des chevels mun seignur seint Denisie Del vestment i ad seinte Marie. Il nen est dreiz que paien te baillisent. De chrestiens devez estre servie. Ne vus ait hum ki facet cuardie! Mult larges terres de vus averai cunquises Que Carles tient ki la barbe ad flurie. E li emperere en est e ber e riches."