hop silences them, bidding Roland
blow his horn. Placing Olifant to his lips, the hero, after drawing a
powerful breath, blows so mighty a blast that it re-echoes thirty
miles away.

This sound, striking Charlemagne's ear, warns him that his army is in
danger, although Ganelon insists Roland is hunting. While blowing a
second blast, Roland makes so mighty an effort that he actually bursts
the blood-vessels in his temples, and the Frenchmen, hearing that
call, aver with awe that he would never call that way unless in dire
peril. Ganelon, however, again insists that his step-son is in no
danger and is merely coursing a hare.

With deadly travail, in stress and pain,
Count Roland sounded the mighty strain.
Forth from his mouth the bright blood sprang,
And his temples burst for the very pang.

On and onward was borne the blast,
Till Karl hath heard as the gorge he passed,
And Naimes and all his men of war.
"It is Roland's horn," said the Emperor,
"And, save in battle, he had not blown."

With blood pouring from mouth and ears, Roland sounds his horn a third
and last time, producing so long and despairing a note, that Naimes
vows the French must be at the last extremity, and that unless they
hurry they will not find any alive! Bidding all his horns sound as a
signal that he is coming, Charlemagne--after ordering Ganelon bound
and left in charge of the baggage train--leads his men back to Spain
to Roland's rescue.

As the day is already far advanced, helmets and armors glitter beneath
the rays of the setting sun as the Frenchmen spur along, tears
coursing down their cheeks, for they apprehend what must have befallen
Roland, who was evidently suffering when he blew that third blast!

_The Rout._ Meanwhile, casting his eyes over the battle-field, now
strewn with corpses, Roland mourns his fallen companions, praying God
to let their souls rest in Paradise on beds of flowers. Then, turning
to Oliver, he proposes that they fight on as long as breath remains in
their bodies, before he plunges back into the fray, still uttering his
war-cry.

By this time the French are facing a second onslaught of the pagans,
and Roland has felled twenty-four of their bravest fighters before
Marsile challenges him to a duel. Although weak and weary, Roland
accepts, and with his first stroke hews off the Saracen's right hand;
but, before he can follow this up with a more decisive blow, Marsile
is borne away by his follow