19.05.2008, 10:48
The Song of Roland
Keen songsmith of the iron age, who made
The deeds of Roland ring in rhythmic time,
Whose stroke and counter-stroke of clanging rhyme
Marked but the impact of each flashing blade.
How deep thy storm-enraptured music swayed
The hearts of men in their heroic prime,
As thought the din of battle moved sublime
The mighty Charles in warlike pomp arrayed.
But hark, what sounds! how sweet and sad they fall
Upon the sense: 'tis the horn Olivant
Bringing the unconquered warrior's dying breath:
And listen now, the melting mournful chant
For Roland fallen in deep Ronceval,
And Alda mourning for her hero's death.
Keen songsmith of the iron age, who made
The deeds of Roland ring in rhythmic time,
Whose stroke and counter-stroke of clanging rhyme
Marked but the impact of each flashing blade.
How deep thy storm-enraptured music swayed
The hearts of men in their heroic prime,
As thought the din of battle moved sublime
The mighty Charles in warlike pomp arrayed.
But hark, what sounds! how sweet and sad they fall
Upon the sense: 'tis the horn Olivant
Bringing the unconquered warrior's dying breath:
And listen now, the melting mournful chant
For Roland fallen in deep Ronceval,
And Alda mourning for her hero's death.