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CXC
High were the mountains and high the trees，
Bright shone the marble terraces；
On the green grass Roland hath swooned away.
A Saracen spied him where he lay：
Stretched with the rest he had feigned him dead，
His face and body with blood bespread.
To his feet he sprang，and in haste he hied，
He was fair and strong and of courage tried，
In pride and wrath he was overbold，And on Roland，
Body and arms，laid hold.
“The nephew of Karl is overthrown！
To Araby bear I this sword，mine own”.
He stooped to grasp it，
But as he drew，
Roland returned to his sense anew.