The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1928-04-02

In the "Chanson de Roland the
matter is all of war. Charlemagne,
after defeating the Spanish Moors,
recrosSes the Pyrennees too rapidly,
leaving his rear guard, led by the
knights of Roland and Oliver, and
the mighty warrior Turpin, Arch
bishop Of Rheims, so far distant that
the Moors ensnared them.
Sir, comrade," says Oliver 81
think we shell have battle with
these Caracens."
God grant i'll" Roland replies.
Here we must hold for our King. A
man should suffer for his lord, en-
dure heat and cold, though he lose
hair and hide. Let each one of us
strike his best, that no evil song be
sung of u.s."
HERE is no strain of love, but
L L only feudal honor and fealty;
in all the long poem there is hardly
line about women. If there is
love, it is Greek, the comradeship
Of Roland and Oliver in life and
death. When Moors have slaughtered
the little host almost to the last
man, the two friends find them
selves surrounded and doomed.
They turn for a moment and bow
to each other, and them face around
to their deaths. Roland for a time
beats off his aSsailants, but Oliver
falls. Let us have a snatch of the
verse here, so that we may see how
French literature began. It is a
literal translation:
There Roland sits unconscious on his
horse,
And oliver, who wounded is to death.
SO much has bled. his eyes grow dark
Nor far nor near can see SC. clear
As too recognize any mortal man.
His. friend, when he has encountered
him.
He strikes upon the helmet of gemmed
splits It from the crown to the nose
But to the head he has not reached
At this BLOW Roland looks at him.
Asks him gently and softly
Sir friend. do YOU II in earnest?
You know tbs Roland, who has so
In no no way have YOU sent to me de-
SAYS Oliver: Indeed I hear YOU speak,
I do not see you. May God see and
Strike you did pray you pardon me-
Roland replies. I have no harm al all.
1 pardon you here and before Godp
At this word one to the other bends
with such affection, there they
separate.
Roland returns to battle, but his
eyes blind him with tears as he
looks upon the high-born knights
who lie on the field in death.
"Seigneurs barons," he prays,
may God have pity on you and
grant Paradise to your souls, and
give them to repoSe on holy flowers.
Better vassals shall I never see.
Land of France, sweet land, today
bereft of barons Of high prize. .
Oliver, brother, shall die of grief
if no one Stays mel"
Then Roland feels that death is TAX
Down from the head upon the heart it
Beneath a pine he hastens running;
On the green grass he throws himself
Beneath him puts his sword and
Turns his face toward the pagan army.
For this he does it. that he wishes
That Charles should say, and all his
The gentle tinttili Count has died a conoueror."
And then the inevitable medieval
end
His right-hand glove to God he
proffered;
Saint Gabriel from his hand took it;
Upon his arm he held his mead IN
Folding his hands he passes to his end.
God sent his angel cherubtn
And Saint Michael of the Sea in peril,
Together with them came saint
The soul Of the count they bear to
| Paradise"
Sometimes the two motives, love
and war, are woven together in the
tale, as in the cycle of Arthur,
Guinevere, and Lancelot; or the
story may turn on the conflict OF
love and piety, as in the legend OF
Parsifal. How old and young and
international these "idyls" are!
Chretien of Troies first wrote
them down, in French, toward the
end of the twelfth century; Wolf
ram Won Eschenbach, a generation
later, gave its noblest form to
'Parzival' in German; Sir Thomas
Mallory Gin the days Of Chaucer)
gathered the romance of Arthur into
lie More D'Arthur," and everlast-
ing treasure of English prose; when
the world had almost forgotten the
theme, Tenn%on clothed it once
more in be- fly; even today an
American + thrills thousands OF
hearts wit he story of Tristram
and his Il these legends spring
eternal r. our always romantic
souls. ~
(CopyA 1928. by VIII Durant)