t
his horse. At length he found his end approaching, for toil and fever,
and rode all alone to a fountain where he had before quenched his
thirst. His horse was wearier than he, and no sooner had his master
alighted than the beast, kneeling down as if to take leave, and to say,
"I have brought you to a place of rest," fell dead at his feet. Orlando
cast water on him from the fountain, not wishing to believe him dead;
but when he found it to no purpose, he grieved for him as if he had
been a human being, and addressed him by name with tears, and asked
forgiveness if he had ever done him wrong. They say that the horse, at
these words, opened his eyes a little, and looked kindly at his master,
and then stirred never more. They say also that Orlando then summoning
all his strength, smote a rock near him with his beautiful sword
Durindana, thinking to shiver the steel in pieces, and so prevent its
falling into the hands of the enemy, but though the rock split like a
slate, and a great cleft remained ever after to astonish the eyes of
pilgrims, the sword remained uninjured.

And now Rinaldo and Ricciardetto came up, with Turpin, having driven
back the Saracens, and told Orlando that the battle was won. Then
Orlando knelt before Turpin and begged remission of his sins, and
Turpin gave him absolution. Orlando fixed his eyes on the hilt of his
sword as on a crucifix, and embraced it, and he raised his eyes and
appeared like a creature seraphical and transfigured, and bowing his
head, he breathed out his pure soul.

And now King Charles and his nobles came up. The Emperor, at sight of
the dead Orlando, threw himself, as if he had been a reckless youth,
from his horse, and embraced and kissed the body, and said: "I bless
thee, Orlando; I bless thy whole life, and all that thou wast, and all
that thou ever didst, and the father that begat thee; and I ask pardon
of thee for believing those who brought thee to thine end. They shall
have their reward, O thou beloved one! But indeed it is thou that
livest, and I who am worse than dead."

Horrible to the Emperor's eyes was the sight of the field of
Roncesvalles. The Saracens indeed had fled, conquered; but all his
paladins but two were left on it dead, and the whole valley looked like
a great slaughter-house, trampled into blood and dirt, and reeking to
the heat. Charles trembled to his heart's core for wonder and agony.
After gazing dumbly on the place he cursed it with a solemn cur