Karl the Great hath wasted Spain,
   Her cities sacked, her castles ta’en;
   But now “My wars are done,” he cried,
  “And home to gentle France we ride.”

The Rear-guard and Roland Condemned to Death. On the eve of his return to “sweet France,” Charlemagne’s rest is disturbed by horrible dreams, in one of which Ganelon breaks his lance, while in the other wild animals are about to attack him.  On awaking from this nightmare, Charlemagne divides his army so as to thread his way safely through the narrow passes of the mountains, arranging that a force shall remain twenty miles in his rear to make sure he shall not be surprised by the foe.  When he inquires to whom this important command shall be entrusted, Ganelon eagerly suggests that, as Roland is the most valiant of the peers, the task be allotted to him.  Anxious to keep his nephew by him, Charlemagne resents this suggestion, but, when he prepares to award the post to some one else, Roland eagerly claims it, promising France shall lose nothing through him.

  “God be my judge,” was the count’s reply,
  “If ever I thus my race belie. 
   But twenty thousand with me shall rest,
   Bravest of all your Franks and best;
   The mountain passes in safety tread,
   While I breathe in life you have nought to dread.”

Because it is patent to all that his step-father proposed his name through spite, Roland meaningly remarks that he at least will not drop the insignia of his rank, and in proof thereof proudly clutches the bow Charlemagne hands him, and boastfully declares twelve peers and twenty thousand men will prove equal to any emergency.

Fully armed and mounted on his steed (Veillantif), Roland, from an eminence, watches the vanguard of the French army disappear in the mountain gorges, calling out to the last men that he and his troop will follow them soon!  This vanguard is led by Charlemagne and Ganelon, and, as it passes on, the heavy tramp of the mailed steeds causes the ground to shake, while the clash of the soldiers’ arms is heard for miles around.  They have already travelled thirty miles and are just nearing France, whose sunny fields the soldiers greet with cries of joy, when Duke Naimes perceives tears flowing down the emperor’s cheeks, and learns that they are caused by apprehension for Roland.

  High were the peaks, and the valleys deep,
  The mountains wondrous dark and steep;
  Sadly the Franks through the passes wound,
  Fully fifteen leagues did their tread resound. 
  To their own great land they are drawing nigh,
  And they look on the fields of Gascony. 
  They think of their homes and their manors there,
  Their gentle spouses and damsels fair. 
  Is none but for pity the tear lets fall;
  But the anguish of Karl is beyond them all. 
  His sister’s son at the gates of Spain
  Smites on his heart, and he weeps amain.