Charlemagne Approaches. The last Frenchmen are fighting madly against a thousand Moors on foot and four thousand on horseback, when the spears flung from a distance lay low the wounded man and deal a mortal wound to the archbishop.  But, even while dying, Turpin joins Roland in declaring they must continue to fight, so that when the emperor finds their bodies he can see they have piled hundreds of corpses around them.  This resolve is carried out, however, only at the cost of dire suffering, for the archbishop is dying and Roland’s burst temples cause him intense pain.  Nevertheless, he once more puts his horn to his lips, and draws from it this time so pitiful a blast that, when it reaches the ears of Charlemagne, he woefully exclaims:  “All is going ill; my nephew Roland will die to-day, for the sound of his horn is very weak!”

Again bidding his sixty thousand trumpets sound, the emperor urges his troops to even greater speed, until the noise of his horns and the tramp of his steeds reaches the pagans’ ears and admonishes them to flee.  Realizing that, should Roland survive, the war will continue, a few Moors make a final frantic attempt to slay him before fleeing.  Seeing them advance for a last onslaught, Roland—­who has dismounted for a moment—­again bestrides his steed and, accompanied by the staggering archbishop, bravely faces them.  They, however, only fling missiles from a distance, until Roland’s shield drops useless from his hand and his steed sinks lifeless beneath him!  Then, springing to his feet, Roland defies these cowardly foes, who, not daring to linger any longer, turn and flee, crying that Roland has won and Spain is lost unless the emir comes to their rescue!

The Last Blessing of the Archbishop. While the pagans are spurring towards Saragossa, Roland remains on the battle-field, for, having lost his steed and being mortally wounded, he cannot attempt to pursue them.  After tenderly removing the archbishop’s armor, binding up his wounds, and placing him comfortably on the ground, Roland brings him the twelve peers, so he can bless them for the last time.  Although Archbishop Turpin admonishes him to hasten, Roland is so weak, that he slowly and painfully collects the corpses from mountain and valley, laying them one by one at the feet of the archbishop, who, with right hand raised, bestows his blessing.  While laying Oliver at Turpin’s feet, Roland faints from grief, so the prelate painfully raises himself, and, seizing the hero’s horn, tries to get down to the brook to bring him some water.  Such is his weakness, however, that he stumbles and falls dead, face to the ground, before he can fulfil his kindly intention.

On recovering consciousness and seeing nothing save corpses around him, Roland exults to think that Charlemagne will find forty dead Saracens for every slain Frenchman!  Then, feeling his brain slowly ooze out through his ears, Roland—­after reciting a prayer for his dead companions—­grasps his sword in one hand and his horn in the other, and begins to climb a neighboring hill.  He tries to reach its summit because he has always boasted he would die face toward the enemy, and he longs to look defiance toward Spain until the end.