The Song of Roland

Author: Anonymous  | Date: 1050


But Rollant felt that death had made a way

Down from his head till on his heart it lay;

Beneath a pine running in haste he came,

On the green grass he lay there on his face;

His olifant and sword beneath him placed,

Turning his head towards the pagan race,

Now this he did, in truth, that Charles might say

(As he desired) and all the Franks his race:

’Ah, gentle count; conquering he was slain!’

He owned his faults often and every way,

And for his sins his glove to God upraised.


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Chicago: Anonymous, "CLXXIV," The Song of Roland Original Sources, accessed July 17, 2024,

MLA: Anonymous. "CLXXIV." The Song of Roland, Original Sources. 17 Jul. 2024.

Harvard: Anonymous, 'CLXXIV' in The Song of Roland. Original Sources, retrieved 17 July 2024, from