Chapter 22

_Of the Death of Marsir, and the Flight of Beligard._

As Orlando was returning after the battle was over to view the Saracen army, he met a certain black Saracen, who had fled from the field, and concealed himself in the woods, whom he seized and bound to a tree with four bands. Then, ascending a lofty hill, he surveyed the Moorish army, and seeing likewise many Christians retreating by the Ronceval road he blew his horn, and was joined by about a hundred of them, with whom he returned to the Saracen, and promised to give him his life if he would show him Marsir; which having performed, he set him at liberty. Animating his little band, Orlando was soon amidst the thickest of the enemy, and finding one of larger stature than the rest, he hewed him and his horse in twain, so that the halves fell different ways. Marsir and his companions then fled in all directions, but Orlando, trusting in the divine aid, rushed forward, and overcoming all opposition, slew Marsir on the spot. By this time every one of the Christians was slain, and Orlando himself sorely wounded in five places by lances, and grievously battered likewise with stones. Beligard, seeing Marsir had fallen, retired from the field with the rest of the Saracens; whilst Theodoric and Baldwin, and some few other Christians, made their way through the pass, towards which Orlando, wandering, came likewise to the foot of it, and, alighting from his steed, stretched himself on the ground, beneath a tree, near a block of marble, that stood upright in the meadows of Ronceval.

Here drawing his sword, Durendal, which signifies a hard blow, a sword of exquisite workmanship, fine temper, and resplendent brightness, which he would sooner have lost his arm than parted with, as he held it in his hand, regarding it earnestly, addressed it in these words: "O sword of unparalleled brightness, excellent dimensions, admirable temper, and hilt of the whitest ivory, decorated with a splendid cross of gold, topped by a berylline apple, engraved with the sacred name of God, endued with keenness and every other virtue, who now shall wield thee in battle? who shall call thee master? He that possessed thee was never conquered, never daunted at the foe; phantoms never appalled him. Aided by Omnipotence, with thee did he destroy the Saracen, exalt the faith of Christ, and acquire consummate glory. Oft hast thou vindicated the blood of Jesus, against Pagans, Jews, and heretics; oft hewed off the hand and foot of the robber, fulfilling divine justice. O happy sword, keenest of the keen; never was one like thee! He that made thee, made not thy fellow! Not one escaped with life from thy stroke! If the slothful timid soldier should now possess thee, or the base Saracen, my grief would be unspeakable! Thus, then, do I prevent thy falling into their hands."--He then struck the block of marble thrice, which cleft it in the midst, and broke the sword in twain.