Ah Durendal, he says, how beautiful and bright.
So full of light, all on fire in the sun.
King Charles was in the vales of Moriane when God sent his angel and
commanded him from Heaven to give you to a captain count.
That great and noble King girded it on me, and
with this sword, I won Anjou and Brittany.
I won Poitou, I won Le Maine for Charles, and
Normandy, that land where men are free.
I won Provence and Aquitaine with this, and Lombardy, and every field of Romagna.
I won Bavaria, and all of Flanders, all of Poland, and Bulgaria for Charles.
Constantinople, which pledged him loyalty, and Saxony, where he does as he wills,
and with this sword I won Scotland and Ireland, and England, his chamber,
his own domain, the lands, the nations I conquered with this sword for
Charles who rules them now, whose beard is white.
Roland, the loyal and good warrior, embodies the spirit of a golden age of
chivalry and honor, he participates in the distribution of arms of course.
But he also gains something far more precious, that is to say,
reputation or honor.