And then again Oliuer turned to Rolant to urge him: "Rolant, my beloved friend," he said, "we are few compared with the army that confronts us. And because of that we would need you to sound the Eliphant, your horn, to call our king and his host back to help us." "May God not bring it about for us," said Rolant, "that the Franks be so disgraced through me as that Rolant should invite anyone to help him - before I taste the hardship of battle - when it is in Rolant's power to give help without fear. If the battle befalls us, as you say, Durendard my sword - which will move today among the pagans like a swift, sharp flash of lightning - will be my helper, for no one will meet with it whom it will not kill."
"O dear companion," said Oliuer again to Rolant, "sound the Eliphant to bring our king and his host back to aid us so that we may be safe and may annihilate from the book of life such a great number of pagans as this." "God forbid," said Rolant, "that I should incur shame such that I should be afraid to hear myself threatened with battle when I have never feared the presence of battle; and there is no place more carefree for me than when I was among my enemies with Durendard in my hand, cutting them down around me. And you will see me today pursuing the infidels so fiercely that those who would be able would prefer the pain of their own death to watching the blows of their reaper."
"Rolant, my companion," said Oliuer, "for the third time, I urge you to bring Chiarlymaen and his army back to us by a blast of the Eliphant, your horn, lest all these nobles, who have been left in your charge, be killed and lost today, and lest this infidel race return to its conquered land and its old protectorate again - and we could quickly destroy them with Chiarlymaen's might after he has been called back." "May it not happen," said Rolant, "that a multitude should frighten me, when [none] could ever withstand me. Never will Rolant be reproached for being compelled, out of fear of pagans, to be a horn blower. God forbid that Rolant should resemble in battle the huntsman hunting, for whom there is neither deed nor labor but to start wild beasts from bushes by a blast of his horn; and Rolant's deed and his labor will be as they ever were - to strike mightily with Durendard and to hew the riders and the horses in two halves and to pierce the opposing hosts, striking them on each side and trampling in heaps the corpses that Durendard leaves under my horse's hooves. And from now on do not recommend to me so great a shame as that, lest our friendship between us, and our solidarity, diminish on that account."
