No king, no captain ever stood with better. Roland looks up on the mountains and slopes, sees the French dead, so many good men fallen, and weeps for them, as a great warrior weeps: “Barons, my lords, may God give you his grace, may he grant Paradise to all your souls, make them lie down among the holy flowers. I never saw better vassals than you. All the years you’ve served me, and all the times, the mighty lands you conquered for Charles our King! The Emperor raised you for this terrible hour! Land of France, how sweet you are, native land, laid waste this day, ravaged, made a desert. Barons of France, I see you die for me, and I, your lord—I cannot protect you. May God come to your aid, that God who never failed. —Excerpt from The Song of Roland