His sword Joyeuse, the battle cry
His noble French crusaders used.
Their enemies in ruin lie
Beneath great Charlemagne's Joyeuse.

Through shirts of mail and flesh it hews
Its fiercely killing exercise;
Through muscle, bone, and sinews too. 

His cavaliers to battle hie,
And those who see it are enthused;
They look toward their native sky
And cry for victory Joyeuse!

Sir Roland brave and good Olivier,
For God and kingdom everything they gave.
They never once did hide or shy away,
Not any Peer and not Sir Roland brave.

Before the mountain pass they made to stave
Four hundred thousand off, or make them pay;
Although they each were killed the host was saved.

And in the shadow of great Roncevaux lay
The foothills where there is a Frankish grave.
And there the shadows of high valor play,
The recollections of Sir Roland brave.