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- ;L120.FIREFIREFIREFIRE.EXTRA.ENTRY
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- “Count Roland smites upon the marble stone;
- I cannot tell you how he hewed it and smote;
- Yet the blade breaks not nor splinters, though it groans;
- Upward to heaven it rebounds from the blow.
- When the count sees it never will be broke,
- Then to himself right softly he makes moan;
- ‘Ah, Durandal, fair, hallowed, and devote,
- What store of relics lies in thy hilt of gold!’”
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- -From $UThe Song of Roland
- (Translated by Dorothy Sayers, Viking Penguin, NY, NY, 1957)
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- I’ve twice been conquered-
- Three times more,
- Never again shall humanity purge me,
- And never the Pfhor.
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- Durandal
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- <32.55.82.967>
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