Till he findeth Olivier his friend;
The lifeless form to his heart he strained,
Bore him back with what strength remained,
On a buckler laid him, beside the rest,
The archbishop assoiled them all, and blessed.
Their dole and pity anew find vent,
And Roland maketh his fond lament:
"My Olivier, my chosen one,
Thou wert the noble Duke Renier's son,
Lord of the March unto Rivier vale.
To shiver lance and shatter mail,
The brave in council to guide and cheer,
To smite the miscreant foe with fear,
Was never on earth such cavalier."
--The Song of Roland, Verse CLXXXIV
Ollie's gone, and I am very sad.
I'm turning off comments on this post because I don't have the emotional energy to read them right now and answer them as they deserve, not because I'm trying to shut out my friends.
Thanks to everybody who's been so supportive through this.