XXVI.
True it was, as the songs relate, [121c]
No one’s steeds [121d] overtook Marchleu;
The lances [121e] hurled by the commanding earl,
In his prancing career, [121f] strewed a thick path;
As he had been reared for slaughter by the aid of my mother, [121g]
Furious was the stroke of his sword whilst lending support to others; [121h]
Ashen shafts were scattered from the grasp of his hand, [122a]
Above the narrow summit [122b] of the solemn pile, [122c]
The place where one caused the smoke to ascend; [122d]
He would slaughter with the blade, whilst his arms were full of furze; [122e]
As when a reaping comes in the interval of fine weather, [122f]
Would Marchleu [123a] make the blood to flow.