Roland, seeing the dismay in which his nephew was plunged, pressed upon him his own famous arms and his favourite charger, and, thus equipped, Gayferos once more turned his face to the land of Spain. In due time he arrived at Saragossa, and, meeting with no opposition at its gates, he entered and rode straight to the house where his captive wife lay. Beholding him from the window, she begged him as he was a Christian knight to send the tidings of her to her husband Gayferos.
“Seven summers, seven winters have I waited in this tower,
While my lord Gayferos holdeth dalliance in hall and bower;
Hath forgotten Melisenda, hopes that she hath wed the Moor;
Yet the kindness of his memory shall I cherish evermore.”
Stands the champion in his stirrups. “Lady, dry the useless tear,
For thy husband and thy lover, thy devoted knight is here.
Spring to saddle from the casement, leap into my fond embrace
That shall hold thee and enfold thee from the Moor and all his race.”
Leaping from the casement into the arms of her faithful knight, Melisenda placed herself on the saddle before him, and setting spurs to his horse Gayferos made all speed to reach the gates. But a Moor who had witnessed the rescue gave the alarm, and soon the fugitives found themselves pursued by seven columns of horsemen.