[LXXII.]
King Corsalis stands on the other side; He comes from Barbary; a soul of guile. Still speaks he there not unlike vassal true Who would not for the gold of heav'n be base: "If there I find Rollànd, we meet in fight. I am the third; now choose ye out the fourth." See you the spurring Malprimis de Brigal, Faster on foot than runs the fastest steed? Before Marsile in a loud voice he cries: "I shall my body take to Ronceval; If there I find Rollànd, by me he dies." Aoi.
[LXXIII.]
An Emir now is there, from Balaguer. Of handsome form, with proud and cheerful face, When on his steed he vaults, well doth he show With what great pride his armor's mail is borne. For truest vassalage he is renowned; Were he but Christian, 'twere a baron true. Before Marsile he stands and loudly cries: "My body I will take to Ronceval; If there I face Rollànd his doom is sure, Eke Olivier and the twelve peers, all die. The Franks shall perish in despair and shame. Carl'magne is old and dotes. O'erwhelmed, at last He will give up this waging war, and Spain Forever shall be kept beneath our sway." The King Marsile on him bestows great thanks. Aoi.
[LXXIV.]
Then from the Moorish land an Almazour Steps forth. All Spain can show no greater wretch. Before Marsile he makes a boastful vaunt: "To Ronceval will I my people lead— Full twenty thousand men with lance and shield. If I Rollànd find there, I pledge his death; No after-day shall dawn but Carle shall weep." Aoi.
[LXXV.]
From elsewhere comes Turgis de Turteluse. He is a count, and o'er this city wields His sway; hate unto Christians has he vowed, And stands with all the rest before Marsile. He thus addressed the king: "Ne'er be dismayed! More worth Mohammed than Saint Pierre of Rome; But serve him well, the honor of the field [Is ours]. I'll meet Rollánd at Ronceval Where none can guard him. Mark this sword of mine; Its blade, so good and long, in desperate fight Will cross with Durendal; and you will hear Which of the two shall win the victory. Abandoned unto us the French must die. The old King Carle will have both grief and shame, And never more on earth will wear a crown." Aoi.
[LXXVI.]
Comes up besides Escremiz de Valterne, A Saracen, and of that country lord. Before Marsile among the throng he cries: "To Ronceval I go, to crush the proud; Nor shall Rollánd, if there, bear off his head, Nor Olivier, chief of the other knights; The twelve peers, all are doomed to perish there. The French shall die, and France become a waste. Of such good vassals Carle will see the loss." Aoi.