Vast is the plain and broad the field. Behold Those dazzling helms inlaid with gold and gems, Those shields, those coats of mail with saffron edged, Those spears and pennons rolled; hearken ye the voice Of trumpets blowing clear and strong, and hark The olifant's shrill blast, which sounds the charge. The Emir calls his brother, Canabeu, The King of Floredée, who rules the land As far as Val-Sevrée, and points to Carle's Ten must'ring legions: "See the pride of France The praised; amid his bearded knights how proud The Emperor rides! O'er their hauberks stream Their beards as white as snow upon the frost. Forsooth! These valiant warriors will strike hard With lance and sword, and such a fight be ours As never man has fought." Then Baligant, Urging his courser further than a man Can hurl a staff, gave reasons and their proof: "Come forward, Pagans; follow where I go!" Brandishing high the shaft of his own lance, At Carle he levels fair its trenchant steel. Aoi.
[CCXLI.]
When Carle the Emir sees, and with him borne The dragon-standard, all the land o'erswarmed By Arab warriors, save that space alone Held by his host, he cries with loudest voice: "Barons of France, in valor great, we know, Upon how many fields ye battled! See The Pagans! Traitors vile and cowards all; Yea, all their law I count no denier worth. What care ye, lords, how vast their numbers are? Let those who wish to combat follow me!" With pointed spurs he pricks his courser's flanks And Tecendur four times leaped in the air. Cry out the French:—"A valiant King is this! Ride forward, Sire, not one will fail you here." Aoi.
[CCXLII.]
Clear was the day and bright the sun. Both hosts Resplendent, their battalions numberless; The legions in the van already meet In fight. Both Counts Rabel and Guineman On their fleet coursers' necks have loosed the rein! Sharply they spur, and all the Franks dash on To deal with trenchant lance their valiant blows. Aoi.
[CCXLIII.]
A daring Knight is Count Rabel. With spurs Of purest gold he pricks his courser's flanks, Rushing to smite Torleu the Persian King. No shield, no hauberk can such blow withstand. The golden spear went through the Pagan's heart And mid the brambles of the road has struck Him dead. The French cry out: "Aid us, O God! With Carle the right; ne'er shall we fail our King!" Aoi.
[CCXLIV.]
Guineman 'gainst the King of Leutice tilts; The Pagan's shield with painted flowers bedecked Is shattered and his hauberk torn away. Through his heart's core the pennon of the Knight Is driven, bearing death,—or laugh or weep Who may. At such a blow the French exclaim: "Barons, strike ever! Strike and be not slack Against the Pagan hordes; to Carle belongs The right. With us the justice true of God!" Aoi.