The Pagans fly—such is the will of God; Carle leads the French in the pursuit. Thus spake The King:—"Seigneurs, the time is come to give Vent to just hatred, and your anguished hearts Assuage. This very morn I saw your eyes Streaming with tears." They cry:—"Our vengeance now!" And vying with each other in exploits, They deal their mighty blows. But few escape. Aoi.
[CCLXVI.]
Amidst the sultry heat and clouds of dust The Pagans rousèd, by their foes harassed, Flee far for Sarraguce. To her high tower Ascends Queen Bramimunde, where, seeing thus The routed Arabs fly, she calls her priests And canons, subjects to false law, by God Ne'er loved: their crowns no holy tonsure wear. She cries aloud:—"Aid us, Mahum! Oh aid! O gentle King! Already vanquished are Our men, the Emir slain in shameful death!" On hearing this, Marsile turned to the wall His covered face, and amid bitter tears His life departed. Soon the eager fiends Bore off to judgment his sin-burthened soul. Aoi.
[CCLXVII.]
The Pagans all are slain [or put to flight]; Carle wins the day. The gates of Sarraguce Are stormed, and well he knows, defense is vain. He takes the city. All the Christian host Pour in, and there repose their limbs this night. The King with snow-white beard is filled with pride: Queen Bramimunde gives up the citadels; Ten of these forts are large, and fifty small. Well helped are they whom God Almighty aids. Aoi.
[CCLXVIII.]
The sunny day had passed, the shades of night Had fallen; bright the moonlight; all the stars In heaven shone. Carle ruled in Sarraguce. Unto one thousand men he gave command To search throughout the city's synagogues And mosques for all their idols and graved signs Of gods—these to be broken up and crushed By ax and iron mallet he ordains. Nor sorcery nor falsehood left. King Carle Believes in God and serves him faithfully. Then bishops bless the fountains, leading up The Heathens to the blest baptismal Font. If one perchance resist the King, condemned Is he to die, or hanged, or burnt, or slain. More than one hundred thousand are baptized True Christians; but not so Queen Bramimunde: A captive shall she go unto sweet France And be converted by the King through love. Aoi.
[CCLXIX.]
Night passes; dawn appears. Carle fortifies The towers of Sarraguce. One thousand Knights Of valor proved are left to guard the town In the Emperor's name. With escort strong he rides, Followed by Bramimunde a captive, yet Commands that naught but kindness she receive. In proud and joyous triumph they return; Through Nerbune passes the victorious host, Unto Burdele, the city great and fair. There on the altar of the Baron Saint Sevrin, Carle lays the olifant filled full Of marks and gold, where pilgrims view it still. Passing upon broad skiffs across Girunde, To Blaive, he bears the bodies of Rollánd And Olivier, his noble Compagnon, With the Archbishop good and brave. Beneath White monuments he hath the lords entombed At Saint-Romain. Here those three Barons lie.... The French to God and to his saints, once more Commend them. Carle anew through mounts and vales Proceeds, nor will he stop until in Aix. Fast rides he till he nears the marble steps Of his great palace; and as soon as reached Its tower, by messengers he summons up Baiviers and Saisnes, Loherencs and Frisons, Allemans, Burguignons, Normans, Poitevins, Bretons, of France the wisest men; for now Ganelon's trial shall have no delay. Aoi.