Furbish my helm, my sword, my shield
And lance, in heedful wise.
To crimson them with Frankish blood
Forth am I fain to go;
By help of heaven and my two arms,
The Franks to leap I’ll show.”
“Oh! bid me also, my good lord,
Go with you, I implore.”
“Ah! what would thy poor mother say,
Shouldst thou return no more?
If on the ground thy blood should flow,
Who then would be her stay?”
“Oh! if you love me, my good lord,
You will not say me nay.
“But let me follow in the fight;
The Franks I do not fear:
My heart is firm; my steel is sharp
And true, my master dear.
And let who list lay blame on me,
Where you go, there go I;