CXLIII

　　But what avail?Though fled be Marsilies,

　　He's left behind his uncle, the alcaliph

　　Who holds Alferne, Kartagene, Garmalie,

　　And Ethiope, a cursed land indeed;

　　The blackamoors from there are in his keep,

　　Broad in the nose they are and flat in the ear,

　　Fifty thousand and more in company.

　　These canter forth with arrogance and heat,

　　Then they cry out the pagans' rallying-cheer;

　　And Rollant says: "Martyrdom we'll receive;

　　Not long to live, I know it well, have we;

　　Felon he's named that sells his body cheap!

　　Strike on, my lords, with burnished swords and keen;

　　Contest each inch your life and death between,

　　That neer by us Douce France in shame be steeped.

　　When Charles my lord shall come into this field,

　　Such discipline of Sarrazins he'll see,

　　For one of ours he'll find them dead fifteen;

　　He will not fail, but bless us all in peace."

　　AOI.