Page:The Song of Roland.djvu/130

 His own broad shield he hangs upon his neck, (Round its gold boss a band of crystal went, The strap of it was a good silken web;) He grasps his spear, the which he calls Maltet;— So great its shaft as is a stout cudgel, Beneath its steel alone, a mule had bent; On his charger is Baligant mounted, Marcules, from over seas, his stirrup held. That warrior, with a great stride he stepped, Small were his thighs, his ribs of wide extent, Great was his breast, and finely fashionèd, With shoulders broad and very clear aspect; Proud was his face, his hair was ringleted, White as a flow’r in summer was his head. His vassalage had often been provèd. God! what a knight, were he a Christian yet! His horse he’s spurred, the clear blood issuèd; He’s gallopped on, over a ditch he’s leapt, Full fifty feet a man might mark its breadth. Pagans cry out: “Our Marches shall be held; There is no Frank, may once with him contest, Will he or nill, his life he’ll soon have spent. Charlès is mad, that he departs not hence.” AOI.

That admiral to a baron’s like enough, White is his beard as flowers by summer burnt; In his own laws, of wisdom hath he much; And in battle he’s proud and arduous. His son Malprimes is very chivalrous, He’s great and strong;—his ancestors were thus. Says to his sire: “To canter then let us! I marvel much that soon we’ll see Carlun.” Says Baligant: “Yea, for he’s very pruff; In many tales honour to him is done; He hath no more Rollant, his sister’s son, He’ll have no strength to stay in fight with us.” AOI.