Page:The Song of Roland.djvu/143

 Brave vassals they, who brought those hosts to fight, Never have they forgotten their ensigns; That admiral still “Preciuse” doth cry, Charlès “Monjoie,” renownèd word of pride. Each the other knows by his clear voice and high; Amid the field they’re both come into sight, Then, as they go, great blows on either side They with their spears on their round targes strike; And shatter them, beneath their buckles wide; And all the folds of their hauberks divide; But bodies, no; wound them they never might. Broken their girths, downwards their saddles slide; Both those Kings fall, themselves aground do find; Nimbly enough upon their feet they rise; Most vassal-like they draw their swords outright. From this battle they’ll ne’er be turned aside Nor make an end, without that one man die. AOI.

A great vassal was Charles, of France the Douce; That admiral no fear nor caution knew. Those swords they had, bare from their sheaths they drew; Many great blows on ’s shield each gave and took; The leather pierced, and doubled core of wood; Down fell the nails, the buckles brake in two; Still they struck on, bare in their sarks they stood. From their bright helms the light shone forth anew. Finish nor fail that battle never could But one of them must in the wrong be proved. AOI.