The Emperor sat silent with drooped head.

Ne'er rash in words, he never speaks in haste.

At last he rose. Proudly he looked and spake

Unto the messengers:—"Ye have well said

That King Marsile e'er stood my greatest foe!

On these fair-seeming words how far can I

Rely?" The crafty Saracen replied:

"Would you have hostages? you shall have ten,

Fifteen, yea, twenty. Though his fate be death

My son shall go, and others nobler still,

I deem. When to your lordly palace, home

Returned—when comes Saint Michael del Peril,

His feast, my Lord will follow to those springs,

He says, brought forth by God for you, and there

Baptized, a faithful Christian will become!"

Carl'magne makes answer:—"He may yet be saved!"

Aoi.