The mighty Emir with a giant's strength

Smites Carle upon the helm of burnished steel,

Which splits in twain beneath the ponderous blow,

Cuts through the silky hair, shears from the scalp

Fully the breadth of a man's palm and more,

Baring the skull. Carle staggers, nearly falls,

But God willed not that he should die or yield.

Saint Gabriel, with eager flight once more

Descends, demanding:—"What ails thee, great King?"

Aoi.