The Pagans all are slain [or put to flight];

Carle wins the day. The gates of Sarraguce

Are stormed, and well he knows, defense is vain.

He takes the city. All the Christian host

Pour in, and there repose their limbs this night.

The King with snow-white beard is filled with pride:

Queen Bramimunde gives up the citadels;

Ten of these forts are large, and fifty small.

Well helped are they whom God Almighty aids.

Aoi.