A daring Knight is Count Rabel. With spurs

Of purest gold he pricks his courser's flanks,

Rushing to smite Torleu the Persian King.

No shield, no hauberk can such blow withstand.

The golden spear went through the Pagan's heart

And mid the brambles of the road has struck

Him dead. The French cry out: "Aid us, O God!

With Carle the right; ne'er shall we fail our King!"

Aoi.