Both armies are immense; their squadrons bright.

Between the combatants nor height, nor hill,

Nor vale, nor wood that shelter could afford;

Foe looks on foe across the open field.—

Said Baligant: "My Saracens, to horse!

Ride forward to the fight!" The battle flag

Is borne on high by Amboire d'Oliferne,

And all shout "Precieuse!" The French exclaim:

"May ye confounded be this day!" Aloud

Rises their cry "Montjoie!" The Emperor Carle

His trumpets bid resound, and the olifant

Whose blast 'whelms all. The Pagans say: "Carle's host

Is fair! Fierce battle shall we have and dire."

Aoi.