Now bids the Emperor his trumpets blow,

Then forward at the head of his great host

He rides, that Baron true. Of those of Spain

He finds the tracks, points out the road; in quick

Pursuit all follow Carle.... When sees the King

The eve decline, he on the verdant grass

Dismounts, and prostrate prays to God our Lord

The sun to stay, the shades of night hold back

And longer make the day. To him appears

A Counselor-Angel with the swift command;

"Ride on, O King, nor fear that night shall fall!

God knows that thou hast lost the flower of France;

But vengeance canst have now upon that horde

Of unbelievers." Thus the Angel spake.

The Emp'ror rises and remounts his steed.

Aoi.