"Barons! to horse!" said Baligant. "Bear thou

The glove, and thou the staff." The two reply:

"Dear Sire, thus shall we do." So fast they rode

They soon reached Sarraguce. Beneath ten gates

They pass, four bridges cross, ride through the streets

Where stand the burghers. But on drawing near

The lofty citadel, they heard great noise

About the palace, where were thronging crowds

Of Pagans with loud wails and shrieks of woe,

Crying out against their gods, on Tervagan,

Mahum, Apollo, who avail them naught.

Each says to each, "Ah, caitiffs, what shall now

Befall us, miserable? for we have lost

The King Marsile whose hand Rollánd struck off;

For aye we are bereft of Turfaleu

The Fair, his son. This day the land of Spain

Into the Christian hands will fall enslaved!"

The message-bearers reach the royal gates.

Aoi.