The Emperor is once more at Aix. There stands

Amid the city 'fore the palace gate,

In iron chains, the traitor Ganelon.

His hands are fastened to a stake with thongs

Of deer-skin by the sergeants who then beat

His body well with staves and heavy cords.

Such treatment was his true desert. He waits

His coming doom, in agony of soul.

Aoi.