In the admiral is much great virtue found;He strikes Carlun on his steel helm so brown, Has broken it and rent, above his brow, Through his thick hair the sword goes glancing round, A great palm's breadth and more of flesh cuts out, So that all bare the bone is, in that wound.
Charles tottereth, falls nearly to the ground;God wills not he be slain or overpow'red.
Saint Gabriel once more to him comes down, And questions him "Great King, what doest thou?"
