Running there came Margariz of Sibile, Who holds the land by Cadiz, to the sea.
For his beauty the ladies hold him dear;
Who looks on him, with him her heart is pleased, When she beholds, she can but smile for glee.
Was no pagan of such high chivalry.
Comes through the press, above them all cries he, "Be not at all dismayed, King Marsilie!
To Rencesvals I go, and Rollanz, he Nor Oliver may scape alive from me;The dozen peers are doomed to martyry.
See here the sword, whose hilt is gold indeed, I got in gift from the admiral of Primes;In scarlat blood I pledge it shall be steeped.
Franks shall be slain, and France abased be.
To Charles the old, with his great blossoming beard, Day shall not dawn but brings him rage and grief, Ere a year pass, all France we shall have seized, Till we can lie in th' burgh of Saint Denise."The pagan king has bowed his head down deep.
AOI.
