That Emperour canters in noble array, Over his sark all of his beard displays;For love of him, all others do the same, Five score thousand Franks are thereby made plain.
They pass those peaks, those rocks and those mountains, Those terrible narrows, and those deep vales, Then issue from the passes and the wastes Till they are come into the March of Spain;A halt they've made, in th'middle of a plain.
To Baligant his vanguard comes again A Sulian hath told him his message:
"We have seen Charles, that haughty sovereign;Fierce are his men, they have no mind to fail.
Arm yourself then: Battle you'll have to-day."Says Baligant: "Mine is great vassalage;
Let horns this news to my pagans proclaim."
