king o’erthrown! 
     Such felony our gods have shown,
     Who failed in fight his aids to be. 
     The Emir comes—­a dastard he,
     Unless he will that race essay,
     Who proudly fling their lives away. 
     Their Emperor of the hoary beard,
     In valor’s desperation reared,
     Will never fly for mortal foe. 
     Till he be slain, how deep my woe[2]!”

[Footnote 2:  Here intervenes the episode of the great battle fought between Charlemagne and Baligant, Emir of Babylon, who had come, with a mighty army, to the succor of King Marsil his vassal.  This episode has been suspected of being a later interpolation.  The translation is resumed at the end of the battle, after the Emir had been slain by Charlemagne’s own hand, and when the Franks enter Saragossa in pursuit of the Saracens.]

* * * * *

CCXXI

Fierce is the heat and thick the dust. 
The Franks the flying Arabs thrust. 
To Saragossa speeds their flight. 
The queen ascends a turret’s height. 
The clerks and canons on her wait,
Of that false law God holds in hate. 
Order or tonsure have they none. 
And when she thus beheld undone
The Arab power, all disarrayed,
Aloud she cried, “Mahound us aid! 
My king! defeated is our race,
The Emir slain in foul disgrace.” 
King Marsil turns him to the wall,
And weeps—­his visage darkened all. 
He dies for grief—­in sin he dies,
His wretched soul the demon’s prize.

     CCXXII

     Dead lay the heathens, or turned to flight,
     And Karl was victor in the fight. 
     Down Saragossa’s wall he brake—­
     Defence he knew was none to make. 
     And as the city lay subdued,
     The hoary king all proudly stood,
     There rested his victorious powers. 
     The queen hath yielded up the towers—­
     Ten great towers and fifty small. 
     Well strives he whom God aids withal.

     CCXXIII

     Day passed; the shades of night drew on,
     And moon and stars refulgent shone. 
     Now Karl is Saragossa’s lord,
     And a thousand Franks, by the king’s award,
     Roam the city, to search and see
     Where mosque or synagogue may be. 
     With axe and mallet of steel in hand,
     They let nor idol nor image stand;
     The shrines of sorcery down they hew,
     For Karl hath faith in God the True,
     And will Him righteous service do. 
     The bishops have the water blessed,
     The heathen to the font are pressed. 
     If any Karl’s command gainsay,
     He has him hanged or burned straightway. 
     So a hundred thousand to Christ are won;
     But Bramimonde the queen alone
     Shall unto France be captive brought,
     And in love be her conversion wrought.

     CCXXIV