The French [strike] hard; they strike with all their force. In multitudes--by thousands die their foes; Not two out of one hundred thousand now Survive. [Turpin] says:--"Brave are all our men;-- None braver under Heaven--In the Geste Of France 'tis writ true vassals have our Kings." Seeking their friends, they overrun the field. Their eyes are filled with tenderness and tears For their dear kindred they so fondly loved.... Now King Marsile with his great host appears.... Aoi. CXIII. Marsile advances 'midst a valley deep, Surrounded by the mighty host he brought, In twenty squadrons mustered and arrayed. Bright shine the helmets strewn with gold and gems, And shields and hauberks graved. They sound a charge With seven hundred clarions sending forth Loud blasts throughout the land--Thus said Rolland: "Companion Olivier, my brother, friend, The traitor, Ganelon, has sworn our death.... His treason is too sure; the Emp'ror Carle For this vile crime will take a vengeance deep. A long and cruel battle we shall have, Ere this unknown to man. There, I will fight With my good Durendal; you, friend, will strike With Halteclere--Those noble swords we bore Throughout so many lands; such combats won By them, vile strains must never chant their deeds." Aoi. CXIV. When the French see the Pagan cohorts swarm The country o'er, they call on Olivier, Rolland and the twelve Peers to guard their lives. Unto them now the Archbishop speaks his mind: "Barons, be not unworthy of yourselves! Fly not the field, for God's sake, that brave men Sing not ill songs of you! Far better die In battle. Doomed, I know, we are to death, And ere this day has passed, our lives are o'er. But for one thing ye can believe my word: For you God's Paradise stands open wide, And seats await you 'mid the blessed Saints." These words of comfort reassure the French; All in one voice cry out:--"Montjoie! Montjoie!" Aoi. CXV.