No baron is there now, no chevalier Who, in his pity, sheds not tears for sons, For brothers--nephews--friends--and for liege-lords. Many have fallen swooning on the earth, But Duke Naimes bore himself as valorous knight: He foremost said to Carle:--"Behold two leagues Away!--The roads are dark with clouds of dust. There swarm the Pagan tribes.... Ride on them now, Avenge this bitter woe."--"O God," said Carle, "Are they already flown so far?--our rights And honor shield! Those Pagans took from me The flower of my Sweet France!"--The King commands Gebuin, Otun, Tedbalt de Reins and Count Milun:--"Watch ye the field, the vales, the mounts; The slain, leave to their rest; see that no beast Nor lion, squire nor page approach. I charge You, let no man upon them lay his hand Until, with God's assistance, we return." They lovingly and with sweet tone reply: "Thus shall we do, just Emperor, dear sire!" Upon the field they keep one thousand knights. Aoi. CLXXXI. Now bids the Emperor his trumpets blow, Then forward at the head of his great host He rides, that Baron true. Of those of Spain He finds the tracks, points out the road; in quick Pursuit all follow Carle.... When sees the King The eve decline, he on the verdant grass Dismounts, and prostrate prays to God our Lord The sun to stay, the shades of night hold back And longer make the day. To him appears A Counselor-Angel with the swift command; "Ride on, O King, nor fear that night shall fall! God knows that thou hast lost the flower of France; But vengeance canst have now upon that horde Of unbelievers." Thus the Angel spake. The Emp'ror rises and remounts his steed. Aoi. CLXXXII. To Carlemagne Our Lord now showed his might; The sun stays in its course. The Pagans fly, And fast the French pursuing, overtake Them in the Val-Tenebre. They drive them on Toward Sarraguce, while close behind them fall The upraised swords, and strew the ground with dead. No issue, no escape, by road or pass! In front deep Ebro rolls its mighty waves: No boat, no barge, no raft. They call for help On Tervagant, then plunge into the flood. Vain was their trust: some, weighted with their arms, Sink in a moment; others are swept down, And those most favored swallow monstrous draughts. All drown most cruelly. The French cry out: "For your own woe wished ye to see Rolland!" Aoi. CLXXXIII.