CCXXVI. Duke Naimes and Joseran the Count equip The ninth battalion,--brave among the brave. Those warriors from Lorraine and Burgundy: In number fifty thousand knights; close helmed, In hauberk mailed--a stout short-handled lance Each wields. Should Arabs not from combat shrink, Lorrains and Bourguignons will deal hard blows; Tierri Duke of Argonne will be their chief. Aoi. CCXXVII. Barons of France make up the tenth. They are One hundred thousand captains 'mong the best; Hardy and stout, of features proud, hair flecked With gray, and beard all white; in hauberk clad And lined coat of mails, girt with their swords Of Spain and France; for shelter, brilliant shields With various blazons decked, among them known. They mount their steeds and clamor for the fight: "Montjoie!" they cry.--Comes now Carlemagne the king! Geffrei d'Anjou bears up the oriflamme Called Roman once, but since the day Saint Pierre Made it a standard, it is named Montjoie. Aoi. CCXXVIII. The Emperor Carle dismounts, prostrates himself Upon the verdant grass, invoking God With eyes uplifted toward the rising sun: "O father true, this day be my defense! Thy hand it was saved Jonas from the whale Within whose body he was swallowed up; Thou sparedst too the king of Niniva; And Daniel didst thou save from cruel pain When thrown among the lions. By thy might Stood the three children safe in burning flames, This day grant also unto me thy love, Merciful God! List to my prayer; vouchsafe That I avenge my nephew, dear Rolland!" Thus having prayed, he stands erect and marks His forehead with the sign of might: Then mounts A fleet-hoofed courser. Naimes and Joseran Carle's stirrup hold--With buckler on his arm And trenchant lance in rest; strength, beauty, grace Sat on his countenance and visage fair. Then firmly seated on his horse he rides.... Clarions in rear and front reecho 'round.... But above all rings out the olifant. Meantime the French weep ... mourning for Rolland. Aoi. CCXXIX. Most nobly on the Emp'ror Carle proceeds. His long beard flowing o'er his coat of mail, And so, for love of him, the knights, whereby, Are surely known the hundred thousand Franks; They march through mountains and o'ertopping peaks, Deep vales, defiles of frightful look. At last Leaving the narrow pass and wasted land, They reach the Spanish bourne and make a halt Amid a plain. Meanwhile to Baligant Return his vanguard scouts; a Syrian spy Heralds the news,--"We saw the proud King Carle. His warriors fierce will never fail their King. To arms--Within a moment look for fight!" Baligant cried:--"Good news for our brave hearts! Sound all your trumps and let my Pagans know!" Aoi. CCXXX.