Throughout the camp the drums sonorous beat, With bellowing horns and blasts of trumpet clear. The Pagans arm themselves, and least of all The Emir would th' advance delay--He wears A hauberk saffron--'broidered round the sides, And clasps his helm with gold and gems inlaid. On his left side a sword whereto, in pride, He gave a name, as Carle had named his sword, And called the blade his Precieuse. This name Shall be the battle-cry his warriors shout---- Hangs from his neck a large and spreading shield Whose golden boss shines with a crystal ring; The strap of silk with rosy 'broidery; The lance he bears is named Mallet, the shaft Of which so huge, more than a beam it looks, And steel so strong, beneath its weight a mule Would groan. Upon his steed mounts Baligant; His stirrup held by Marcule d'Ultremer. Mighty the Emir's stride across the selle; Thin-loined, wide-flanked, deep-chested, all his form Well molded; broad his shoulders; clear his eye, His visage haughty, curls around his brow. White as a summer blossom he appears; His valor proved by many feats of war. God! what a Baron, had he Christian faith! He spurs his horse until the crimson blood Reddens its flanks, and lightly bounds across A mighty chasm full fifty feet in width. The Pagans cry:--"He can defend his marche. With him none 'mong the French can cross a lance; Will they or not, their lives are forfeit now. Yea Carle was mad who did not shun the field." Aoi. CCXXXI. The Emir, Baron-like, wears on his chin A beard as white as summer flower, and gained Among the wisest of his creed a fame; In battle fierce and proud. His son Malprime Of knightly soul, and from his noble race Holding a valiant heart and strength of arm, Addressed his father:--"Sire, to horse! to horse! Against them! I much wonder whether Carle We e'er shall meet."--"Yea," answered Baligant, "Carle is a valorous knight; his glorious deeds Are writt'n, but now his nephew is no more; Against our strength no other man's can stand." Aoi. CCXXXII. "Fair son, Malprime," said th' Emir Baligant, "Yesterday fell in death the noble knight Rolland, and Olivier the wise and brave, And the twelve Peers by Carle so dearly loved, With twenty thousand combatants of France; Not at a glove's worth hold I all the rest. Anon my Syrian messenger reports The emperor's approach; ten armies Carle Has called in close array; the knight who bears The olifant, with clear resounding blast Leads his companions, riding in the front; Together with them fifteen thousand men Of France, all bachelors, whom Carle is wont To call his children. These as many follow Who for the fiercest combat seem prepared." Thus said Malprime: "The first stroke I demand!" Aoi. CCXXXIII.