King Corsablis the next drew nigh, Miscreant Monarch of Barbary; Yet he spake like vassal staunch and bold-- Blench would he not for all God's gold. The third, Malprimis, of Brigal's breed, More fleet of foot than the fleetest steed, Before King Marsil he raised his cry, "On unto Roncesvalles I: In mine encounter shall Roland die." LXXV An Emir of Balaguet came in place, Proud of body, and fair of face; Since first he sprang on steed to ride, To wear his harness was all his pride; For feats of prowess great laud he won; Were he Christian, nobler baron none. To Marsil came he, and cried aloud, "Unto Roncesvalles mine arm is vowed; May I meet with Roland and Olivier, Or the twelve together, their doom is near. The Franks shall perish in scathe and scorn; Karl the Great, who is old and worn, Weary shall grow his hosts to lead, And the land of Spain be for ever freed." King Marsil's thanks were his gracious meed. LXXVI A Mauritanian Almasour (Breathed not in Spain such a felon Moor) Stepped unto Marsil, with braggart boast: "Unto Roncesvalles I lead my host, Full twenty thousand, with lance and shield. Let me meet with Roland upon the field, Lifelong tears for him Karl shall yield." LXXVII Turgis, Count of Tortosa came. Lord of the city, he bears its name. Scathe to the Christian to him is best, And in Marsil's presence he joined the rest. To the king he said, "Be fearless found; Peter of Rome cannot mate Mahound. If we serve him truly, we win this day; Unto Roncesvalles I ride straightway. No power shall Roland from slaughter save: See the length of my peerless glaive, That with Durindana to cross I go, And who the victor, ye then shall know. Sorrow and shame old Karl shall share, Crown on earth never more shall wear." LXXVIII Lord of Valtierra was Escremis; Saracen he, and the region his; He cried to Marsil, amid the throng, "Unto Roncesvalles I spur along, The pride of Roland in dust to tread, Nor shall he carry from thence his head; Nor Olivier who leads the band. And of all the twelve is the doom at hand. The Franks shall perish, and France be lorn, And Karl of his bravest vassals shorn." LXXIX