Stern and stubborn is the fight; Staunch are the Franks with the sword to smite; Nor is there one but whose blade is red, "_Montjoie!_" is ever their war-cry dread. Through the land they ride in hot pursuit, And the heathens feel 'tis a fierce dispute. CXX In wrath and anguish, the heathen race Turn in flight from the field their face; The Franks as hotly behind them strain. Then might ye look on a cumbered plain: Saracens stretched on the green grass bare, Helms and hauberks that shone full fair, Standards riven and arms undone: So by the Franks was the battle won. The foremost battle that then befell-- O God, what sorrow remains to tell! CXXI With heart and prowess the Franks have stood; Slain was the heathen multitude; Of a hundred thousand survive not two: The archbishop crieth, "O staunch and true! Written it is in the Frankish geste, That our Emperor's vassals shall bear them best." To seek their dead through the field they press, And their eyes drop tears of tenderness: Their hearts are turned to their kindred dear. Marsil the while with his host is near. CXXII Distraught was Roland with wrath and pain; Distraught were the twelve of Carlemaine-- With deadly strokes the Franks have striven, And the Saracen horde to the slaughter given; Of a hundred thousand escaped but one-- King Margaris fled from the field alone; But no disgrace in his flight he bore-- Wounded was he by lances four. To the side of Spain did he take his way, To tell King Marsil what chanced that day. CXXIII Alone King Margaris left the field, With broken spear and piercèd shield, Scarce half a foot from the knob remained, And his brand of steel with blood was stained; On his body were four lance wounds to see: Were he Christian, what a baron he! He sped to Marsil his tale to tell; Swift at the feet of the king he fell: "Ride, sire, on to the field forthright, You will find the Franks in an evil plight; Full half and more of their host lies slain, And sore enfeebled who yet remain; Nor arms have they in their utmost need: To crush them now were an easy deed," Marsil listened with heart aflame. Onward in search of the Franks he came. CXXIV