A heathen of Saragossa came. Full half the city was his to claim. It was Climorin: hollow of heart was he, He had plighted with Gan in perfidy, What time each other on mouth they kissed, And he gave him his helm and amethyst. He would bring fair France from her glory down And from the Emperor wrest his crown. He sate upon Barbamouche, his steed, Than hawk or swallow more swift in speed. Pricked with the spur, and the rein let flow, To strike at the Gascon of Bordeaux, Whom shield nor cuirass availed to save. Within his harness the point he drave, The sharp steel on through his body passed, Dead on the field was the Gascon cast. Said Climorin, "Easy to lay them low: Strike in, my pagans, give blow for blow." For their champion slain, the Franks cry woe. CXXIX Sir Roland called unto Olivier, "Sir Comrade, dead lieth Engelier; Braver knight had we none than he." "God grant," he answered, "revenge to me." His spurs of gold to his horse he laid, Grasping Hauteclere with his bloody blade. Climorin smote he, with stroke so fell, Slain at the blow was the infidel. Whose soul the Enemy bore away. Then turned he, Alphaien, the duke, to slay; From Escababi the head he shore, And Arabs seven to the earth he bore. Saith Roland, "My comrade is much in wrath; Won great laud by my side he hath; Us such prowess to Karl endears. Fight on, fight ever, my cavaliers." CXXX Then came the Saracen Valdabrun, Of whom King Marsil was foster-son. Four hundred galleys he owned at sea, And of all the mariners lord was he. Jerusalem erst he had falsely won, Profaned the temple of Solomon, Slaying the patriarch at the fount. 'Twas he who in plight unto Gan the count, His sword with a thousand coins bestowed. Gramimond named he the steed he rode, Swifter than ever was falcon's flight; Well did he prick with the sharp spurs bright, To strike Duke Samson, the fearless knight. Buckler and cuirass at once he rent, And his pennon's flaps through his body sent; Dead he cast him, with levelled spear. "Strike, ye heathens; their doom is near." The Franks cry woe for their cavalier. CXXXI