Minaya Alvar Fañez came then to him likewise. "Oh, Cid, give ear, and hearken, Oh faithful Campeador! For surely in this battle shall God himself make war, And He will make thee worthy with Him therein to share. Where 'er thou deemest fitting bid us attack them there. Each man must do his duty. Upon them let us thrust. On God and on thy fortune now hangeth all our trust." My lord Cid said: "Then prithee tarry here yet awhile." Lo! don Jerome the Bishop who was armed in gallant style, He stopped before the Campeador. Fair fortune had he aye. "The Mass of Holy Trinity I sang for thee this day. For this cause from mine own country did I seek thee and ensue, Since in the slaughter of the Moor such great delight I knew. And I am fain to honor both mine order and mine hand. In the forefront of the battle it is my desire to stand. And crosses on my pennant, and blazoned arms have I. If it be God his pleasure, I am fain mine arms to try, That so at last my spirit in perfect peace may be, And thou mayst be, my lord the Cid, better content with me. If thou cost me not this honor, from thy side I will retire." The lord Cid gave him answer: "I am pleased with thy desire. Of the Moors go make a trial, lo, where they are in sight. From hence we shall behold it, how the Abbot fights the fight." CXVII. And don Jerome the Bishop went spurring thence away. 'Gainst the end of the encampment he guided forth the fray. By his good hap and God's mercy who ever loved him well, At the first stroke he delivered two Moors before him fell. When in twain his lance was broken, he set hand upon the blade. Well was he tried. And Name of God! what a fair fight he made! Two with the lance, and with the sword five of the foe he slew. The Moors are very many. Around him close they drew, They did not pierce his armour, though they laid on strokes of power. His eyes beheld the Bishop, who was born in happy hour, He caught his shield, the battle-spear he laid it low along, He spurred Baviéca the well-paced steed and strong, He went to smite against them with all his soul and heart. The foremost ranks of battle did the lord Cid dispart: Of the Moors he struck down seven, and five of them hath slain. God was well pleased, the battle it was granted him to gain. My lord Cid and his henchmen in hot pursuit they went. There had you seen the stakes uptorn and may a tent-rope rent, And all the ten-poles falling that were wrought so rich and brave. From the tents, my lord Cid's vassals King Búcar's henchmen drave.