Great was the heat, the dust arose and blew; Still pagans fled, and hotly Franks pursued. The chase endured from there to Sarraguce. On her tower, high up clomb Bramimunde, Around her there the clerks and canons stood Of the false law, whom God ne'er loved nor knew; Orders they'd none, nor were their heads tonsured. And when she saw those Arrabits confused Aloud she cried: "Give us your aid, Mahume! Ah! Noble king, conquered are all our troops, And the admiral to shameful slaughter put!" When Marsile heard, towards the wall he looked, Wept from his eyes, and all his body stooped, So died of grief. With sins he's so corrupt; The soul of him to Hell live devils took. CCLXV Pagans are slain; the rest are put to rout Whom Charles hath in battle overpowered. Of Sarraguce the gates he's battered down, For well he knows there's no defence there now; In come his men, he occupies that town; And all that night they lie there in their pow'r. Fierce is that King, with 's hoary beard, and proud, And Bramimunde hath yielded up her towers; But ten ere great, and lesser fifty around. Great exploits his whom the Lord God endows! CCLXVI Passes the day, the darkness is grown deep, But all the stars burn, and the moon shines clear. And Sarraguce is in the Emperour's keep. A thousand Franks he bids seek through the streets, The synagogues and the mahumeries; With iron malls and axes which they wield They break the idols and all the imageries; So there remain no fraud nor falsity. That King fears God, and would do His service, On water then Bishops their blessing speak, And pagans bring into the baptistry. If any Charles with contradiction meet Then hanged or burned or slaughtered shall he be. Five score thousand and more are thus redeemed, Very Christians; save that alone the queen To France the Douce goes in captivity; By love the King will her conversion seek. CCLXVII