CXXIV.

Marv'lous the battle, and the tumult fierce; The French of strength and fury full, raise high Their swords: backs, ribs and wrists are slashed; the flesh Cut through rent garments to the quick; along The verdant soil the red blood runs in streams. The Pagans cry:--"We cannot more endure! Great land, Mohammed curse thee!--More than all This people bold."--Not one who does not cry "Marsile! ride on, O King, thy aid we need!" Aoi.