CLXXXV.

The Emperor reposes on the field, His mighty lance hard by his pillow planted, For he, on such a night will not disarm. His hauberk white, with orfreyed-marge he wears, His helmet, rich with gold and gems is laced, Girded Joyeuse, the sword without a peer, Who thirty times a day can change his hue. Many a time you all heard of the lance Wherewith Our Lord was pierced upon the cross, The steel whereof Carle has, thanks be to God, Closed in the golden pommel of his sword. For this great glory and exceeding worth The brand was called _Joyeuse_. This all French Knights Should bear in mind, for it was hence they took Their war-cry of _Montjoie_, and for this cause No other people can resist their arms. Aoi.