CXCVI.

"Barons! to horse!" said Baligant. "Bear thou The glove, and thou the staff." The two reply: "Dear Sire, thus shall we do." So fast they rode They soon reached Sarraguce. Beneath ten gates They pass, four bridges cross, ride through the streets Where stand the burghers. But on drawing near The lofty citadel, they heard great noise About the palace, where were thronging crowds Of Pagans with loud wails and shrieks of woe, Crying out against their gods, on Tervagan, Mahum, Apollo, who avail them naught. Each says to each, "Ah, caitiffs, what shall now Befall us, miserable? for we have lost The King Marsile whose hand Rollánd struck off; For aye we are bereft of Turfaleu The Fair, his son. This day the land of Spain Into the Christian hands will fall enslaved!" The message-bearers reach the royal gates. Aoi.