Chapter CCXLIII

A daring Knight is Count Rabel. With spurs
Of purest gold he pricks his courser's flanks,
Rushing to smite Torleu the Persian King.
No shield, no hauberk can such blow withstand.
The golden spear went through the Pagan's heart
And mid the brambles of the road has struck
Him dead. The French cry out: "Aid us, O God!
With Carle the right; ne'er shall we fail our King!"
Aoi.