Passes that day, turns into vesper-tide.
Franks and pagans still with their swords do strike.
Brave vassals they, who brought those hosts to fight, Never have they forgotten their ensigns;That admiral still "Preciuse" doth cry, Charles "Monjoie," renowned word of pride.
Each the other knows by his clear voice and high;Amid the field they're both come into sight, Then, as they go, great blows on either side They with their spears on their round targes strike;And shatter them, beneath their buckles wide;And all the folds of their hauberks divide;But bodies, no; wound them they never might.
Broken their girths, downwards their saddles slide;Both those Kings fall, themselves aground do find;Nimbly enough upon their feet they rise;
Most vassal-like they draw their swords outright.
From this battle they'll ne'er be turned aside Nor make an end, without that one man die.
AOI.
