XIV. "Mine arm is weak, my hairs are grey," (thus spake King Charlemagne,) "Would for one hour I had the power of my young days again, As when I plucked the Saxon from out his mountain den-- O soon should cease the vaunting of this proud Saracen!
XV. "Though now mine arm be weakened, though now my hairs be grey, The hard-won praise of other days cannot be swept away-- If shame there be, my liegemen, that shame on you must lie-- Go forth, go forth, good Roland; to-night this Moor must die."--
XVI. Then out and spake rough Roland--"Ofttimes I've thinned the ranks Of the hot Moor, and when all was o'er have won me little thanks; Some carpet knight will take delight to do this doughty feat, Whom damsels gay shall well repay with their smiles and whispers sweet!"--
XVII. Then out and spake Sir Baldwin--the youngest peer was he, The youngest and the comeliest--"Let none go forth but me; Sir Roland is mine uncle, and he may in safety jeer, But I will show the youngest may be Sir Roland's peer."--
XVIII. "Nay, go not thou," quoth Charlemagne, "thou art my gallant youth, And braver none I look upon; but thy cheek it is too smooth; And the curls upon thy forehead they are too glossy bright;-- Some elder peer must couch his spear against this crafty knight."--
XIX. But away, away goes Baldwin, no words can stop him now, Behind him lies the greenwood, he hath gained the mountain's brow, He reineth first his charger, within the churchyard green, Where, striding slow the elms below, the haughty Moor is seen.
XX. Then out and spake Calaynos--"Fair youth, I greet thee well; Thou art a comely stripling, and if thou with me wilt dwell, All for the grace of thy sweet face, thou shalt not lack thy fee, Within my lady's chamber a pretty page thou'lt be."--
XXI. An angry man was Baldwin, when thus he heard him speak, "Proud knight," quoth he, "I come with thee a bloody spear to break."-- O, sternly smiled Calaynos, when thus he heard him say,-- O loudly as he mounted his mailèd barb did neigh.
XXII. One shout, one thrust, and in the dust young Baldwin lies full low-- No youthful knight could bear the might of that fierce warrior's blow; Calaynos draws his falchion, and waves it to and fro, "Thy name now say, and for mercy pray, or to hell thy soul must go."--