The Song of Roland, CLXXXVIII

Out of his swoon awakens Marsilies, And has him borne his vaulted roof beneath; Many colours were painted there to see, And Bramimunde laments for him, the queen, Tearing her hair; caitiff herself she clepes; Also these words cries very loud and clear: "Ah! Sarraguce, henceforth forlorn thou'lt be Of the fair king that had thee in his keep! All those our gods have wrought great felony, Who in battle this morning failed at need. That admiral will shew his cowardice, Unless he fight against that race hardy, Who are so fierce, for life they take no heed. That Emperour, with his blossoming beard, Hath vassalage, and very high folly; Battle to fight, he will not ever flee. Great grief it is, no man may slay him clean."