LXIX.
The duke of Glocester Matalista bold
Assailed this while, and hurtled from his sell;
Fieramont Follicon o’erturned and rolled,
In the right shoulder smit, on earth as well.
The advancing English either paynim hold,
And bear their prisoners off to dungeon-cell.
This while, Sir Baricond is, in the strife,
By Clarence’s bold duke deprived of life.
LXX.
Hence ’tis among the Moors amazement all,
While hence the Christians take such heart and pride,
The bands do nought but quit their ground and fall,
And break their order on the Paynim side,
What time the Christian troops come on, and gall
Their flying ranks, which nowhere will abide:
And had not one arrived to aid their host,
The Paynim camp had on that side been lost.
LXXI.
But Ferrau, who till this time ever nigh
Marsilius, scarce had quitted him that day,
When half destroyed he marked his chivalry,
And saw that baffled banner born away,
Pricked his good courser forth, in time to spy,
(Where ’mid those squadrons hottest waxed the fray)
With his head severed by a griesly wound,
Olympio de la Serra fall to ground:
