 | The English Charlemagne Romances |  |
170
Þer cam a noþer stout sarazin,Þat was armed wel a fin,
Þat hiȝte myafle of bagounde,
& wiþ a litel stounde
He made his stede swiþe to goon,
& smot oliuer a noon
Þorou out al his armure briȝt,
He woundede sore þat gode kniȝt.
| The English Charlemagne Romances | |