low cleaves the Saxon to the
shoulders, then dies.

"The news is carried to the Emperor, who laments his ill fate. Rest
he has never had; the paynim folk have killed him the flower of his
friends, Roland at Roncevaux and now Baldwin. 'Ha, God! send me death,
without making long delay!' He draws his sword, and is about to kill
himself when Naymes of Bavaria restrains him and bids him avenge
his nephew's death. The old man, however, exposes his life with such
recklessness, the struggle is so unequal, that Naymes himself has to
persuade him to leave the battle and enter the city until the Herupe
nobles come to his aid. 'Dead is Count Roland and Count Oliver, and all
the twelve peers, who used to help in daunting that pride which makes us
bend so; no longer at your right hand is Baldwin the warrior; the paynim
have killed him and Berard the light; God has their souls.... If you are
killed ... in your death alone a hundred thousand will die.'

"They lead him away, unwilling, from the field. Baldwin's corpse is
carried by him on his shield. Sebile comes to meet the Emperor and asks
of her husband. Charles bids her look at him. She faints to the ground.
There is true pathos (though somewhat wire-drawn) in her lament, when
she comes to herself:

"'Sir King Baldwin, for God's sake, speak! I am your love, mistake me
not. If I have offended you in aught, it shall be made amends for wholly
to your pleasure; but speak to me. For you was my body baptized and
lifted; my heart leans on you, and all my affections, and if you fail
me, it will be ill done. Too soon it seems to me, if already you repent.
Baldwin, is it a trick? Are you deceiving me? Speak to me, friend, if
you can.... I see your garments dyed and bloody, but I do not believe
that you are killed; there is no man so bold or so outrageous who ever
could kill you; he durst not do so. But I think by such a will you wish
to try me, how I should behave if you were departed. Speak to me, for
God's sake who was born of virgin, and for that lady who kept chastity,
and for the holy cross whereon Jesus suffered! Try me no more, friend,
it is enough; I shall die now if you tarry longer,' 'Naymes,' says the
king, 'take this lady away; if I see her grief any more, I shall go
mad.'

"That night he ate no bread nor drank wine, but had the city watched,
and rode the rounds himself, with helmet closed, his great buckler
hanging to his neck, his sword in his fist. All the night it rained