There might you see Moors arming, that swift their ranks did
close.
Above the Moorish battle two flags-in-chief arose,
But of their mingling pennons the number who shall name?
Now all the squadrons of the Moors marching right onward came,
That the Cid and all his henchmen they might capture out of hand.

"My gallant men here in this place see that ye firmly stand,
Let no man leave the war-ranks till mine order I declare."

Per Vermudoz, he found it too hard a thing to bear,
He spurred forth with the banner that in his hand he bore:

"May the Creator aid thee, thou true Cid Campeador,
Through the line of battle yonder thy standard I will take;
I shall see how you bring succor, who must for honor's sake."
Said the Campeador: "Of charity, go not to the attack."
For answer said Per Vermudoz: "Is naught shall hold me back."
Spurring the steed he hurled him through the strong line of the
foes.
The serried Moors received him and smote him mighty blows,
To take from him the banner; yet they could not pierce his mail.
Said the Campeador: "Of charity go help him to prevail."

XXXV.
Before their breasts the war-shields there have they buckled
strong,
The lances with the pennons they laid them low along,
And they have bowed their faces over the saddlebow,
And thereaway to strike them with brave hearts did they go.