He who in happy hour was born with a great voice did call:

"For the love of the Creator, smite them, my gallants ah.
I am Roy Diaz of Bivar, the Cid, the Campeador."

At the rank where was Per Vermudoz the mighty strokes they bore.
They are three hundred lances that each a pennon bear.
At one blow every man of them his Moor has slaughtered there,
And when they wheeled to charge anew as many more were slain.

XXXV.
You might see great clumps of lances lowered and raised again,
And many a shield of leather pierced and shattered by the stroke,
And many a coat of mail run through, its meshes all to-broke,
And many a white pennon come forth all red with blood,
And running without master full many a charger good.

Cried the Moors "Mahound!" The Christians shouted on Saint James
of grace.
On the field Moors thirteen hundred were slain in little space.

XXXVII.
On his gilded selle how strongly fought the Cid, the splendid
knight.
And Minaya Alvar Fanez who Zorita held of right,
And brave Martin Antolinez that in Burgos did abide,
And likewise Muno Gustioz, the Cid's esquire tried!
So also Martin Gustioz who ruled Montemayor,
And by Alvar Salvadorez Alvar Alvarez made war
And Galind Garciaz the good knight that came from Aragon,