Of this my tale, a gallant strain;
And if ye will hear more of it,
I'll soon begin again.



FYTTE THE SECOND.

1.
Now hold your speech for charity,
Both gallant knight and lady free,
And hearken to my song
Of battle and of chivalry,
Of ladies' love and minstrelsy,
All ambling thus along.

2.
Men speak much of old tales, I know;
Of Hornchild, Ipotis, also
Of Bevis and Sir Guy;
Of Sire Libeaux, and Pleindamour;
But Sire Thopas, he is the flower
Of real chivalry.

3.
Now was his gallant steed bestrode,
And forth upon his way he rode,
As spark flies from a brand;
Upon his crest he bare a tower,
And therein stuck a lily flower: