Churls, with no feeling but for self,
Yield to his better hands your pelf!
Such trespass Fear disdains to hide;
And hoodwink’d Justice peeps aside.
The liberal air his freeborn soul
Lifts high, in scorn of base controul.
In fellowship and fealty bound,
Firm as the knights of Table Round,
Him and his hundred, tall and fleet,
Not twice two hundred care to meet.