But hard midway upon the green surcoat,
Sir Palamon's stout lance so truly smote,
That, 'neath the shock, the bold Sir Thomas reeled
And, losing stirrups, saddle, lance and shield,
Down, down upon the ling outstretched he fell
And, losing all, lost breath and speech as well.
Thus, silent all, the bold Sir Thomas lay,
Though much, and many things, he yearned to say,
Which things his squires and pages might surmise
From the expression of his fish-like eyes
E'en as they bore him from that doleful place;
While, near and far, from all the populace,
Rose shout on shout that echoed loud and long:
“Sir Palamon! Sir Palamon of Tong!”
So came these ten good knights, but, one by one,
They fell before this bold Sir Palamon,
Whose lance unerring smote now helm, now shield,
That many an one lay rolling on the field.
But each and all themselves did vanquished yield;
And loud and louder did the plaudits grow,
That one knight should so many overthrow.
Even Sir Gui, within his silken tent
Scowled black in ever-growing wonderment.
But the Knight of Tong, his gaudy shield a little battered, his fine surcoat frayed and torn, leaped from his wearied steed and forthwith mounted one held by his tall esquire, a mighty charger that tossed proud head and champed his bit, pawing impatient hoof.
“Aha!” quoth the esquire, pointing to ten fair steeds held by ten fair pages. “Oho, good brother, most puissant Knight of Tong, here is good and rich booty—let us begone!”
“Nay,” answered the Knight, tossing aside his blunt tilting-spear, “here is an end to sportful dalliance—reach me my lance!”
“Ha, is't now the Red Gui's turn, brother? The Saints aid thee, in especial two, that, being women, are yet no saints yet awhile—see how they watch thee, sweet, gentle dames! Their prayers go with thee, methinks, brother, and mine also, for the Red Gui is forsooth a valiant rogue!”
And now, mounted on the great black war-horse, the Knight of Tong rode up the lists:
His scarlet plume 'bove shining helm a-dance,
His bannerole a-flutter from long lance,
Till he was come where, plain for all to spy,
Was hung the shield and blazon of Sir Gui,
With bends and bars in all their painted glory,
Surcharged with hand ensanguined—gules or gory.
Full upon this bloody hand smote the sharp point of Sir Palamon's lance; whereupon the watching crowd surged and swayed and hummed expectant, since here was to be no play with blunted weapons but a deadly encounter.
Up started Sir Gui and strode forth of his tent, grim-smiling and confident. Quoth he:
“Ha, my Lord of Tong, thou'rt grown presumptuous and over-venturesome, methinks. But since life thou dost hold so cheap prepare ye for death forthright!”