To hammer friendly helms with zeal, Sir,
Lo, sounding clear for all to hear,
The Tourney rang with lyres of steel, Sir!
These demigods of matchless story
For Love laid on, laid on for Glory!
Their horses flew like thunderbolts,
Or cut a brace of demi-voltes.
Observe this phrase. The mettled colts
Would cut a brace of demi-voltes.
When Arthur and his Table Round