“Advance and take as fairest of the fair,
For I these two years past have won it for thee,
The prize of beauty.” Loudly spake the Prince, 555
“Forbear; there is a worthier,” and the knight,
With some surprise and thrice as much disdain,
Turn’d, and beheld the four, and all his face
Glow’d like the heart of a great fire at Yule,
So burnt he was with passion, crying out, 560
“Do battle for it then,” no more; and thrice
They clash’d together, and thrice they brake their spears.