Hoarse was that voice, erst like a bell,
That long-tried strength foredone.
Lo! conscience pricks the brave Sir Hicks,[50]
A Knight of courtesie;
On that black bench churl hearts might blench,
And fail of their cad glee.
For Randolpho needs must I wail
As one in doleful dumps,
Aping the rough who kicks his foe,
And on his body jumps.