"And glory or shame for our Tamar side."
'Twere sooth to sing how Sir Gauvain smiled,
When he grasped the waters so soft and mild;
How Sir Lancelot dashed the glistening spray
O'er the rugged beard of the rough Sir Kay.
Sir Bevis he touched and he found no fear:
'Twas a bénitée stoup to Sir Belvidere,
Now the fountain flashed o'er King Arthur's Queen
Say, Cornish dames, for ye guess the scene.
"Now rede me my riddle, Sir Mordred, I pray,